#I don’t quite like how I draw him tbh he looks too round and soft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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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

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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.”

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oodlyenough · 3 years ago

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life is strange true colours review

the non spoilery part: i LOVED this game, my personal fave game this year and the first franchise entry since the original that has really resonated with or moved me.

it's a life is strange game through and through, so if you don't like slice of life episodes or bonding with NPCs, it's not gonna be for you. but if you like the franchise, or even if you liked the first game but haven't been interested in/liked the other two instalments, i recommend giving this one a chance. i think it got closer to figuring out the formula while still doing something new and interesting.

more detailed spoilers and opinions:

alex

holy shit i love alex? bisexual chad... my darling... i'm gonna be real, a lot of the trailers and promo for this game made me worried she'd be kind of a dull wallflower Soft Girl character, but she's not! she's so funny, and even parts of her characterization i initially thought were maybe a bit of a stretch ended up making sense as i learned more about her. she stole the show. i straight up forgot how much loving the protag helps enjoyment of these kinds of games lmao ... finally a reason to click on everything in the room: to hear what alex will say about it.

i thought her backstory exploration in ep 5 especially was wonderful and emotive and great. broke my heart and explained so much about her :( baby girl

plot/choices

i loved the mystery. i don't think it was quite as Mysterious as the mystery in lis1, but that was okay, i was still invested in solving it. i also got invested enough in the NPCs around the town to make all the exploration bits really fun. i loved eavesdropping on the sagas of the random NPCs like bald man and ice cream couple... just fun little touches and narratives to follow that i enjoyed.

i really appreciated this script not being afraid to shy away from some messier emotions, even if in some cases i wish we spent more time on them. for example: alex feeling a bit jealous of the other people in town that got to know gabe better than her/spend more time with him than she did. or charlotte hating ethan!!! my jaw dropped, i thought that was so good, what a messy but realistic response.

I'm not entirely sure what all the ramifications of different choices are at this point, fresh off my first play. i ended up getting only part of the council to stand with me (eleanor & duckie) while losing pike and charlotte.

i do wish we saw a bit more fallout or exploration of what taking away emotion DOES. i took charlotte's anger, and obviously it meant she didn't stand up for me in the council meeting, but where does she go from there? does she like... ever return to feeling emotions lmao... I also think we probably should've had the opportunity to do that another time, instead of just 2 isolated events -- I think Diane would've been a good candidate.

the romance

i romanced steph, ofc, but i was surprised during the game how drawn i was to ryan too -- i really liked that Drama of him being the one who cut Gabe free, as well as later the drama of him being Jed's son. UNTIL HE DIDN'T BELIEVE ME... that made me mad lmfao, i have to learn what to do to make him believe me before i play a Ryan route bc i'll kill him lmfao.

the steph/alex romance was sweet... it didn't really, like, Consume Me as a ship, but by the end of the game I was still "aww"ing at their moments in the flashforward. steph was more rounded and flawed than i thought she might be, which i really appreciated! i was worried they'd just make her perfect idealized gf, but she has a bit of a temper and is kind of tempestuous and stuff... liked it. loved her standing up for alex so fiercely and immediately at the council meeting <3 and my main reservation about her in ep 4 was that i wanted alex to stay in haven, so when she offered to stay i was thrilled LOL

one semi-complaint i had was that something i loved so much about lis1 was how max and chloe's relationship was central to the entire game and story, it wasn't some extra thing on the side, it WAS the game... whereas here, the romance routes, especially steph's, felt like sidequests. I wish they'd found a way to incorporate those relationships a bit more into the main goings-on. I also wanted to spend more time with either romance option to feel like I knew them better -- splitting the time between Steph and Ryan means that I came away feeling like I didn't get quite as much of either of them as I would've liked, vs spending almost the entire game with Chloe lol.

however, this ended up not really bothering me too much because I DID really like the core mystery and themes, the exploration of grief and Emotion, etc.

other characters

considering everyone knew going into the game that gabe was going to die, i was impressed with how they did it, and how they managed to get me attached to gabe in a mere single episode. it's a tall order to introduce a character designed to die, who your audience KNOWS is going to die, and still make them work.

i thought this supporting cast was ... maybe the strongest in the franchise? or at least, they created scenarios where i felt invested in multiple people in the town, and was genuinely trying to build decent relationships with most of them. duckie cracked me tf up, i liked eleanor and riley, even diane and jeb were good for their roles. (fuck pike. i signed ur stupid thing and left your emotions alone and you still won't do shit? ACAB!!!) the choice to stay in haven or leave was a little harder than i expected honestly, considering how quickly i let arcadia bay burn to the ground lmfao.

gameplay/etc

also i know the whole internet has been dunking on "empathy" as a super power since the game was announced, and i get that it sounds corny and looks corny in the trailers, but i thought how they did it was really cool. i wish they'd branded it "Mindreading" more than empathy tbh because a lot of the cooler elements of it are more along those lines... using her power to manipulate people, potentially taking people's emotions away and what that does to them... very interesting imo!

i really liked the memory feature!!! cool way to give us character exposition and inform the story while encouraging exploration. finally a collectible that like, expands the story, instead of chloe drawing butts on the wall and sean taking 10 years to draw something.

it's definitely the most evolved-feeling LIS game, which it should be, given it's the newest. graphics looked really nice, loved getting to see the characters actually emote, even if there are still some scenes that were a lil comically blank-faced -- usually NPCs. i actually noticed this with Jed the most, which in retrospect maybe was somewhat intentional?

i had a number of visual glitches, nothing major but a little silly, like T-posing Alex, npcs t-posing in the windows, etc. i'm sure they'll get patched out soon.

anyway... i rly liked this game, i'm excited for the steph dlc and finally feel like i have reason to be optimistic about future LIS instalments. hooray!

#life is strange #true colors #listc spoilers #lis spoilers #secrets of haven

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millllenniawrites · 4 years ago

Text

wild eyes (Duke Leto Atreides x Reader)

part one of the wild eyes duology

I thought I should try my hand at writing Leto...... and yes I was supposed to be in class when I wrote this but in battle of Oscar Isaac characters vs calculus, that man and his art win every time

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: choking vibes but no actual choking? sort of? praise sort of?? I cut the smut out of this last minute because I wanted this to be gender neutral and tbh I hated it so I’m gonna work on it and post a p2 probably. slight spoilers (this happens directly after a canon scene in the book (and uses book dialogue) but it’s near the very beginning. all spoilers are like general introduction-to-the-world-of-dune pieces. nothing major) The lovely Lady Jessica makes a brief appearance. this is mostly just me trying to explore the voice so we’ll see how long I even keep this up lmao __

Taking a deep, calming breath, you rounded the corner into the large stone Hall.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the high ceiling. It was impossible to not feel infinitely small in the grandeur of the space. The faint sounds of feet shuffling and heavy packages being laid on the stone floors filtered in through the doorway you’d used and were magnified, bouncing off the high, dark walls until they were little more than whisperings. The sound was not unlike the sand, a shifting and blowing about outside the house that never seemed to end.

Speaking in soft whispers, the Lady Jessica and the Duke stood in the centre of the space, surrounded by boxes and covered art, from what you could tell. You hesitated to interrupt them, especially with the tension in the Lady’s shoulders and the way she seemed to draw her arms around herself, but your orders were clear.

Your voice echoed in the large space as you called, “My Lord?”

His head snapped up, shoulders turning toward you. The condition of his working uniform and his hair only added to picture that the lines in his face painted: a man under tremendous stress. Something in you ached to reach out, to soothe whatever had left him this way, but you would resist. For the sake of the Lady Jessica, if nothing else.

He cared for her. He had to, for a man of his caliber to have never married. Nothing else would keep a man so loyal to the mother of his son. There were whispers, as there always were, about why he had not married her. People wondered if she had another lover. If he hadn’t married her as to allow her that freedom.

If he himself wished to indulge in those freedoms.

While you would never betray the Duke, it was hard not to smile while overhearing the speculation.

It was always hard, being the keeper of the secrets. But no one would blame you for keeping them. Not if they knew the pleasures of indulging in the Duke’s freedom, too.

You took a few steps into the wide room so he could hear you better, bowing your head as you spoke. “Your guardcar has arrived, my Lord.”

The Duke turned to the Lady Jessica. Her face was perfectly neutral, no hint of their prior conversation to be found. “Don’t expect me until very late.” He strode out, only a flick of his wrist signalling you to follow him.

He was speaking to a grey-haired woman when you finally made it back into the hallway. Servants shuffled more boxes in through the great doors. “The Lady Jessica’s in the Great Hall. Join her there immediately.” The woman shuffled past you into the room and the Duke was off again, heading down the left-most passageway.

Another flick of his wrist and you were following him closely, down a set of halls in the large, cold house that you were certain didn’t lead to his officers or the car what was waiting for him.

The Duke turned down a dead end, stopping so quickly you nearly ran into his back. When he turned, his eyes were lighter. “Did you truly send for a guardcar?”

You met his booming voice with a whisper and a single nod. “I believe one of the servants overheard you and the Lady Jessica, my Lord.” He had mentioned quite loudly that he would be busy with the officers into the late evening, and word traveled fast. Was this another excuse for him to sneak off with a woman from the new city you had all settled in? Was he truly so paranoid that he would lose sleep securing the already-fortified house?

You had moved quickly, calling a car for him and taking names of those instigating the rumours. As was your role.

“I have servants listening in on my private conversations?” There was an element of fake surprise to his tone, as if he had planned this. Perhaps he had. He was more than intelligent and ruthless enough to do so.

“Yes, my Lord.” You answered simply, daring to hold his gaze.

“I appreciate your loyalty.” He lifted his hand up, his trailing calloused fingers along your jaw making you shudder. His eyes seemed to darken as he said, “I’ll see to it that you’re rewarded. Personally.” The low growl of his words threatened to take you apart, his light touch maddening.

“Thank you, my Lord.” You breathed as if it were one word.

“Ask the Lady Jessica for the location of my new office space. Clarify that it be on the orders of the Duke, and I’m sure you’ll find no argument.”

“Yes my-” He gave you a pointed look. One you’d seen too many times to question what it meant. You bowed your head, obscuring your mouth from view as you whispered, “Leto.”

“Your Leto, hm?” His gentle teasing sent a shot of warmth through you, magnified by his own heat as he took a slight step closer.

“I’m sorry-”

“I like it.” With a finger under your chin, he guided you to look at him.

There was a savageness in his eyes that stole your breath, present only since agreeing to make the journey to Arrakis. You froze, letting his fingertips trace your cheekbone. He rested his thumb on your bottom lip and you opened automatically for him, your gasps hot against his hand.

His fingers traced the column of your throat, feeling the unevenness of your breath. “Good.” You could feel the rumble of his voice in your own chest, even as he let his hand drop and stepped back, drawing himself up to his full height. Despite his frazzled state, every inch of him exuded the leadership you had grown to find comfort under.

The power of the House Atreides.

The hall was still empty, but the Duke schooled his features into the mask you’d grown to respect. Or was it fear? A safe amount of both, for certain. “I will see you tonight.” He sounded professional enough, despite the feral grin that graced his lips. Turning his back to you, he strode past you, glancing back only once as he reached the stairwell at the end of the hall that would bring him to his awaiting men.

He winked and you trembled again, but managed a soft smile. And he was gone.

tag list: @writefightandflightclub @a-killvr-queen @imananxiousdriver

#duke leto #duke leto atreides #oscar isaac #duke leto atreides x reader #dune #dune 2020 #my fics #leto atreides #duke leto x reader #duke leto x you #duke leto atreides x you #macks fics

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hwaflms · 3 years ago

Note

Fav Emoji: 🗡

Hi!!! I was wondering if I can get a ship for txt, nct, and ateez pls? I’ll really try not to make this long, but it’s hard sometimes lol.

Anyways, I’m an 18 year old 03’ liner and I’m 5’6. As for looks, I’m african american so i have dark skin, brown eyes and cinnamon colored hair. I cut my hair really short above my ears. I look rather young for my age (unfortunately). I’m rather slim and i have long legs and arms so people say I look even taller than what i am. I have large round eyes a big forehead, a button nose, and thick(ish) lips with round cheeks(ok now i understand why ppl think i’m vv young 🙄) But nowadays i’m more confident in myself and it’s no longer an insecurity of mine. I’d like to say i’m very stylish yet i can’t pick an aesthetic for the life of me.

To sum up my fav aesthetic/style, i would have to say something that’s dark but sophisticated. Like dark academia, but add a bit more of an alt/goth style to it. I like listening to visual kei and rock music, but to be honest, I love all music, even country some times.

I’m from the south of usa, so that has influenced how i am A LOT. I usually don’t have an accent, but whenever i feel a really strong emotion, I get a really strong southern accent and it’s kind of funny. I also tend to go outside without any shoes or socks. I like playing with my pets outside the most, I have two dogs (one is a rottweiler and one is a bull dog), my cat (just a black cat) and my bird. I love love love animals. I love everything to do with nature as well, i feel a deep connection with nature, and once, i even cried while watching bees pollinate flowers help lol.

My psychic said my aura was multiple shades of green, which i think it fits, seeing that green auras represented healers and earth lovers. My dad tends to call me a hippie lol. Astrology wise, I’m a leo sun, leo moon, and scorpio rising. My personality type is INFP-T. My friends say i’m quite funny, and they like to point out, “she’s really really smart, but like everyone, she has her dumb moments, but her dumb moments are the dumbest of the dumbest.”

I’m very sensitive, and not in the “i’m always crying way”. Yet, when i do cry, i tend to cry over the smallest of things, like the bee one. I cry over animals being cute, and I cry when i’m rlly rlly excited. Yet if i’m rlly sad, i can’t cry for some reason, and i’m just 😐. But, I try my hardest to comfort others and help others because there seriously is no other happiness in the world that makes me more happy than making others happy.

I like to talk a lot, as well (as you can see), and i’ll talk about every topic. I tend to talk most about child birth and genetics weirdly enough, it’s so interesting to me. But i also love to talk about astrology, space, and conspiracy theories. I’m highly spiritual. I’m also highly creative. I love drawing, singing, dancing, acting, all of that. Drawing has always been my strongest suit before i somehow got bored of it, but i still draw every once and a while.

I also like playing sports, as i’m naturally athletic. I did ballet, tap dance, gymnastics, track and field, cheerleading, soccer, and softball. (i think cheer is a sport and i’ll argue with anyone on that). I’ve lived in america, germany, and south korea, and i want to travel to so many more places as i grow older.

As for relationship stuff, I’ve never been in a relationship. I’m scared of boys to be honest. I was bullied in school a lot for being “ugly” and it was always by boys so i’ve never really had the best experience with them. I’m still trying to gain my confidence so that i could try dating.

My ideal type is someone smart (though i don’t hate himbos lmao), but i like someone smart and mature. I like someone who works hard, but not someone who’s too serious. With people, i like to have those love/hate relationships lol like we make fun of each other but we also have our soft moments. As for looks, i don’t rlly have an ideal type, yet there’s a couple things that i would go for. I like someone who’s taller than me, has bigger hands than me (mine are 18cm 😥), and has nice legs (i tend to like thicker legs, but i don’t discriminate). I do think smaller guys around my height are so cute too tho, like UGH I CANT CHOOSE.

My ideal date would probably be anything other than going to a restaurant. Maybe later on in the relationship that would be fine, but to be honest, i’m very awkward and shy at first, so it would just be weird. I find that doing something fun together really let’s you find out more about a person rather than just talking. So maybe an amusement park, or even doing an escape room together.

As for love languages, i’m not a very touchy person. Sometimes, i’m STARVING for a hug, but most of the time i don’t like to be touched. I think my love language is acts of service, and idk what’s it’s called, but just trying to find out abt someone. Someone would really know i like them when i ask for their whole zodiac chart, personality type, weekday of birth, everything.

Tbh, i’m very much like a tsundere. I don’t like showing affection very much, and i’d rather insult the ppl that i like than compliment them. Though, this is probably the reason ppl think i don’t like them when i first meet them. Sometimes i might get rlly mushy and cute and stuff, but most of the time, i’m just not used to showing affection, so i feel kinda uncomfy when i do.

Ok, that’s all, i really hope it wasn’t too much for you to read, i tend to get carried away ❤️ have a nice day ily

୨୧ 𓂃 : 🐇 :┊ i ship you with . . .

💌 — huening kai ♡ txt.

𖥻 the last thing a relationship with hyuka would be is boring. he gives off very "best friend who also happens to be your boyfriend" vibes, so there would be a lot off playing around and goofing off. he can be affectionate but also likes his space, like you, so you would be able to find a middle ground. he would like is your relationship was light and fun, teasing each other and making fun of each other. if you ever felt insecure, he would make you feel better in a less "let's talk about it" way and a more "ugh you're so silly, why would you think that when you're perfect??" way.

💌 — johnny ♡ nct.

𖥻 johnny is a chill and laid-back person, so conversation with him would come easy. there wouldn't be an awkward stage with him because johnny is a pretty smooth talker and he would make it easier for you to talk to him. johnny would NEVER make you feel insecure, if anything, he'd be the type of boyfriend who would be hyping you up all the time, even when you're doing absolutely nothing. johnny loves music too so, while he might make fun of you a lil for listening to country, he would love vibing to music with you. we all know johnny is mf hilarious, so he could definitely joke around with you and insult you playfully often ! plus johnny is a sexc tall boy and he has legs for days D:

💌 — hongjoong ♡ atz.

𖥻 hongjoong has the perfect balance of being mature and hardworking while also being playful. he knows how to take a joke and return the favour by teasing you, so i think in that aspect, you will have an easy-going relationship. he also will definitely be so supportive of you, and will be there for you whenever you need it. the kind of dates he would prefer would be more indoor ones, especially just in his studio !! he would show the amount of affection you're comfortable with, never pushing your boundaries or pressuring you.

♡ 𓄹 ࣪ ˖ i hope you like this !! and also, i just wanted to let you know that you are so so beautiful, okay, ilysm <3 boys suck, pls ignore them >:( thank you for sending this in, stay safe ^_^

#(-_- ) zZ ships ★!

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ateezingbabies · 4 years ago

Text

Revenge [Choi San x f!Reader]

tw - angst, smut (oral (f and m receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex, spanking, choking (f recieving), degradation, revenge sex), cheating, uncharacteristic san tbh, overuse of the term baby, mentions of blood (no actual blood), a little plot

Words 3.1k

I do NOT condone any of the actions in this fanfiction and nor do I think that these would be actions made from Ateez' San.

You were sure that revenge has never tasted so sweet.

With San eagerly lapping at your release underneath you and you vigorously sucking on his cock, the both of you knew that there was going to be regret and heartbreak in the morning. The deep plum marks on each other’s bodies’ only added fuel to the fire. The red hot jealousy spikes through San when he hears a door open, recollecting the sight that he had seen last week.

San wasn’t quite sure when it began, when his girlfriend of three years started to have eyes for someone else. That someone else being your boyfriend of five years. Somehow a drunken mistake turned into a repeating one when sober and the hidden moans turned into longing glances and lingering touches and hushed whispers of “Soon” and “I love you.”

San was returning from practice earlier than usual and was met by a sight that he had never expected to see, his blood turning ice cold when he watches your boyfriend kissing his girlfriend’s neck over the marks that he left the previous night. Face paling and a sudden wave nausea runs over him when he turns around and starts running to the direction of your apartment. Repeatedly ringing your doorbell as heaves and chokes over his cries, you open the door and immediately bring him into a hug. Salty tears drop onto your neck and your heart drops when he tells you the events that he saw in front of his front door.

At first you didn’t want to believe it, you wanted to laugh in his face and tell him there was no way that you boyfriend was cheating on you. Once the first wave of denial finishes washing over you and San repeating the story like a mantra, rage fills you. Wanting to tear every photo and break every gift he has given you. The two of you sit there crying and consoling the other a plan works itself out. One that left pleasurable flames licking at the base of your spine.

After a double date to a cute café, you left the table under the guise that you needed to use the restroom whilst San went to go get the food from the counter. The two of you shared a knowing glance as San paid for the food, watching his girlfriend kiss your boyfriend’s cheek as you watched your boyfriend mouth, “I love you,” to San’s girlfriend. Eyes steeling as you make your way into the cramped bathroom, you bite your lip as you now have to pretend that everything is fine.

Flash forward after a few days of glancing at lewd text messages being sent, San and you settled on a date to ‘surprise’ your lovers. Taking a sick day from your work and San had already had the day off to take his soon to be ex-girlfriend on a surprise date, the two of you shared awkward kisses at first before San took the liberty to get a bottle liquor to share a few shots.

With the liquid courage pulsating in your veins the awkward kisses soon turned hot and steamy as the smacking of lips caused pleasured sighs to leave your mouth. San pulled his mouth away from your lips as all thoughts of guilt and regret flew out the window when you rolled your hips on his growing erection. Moaning out your name when you repeat the action you pull him back to your mouth to meet for a searing kiss. His hands kneading your ass forcing your back to arch.

In a sudden rush of heat, you pull off your shirt and fling it somewhere in the living room, San quickly uses this opportunity to suck temporary reminders of these events on to the top of your breasts. Annoyed with the lacy bra you were adorning, he unhooks it with clumsy fingers and pulls it off to set it next to him on the sofa. Bending down to make his face level with your breasts he sucks on a nipple, tugging on it with his teeth while his hand tweaks and kneads the other. Another whine rips from your lips at the harsh actions left on your sensitive breasts. San looks up to your pleasured face with a cocky grin. “Does that feel good, baby?”

Nodding your head as another whine bubbles out of you, San pulls away from your heaving chest, “Use your words,” a teasing lilt is found in his tone as he smiles at your blissed out state.

Fingers threading through his hair, as you moan out, “Yes, San. It feels so good.”

Content with your response, he kisses you again leading you to his bed. After spreading you out, San slips out of his shirt so quick you almost worried that it burned him. Settling in between your legs and burying his head back into your neck, he grabs one of your legs and hikes it to his waist. Lost in the headiness of lust you immediately start grinding your clothed core on his. Throwing your head back because it wasn’t enough. Noticing your frustration, San struggles removing your jeans and underwear in one go and discards them next to the bed before removing his own.

Your eyes raked down San’s body appreciating his chiseled torso, and you almost laughed that his girlfriend cheated on someone who looks like he was chiseled by Michelangelo. Not realizing you said your thoughts out loud San looms over you with mirth swirling in his gaze, “Michelangelo, huh?” He leans down to whisper in your ear as a blush rises to your cheeks, “I’m glad you think I look that good, dollface.” Grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, San kissed, licked, and sucked along the expanse of your body before stopping at your wet slit. “Oh baby,” he tuts, “When was the last time you were fucked?” Furrowing your brows at the question you ponder when was the last time you were pleasured beyond your own hand. However, to San, you spent too long thinking about the question and to get you out of your head he slapped the top part of your thigh. Yelping at the sensation, it sent another round of heat to the base of your spine.

“I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it, baby,” San growls out barely tracing your clit that you wondered if he actually touched it. “Three.. Two-”

“I-I don’t know!” You yelp before San could enact on a punishment, “Maybe six months ago? He always said that he wasn’t in the mood.” San shakes his head at your answer, feeling sympathy run through his head.

Placing more pressure on your clit, he slowly rubs small circles on the little bud. You bite your lip at the sensation trying your hardest not to buck your hips. He looks up at your face, notices the inhibition in your eyes, “Let go for me, sweetheart, I want you to feel good. Don’t be scared of the pleasure.” Glancing at San and see his eagerness in his face almost makes you wonder if he had hidden feelings for you at a period in time. Taking a deep breath and resting your head on his pillow you close your eyes and focus on San’s fingers working his way to your opening and barely breaching inside to gather some of your wetness before spreading it onto your clit where his slow moments started to become faster. Even though he was not your boyfriend you will admit that he knows what he is doing. Slowly gyrating your hips on his fingers, San smiles as you lose yourself to the pleasure he is providing you. Deciding that he was teasing you enough, he takes one of his fingers and slips it into you. Biting his lip by how tight and wet you are, he pumps his finger in and out of you as you arch your back. Keeping an eye on your writhing form San slips in another finger and you hiss at the forgotten stretch. Scissoring his fingers in deeper, your eyes roll back into your skull as he presses against the spot that blinds you with pleasure. Mewling and scrunching your eyes shut at the sensation you barely hear San chuckle wanting to get the same reaction out of you again. “You like that, baby?” San teases as he angles his hand to make sure that he hits that spot every time he flutters his fingers.

Feeling the white hot pleasure wash over you become oblivious to the world only to be jolted back into the present as San kitten licks your clit. Combing your hands through his hair you whine out as he pushes you closer to your orgasm. San moans against your clit as you tug on his roots and thrust your cunt into his face. Stuttering out his name as he increases the speed of his fingers inside of you and it is too much for you to handle and you can feel yourself releasing onto his fingers. You relax for a split second to catch your breath however it is taken away from you again as San does not stop his ministrations.

Broken whines and breathless moans leave your lips as San continues to roughly lick your clit, one sounds akin to a soft no as he removes his fingers from your sopping core. But before you can focus too much on the loss of the stretching sensation, San pulls you closer to his mouth alternating between licking your clit and thrusting the wet organ into your cunt. Your back arches once more as another orgasm forces itself out of you.

San pulls himself away from your heat and wipes his hand across his lips, “You taste so sweet,” he climbs on top of you with hands on either side of your head and a thigh in between your legs. “Want a taste, baby?” Before you can answer his lips are on yours and you cannot help but agree. Wrapping your hands his neck again as his tongue swipes against your lower lip and when you refuse to let his tongue in your mouth, he growls and bites you lower lip what seemed as hard enough to draw blood. Yelping at the pain, San forces his tongue into your mouth causing you to moan. San’s hands start to wander again, gripping your skin in his hands. Tears gathering in your eyes at how rough he was being but still tugging him closer in order to forget the thoughts of your previous lover.

When San feels a small drop of liquid smear against his cheek, he pulls away from the kiss and stares at you with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “Hey, what’s wrong Y/N?” San cups your cheek eyes soft as he brushes away the tear with his thumb, “Am I being too rough?”

Shaking your head at his question, “N-no, it’s perfect- er.. You’re doing perfect. I’m fine.” You start to ramble as a few more tears trail down your cheeks. Seeing your emotional turmoil San lays next you and pulls you into his arms. Resting his lips on the top of your head, he gently rubs his hand up and down your back to console you. “I just can’t believe that they did this to us. Did I do something wrong? Was I not enough?” You snuggle closer to San as your tears fall onto his chest.

The frown on San’s face deepens as he starts to feel guilty for coercing you into this. Brushing your hair away from your face, “Hey, we can stop. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.” Shaking your head once again, you pull him back on top of you.“No, no. L-let's finish this. Just be slow,” you snivel and stutter, voice trailing off, “please.” San’s eyes soften as he brings his fully erected cock to the outside of your slit.

Tensing for the inevitable stretch, your facial expression morphs into one of confusion as it never comes. San’s eyes are wide while he looks at you, “Do you want me to use protection?” A deep maroon blush forms on your cheeks as you realize the gravity of the question. Biting your lip, you tell him no, and that the two of you should get them back where it hurts.

Bracing yourself once again, San slowly sheaths himself into you. Hissing at the stretch, and when you fully expect him to be bottomed out, he keeps going. Once he finally settles into you, tears prick your eyes again because you feel so full. Unable to help yourself, you clench around him and shudder at the gravelly groan that he emits. “Baby,” San’s voice is tight as he tries to warn you of the consequences if you keep clenching around him.

Smirking and deciding to push your limits, you clench around him again. As San positions himself into a more comfortable pose, he puffs out his chest to make himself seem larger. “I thought you told me that you want to take it slow?” His hand trails up your chest, and lightly grasps your throat, “So why are you acting like a little whore?” Feeling a burst of pleasure and shame flicker up your spine up onto the surface of your cheeks; you debate if this is what you really want. When San sees the shimmer of playfulness in your eyes and before you can answer his question his hand tightens around your throat and thrusts into you hard enough to make the wooden bed frame slam against sthe wall with a solid boom.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head you had half the mind to make a witty response but then San thrusts into you again and your mind a white haze. A smirk seems to be permanently carved into his face as he angles his hips to make sure he really hits the right spot and you are truly rendered speechless. Seeing the blissed out expression on your face he feels his ego grow, “Does the baby like being treated like a slut?” Even though you can see his lips moving you cannot hear anything above the rushing in your ears. Letting out a drawn out whine, San’s smirk turns into a dimply smile that seems too innocent in comparison to the way that he is wrecking your body. He lets out a mocking giggle as he comments, “I’ve already fucked you dumb, and I barely even started.” Back arching at the degradation it feels like your head is in a whirlwind at the swirling of emotions inside of you. Part of you is loving San’s harsh treatment towards your body and the other part of you feels guilty that you are not being the bigger person.

Lost in your head, you let out mindless moans as you grip and scratch the skin on San’s back. However, San is not much different. Part of him is hating that he is cheating on his girlfriend that he loved, and still loves. But he just can’t stop. A little voice is in the back of his head wondering if this is how his girlfriend felt when she first had an affair on him with your boyfriend. That little voice in the back is soon crushed by the powerful jaws of lust when you clench on him so tightly he can barely move. Feeling a weak wet stream on his abdomen, his focus shifts to the small stream of liquid that drips down onto the bed sheets. His gaze shifts back up to you. Face flushed and hair strewn across your face he cannot help but think that you're beautiful.

Voice hoarse from the moaning and using the little air left in your lungs, “Did you cum yet?” San refocuses his attention to his aching cock. Letting out a small no, you push him onto to his back and shimmy down the bed to lower your mouth on his painful erection. Hands immediately on the back of your neck as San forces your head down so he can be buried in your throat. Whimpering at the sensation soon turns to be an immediate regret as you gag and immediately pull your head away to cough. But San stops you before you can, pushing you back down whilst moaning and bucking his hips. Your hands clench the bed sheets for a split second and you slap his thigh to let you up.

Releasing his hands away from your neck you pull off his cock to violently cough and gag. In an attempt to calm you down, San combs his hands through your hair. Once you’ve stopped coughing and spit falls from your heaving mouth. San glances up at the clock and knows within a few moments his girlfriend is going to come home soon, and he bites his lip as he comes up with an idea. Yelping as he manhandled you into a position where your face is level with his cock and he has perfect access to your swollen pussy, “Suck,” was San’s only demand. Grabbing the base of his dick, he moans you press little kisses to his tip. Raising his hand to slap your ass, “That wasn’t part of your instructions, brat.” Gasping at the stinging sensation left behind, you quickly wrap your lips around his tip, tongue swirling around it. A weak moan resonates as San starts licking your slit and your hips shift to get away from the stimulation. Growling as you try to escape from his tongue, San wraps his arms around your waist to prevent you from squirming away.

Whining as San nibbles your clit, you start to bob your head up and down his cock. The sounds from your loud sucking and his lapping are euphonic to San's ears. Lost in your own world you bring your hands to fondle his balls. Bucking his hips, you gag slightly and San swears he could have cum right then and there. Hearing the front door open and multiple feet clamber in and stumble towards the bedroom, he holds himself back just long enough to cum when he hears the two gasps come from the door. Gagging from the sensation of San's cum shooting into the back of your throat, you grind your hips on to San's face as you were pushed over that ledge for the fourth time that afternoon.

And by the way the couple ran from out of the house, the two of you knew that revenge could never be sweeter.

#ateez san #san #ateez choi san #choi san #ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san smut

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chibi-honey-cake · 4 years ago

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How about a drabble with Link having to adventure through cold water, and Sidon gives him a warm place to stay while travelling, said place being his belly?

Spare You The Cold- Prince Si.don x Li.nk

Okay, I put this off too long. Here's your request! TBH, I still haven't played BotW yet (because I knew it would eat literal days of my life lol) so I've been really trying hard to portray things right. I don't really know Prince Sidon well because he himself is a spoiler, but I could not avoid the internet's collective BiG fIsH bOyFrIeNd... ❤️ I really hope I got his character right, I had to look up cutscenes and dialogue. This draws a LOT of inspiration from @nom-central 's wondrous Vore Day story from this year, so if you wanna see the Sidon x Reader fic that inspired this one, click here~ Alright so I guess, here we go!

Contains: Soft Vore, Safe Vore, Half-Size Vore, Male Pred, Male Prey, Willing Prey (I'm also counting this as Protection Vore 'cuz Link needs protecting from his own silly self sometimes. XD) Word Count: 1.5K

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Link knew he should have prepared for this outcome a bit more. Of course the waters would be treacherous when he was venturing this far north. Without protective clothing or equipment, this water would be freezing... But he needed to get beyond this river!

Stubbornness won out as the Hylian hero waded into the water, pausing to brace himself. It was already cold on his ankles and shins, let alone what it would be like in a moment. He had to do this, though. Link couldn't stop now. He took a deep breath, hoped for the best, then threw himself into the water.

Cold! So cold! The temperature was so shocking that it nearly stole his breath away. As soon as he surfaced, Link gasped and spluttered for air. This was one of his bad ideas, he realized immediately. This was not going to work! Gritting his teeth, he immediately gave up this attempt. He quickly paddled himself back to the shore, shivering and panting from the heat-sapping cold.

Well, that was a mess of a failure. Link wrapped his arms around himself, frowning and shivering as he tried to restore more warmth to his chilled skin. He needed to build a fire to warm himself before he caught cold or something.

But it wasn't more than a few seconds later that his plans changed. Apparently his splashing had drawn someone's attention. "Hello there, Link!" a familiar voice called from the river. The blond hero looked up to see the Zora prince waving to him from the water. Link's frown softened into a small smile at the sight, lifting a hand to wave back weakly. Prince Sidon grinned wide, displaying his sharp teeth as he easily swam to the shore. Water cascaded from the large Zora's body as he lifted himself from the water. Link leaned up to meet Sidon's gaze, idly noting that the cold water didn't seem to affect Sidon as much as it did him. In fact, it didn't seem to bother him at all.

"I'm glad I caught up with you," Sidon started as he approached, "You mentioned heading this way, but you traveled faster than I imagined! Especially without swimming." He chuckled, apparently impressed. But he didn't linger on the point for long, diverting when he looked over the shorter hero. "Link, you are not looking so well," Sidon noted, tapping his chin. Link's stance was huddled, his clothing was soaked, and he appeared to be holding back from shivering in an attempt to mask his problem. It clicked in the prince's head immediately. "You didn't actually attempt to swim this river, did you?"

Link winced, knowing his mistake was obvious. His frown twisted, lifting his arms with a stiff shrug.

Sidon's golden eyes widened in shock. "That was reckless!" he scolded gently, "Hylians aren't able to stand colder waters like Zoras! What were you thinking?"

Link couldn't really defend his decision, after all it was just an impulse. Just one of his 'I-bet-I-can-do-this' spur-of-the-moment choices that he always ended up regretting. He shrugged again, glancing guiltily at the ground.

Sidon sighed, running his hand over the shark-like crest on his head. "I think I understand," he murmured, thinking briefly, "You were hoping to go fast... So you figured you could make it, right?" Link agreed with another nod, thoroughly embarrassed by his misplaced confidence. Prince Sidon looked over the shivering hero once more, a mix of concern and respect in his heart. To be so determined to reach your task, even at risk of yourself... It was what being a hero was all about, they both knew that. But he couldn't just leave Link like this.

"I would offer to let you ride upriver with me but you already seem chilled, my friend," Sidon pointed out as Link rubbed his arms for warmth, "And I cannot stand by when I can help!" Sidon knelt down to Link's height, grinning sharply once more, "I can take you beyond the river and give you a chance to warm up, if you like?"

Link's gaze lifted to the Zora's as they shared a silent look between them. Link knew what he was asking- They'd already done this a time or two before. Sure, it was a little- strange, but... Prince Sidon was someone to be trusted. After all, he'd already shown that much. Link nodded in agreement, a shuddering breath leaving his chest.

Sidon's grin widened further, showing off his sharp teeth. "Perfect!" he laughed, reaching out as Link approached, "Always glad to help." The Zora Prince took no hesitation, his larger hands grasping Link's shoulders. His mouth parted wide, a mildly-intimidating sight with how imposing his figure was. But the Hylian trusted him, closing his eyes as he felt a warm breath against his face.

His broad, smooth tongue curled beneath Link's chin, guiding his head over Sidon's sharp teeth safely. His head easily fit into the prince's mouth, warmer saliva slicking his skin. Just the softer warmth of his mouth made the chill in the rest of the hero's body all that more obvious, making him wish that Sidon might go faster this time...

But Sidon paused for just a moment to taste him, his tongue sliding past his cheek. Sidon hummed appreciatively, his tongue turning to the young man's neck. He nudged Link's head towards the back of his throat and a strong swallow pulled him into the entrance of the throat.

Sidon rumbled another hum, swallowing again to push his shoulders down next. It was a good thing Zoras had adapted to being able to take live meals, though usually this method was used on fish. Thankfully their stomachs weren't very powerful, making this technique quite handy for other purposes.

The Zora prince kept his tongue between Link and his teeth, not wanting to harm his friend- and he could taste as he went, win-win. Taking more of the Hylian's torso in, Sidon noted that he was keeping still save for a subtle tremor. Considering how cold Link felt as he swallowed further towards his waist, he should probably hurry up to get the soaked hero out of the cool air.

Link held himself back from fidgeting even though the sensation was still a little strange to him. The muscles inside the Zora prince were smooth, slick, and strong- which, come to think of it, also described the outside of Sidon. His swallowing felt effortless, more of Link's chilled frame slipping deeper inside. He passing by the source of the Zora's powerful heartbeat in a hurry, massaged closer to his destination. Link let out a low sigh of contentment, the warmth of Sidon's larger, powerful body seeping into his and banishing the cold bit by bit. He felt gravity shift to aid his trip inside, limply allowing his frame to slide downward towards the warm belly of his friend.

Sidon lifted Link's shorter frame, both of them working towards their mutual end goal. Prince Sidon pushed the Hylian's legs up as he tilted his head back, the slick muscles inside making the act of swallowing merely a formality. It was over in a few quick gulps, the last of Link quickly slithering down Sidon's throat. He swallowed one last time, making sure to tuck all of the Hylian safely in his stomach before anything else.

He felt the smaller frame of the Hylian slip easily into his belly, a soft gurgle welcoming his arrival. Sidon placed his fingers to his smooth, rounded belly, pressing in slightly to guide Link's body into a more comfortable position. Link accepted his help gratefully, wriggling carefully to nestle into the crook of the Zora prince's tum. "There..." Sidon let out a pleased sigh, "Isn't that better? You'll be warmer in no time, my friend!"

Link's shivering inside had lessened; even though Sidon could still feel the chill from the Hylian's frame inside, he was quickly thawing. Even the lukewarm insides of the Zora were warmer than he had been. It would at least help warm him more slowly to keep Link safe from injury. Link didn't answer with words, but gave a friendly pat to the inner walls of his stomach.

Prince Sidon couldn't help but laugh, answering with his own soft pat. "Good then," Sidon crooned, turning to wade back into the river. He could insulate and help his friend to reach his destination without stress now. "I'll ferry you down the river, you just sit tight."

As Sidon dipped into the cooler waters, his hand caressed his warm tum gently. Another long gurgle rumbled loose as Link shifted to curl up inside. However, Link was still fairly cold... and no one said that he couldn't take his time getting there, did they? Prince Sidon hummed playfully to himself, pushing through the cooler currents with ease. Link needed rest and warmth; letting him stay inside was the least Sidon could do after all Link had done for him and his people.

#chibi writes a thing #anonymous #loz vore #extreme cuddling #v.ore #soft vore #safe vore #half size vore #male pred #male prey #willing prey #protective vore #Thanks again to nom-central for being a beta reader!#Thank you!#I was so worried I hadn't gotten his personality right

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husbandograveyard · 4 years ago

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Matchup for @elliemehl

Hazel my dear, thank you for this wonderful event ❤️ you’re amazing and ILU sm, here’s some infos about me for the match up!

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Female, INFJ, Libra, I’m 1.73 tall and curvy, I have long and wavy ash-brown hair, hazel eyes and fair skin. I think my style can be described as casual fashion, but when I’m home I usually wear oversized tshirts and shorts!

I’m shy and reserved and I share very little about myself with others, but I’m also very open about my ideals. With people I care I’m soft and overprotective, and once you get to know me and I’m comfortable around you, I hardly shut up.

I’m clumsy af, lazy, messy, I get easily distracted and I can be a bit bratty sometimes. I also have the worst sleeping habits, I go to sleep at impossible hours, sleep a little and take naps through the day.

I like the comfort of my home, my favorite food is pizza and when I’m not drawing you can catch me playing videogames or watching movies! I love and am attracted by neon/bright colors.

A fact about me is that I’m quite a good swimmer, I started swimming at a very young age and I used to spent 90% of my time at the beach in the water as a kid (this hasn’t changed now that I’m an adult tbh).

Ellie! I love you and your patience!! I am SO SO SO Sorry for making you wait one eternity and three hours! I hope you can enjoy this matchup, I took some liberties with it QwQ. I match you with....

OTP: Mihawk

Hear me out! I am not gonna lie, and in my elimination process, once we talked about not minding the elder man and even sometimes preferring them, I just went on scratched out all the babies and then through further process of elimination I got you one (1) goth dad(dy)! Jokes aside, let’s get into the matchup!

While Mihawk is more on the classy side of the spectrum of One Piece men, don’t you ever think for a second this man is boring, his dry observations are incredibly funny, never failing to make you laugh while maintaining a straight face himself. He knows how to deal with your more messy and bratty side, straightening you out a little without either of you actually realizing it.

Mihawk is quite the romantic once he’s fallen for someone (which is rare) and fits a more indoor-prone lifestyle very well. It’s not like you never go out -quite the contrary, there’s regular trips mentioned later and the occasional dinner out- but he actually prefers staying in, sharing a home-made meal and a couch in close proximity.

He will regularly return home with little things that reminded him of you, and the way he presents them is not really sappy but just a genuine, almost deadpan expression of how you occupy his minds. Flowers are pretty high on the gift-list as well.

Favorite dates are lowkey and inside, but every once in a while he will take you on the tiny boat to a gorgeous island with the bluest lake you have ever seen, with nice rocks so you can jump into the water and enjoy the entire day swimming! He will not join you in the water out of his own volition, but if you ask nicely... well there is no one around, and as a pirate he’s quite the good swimmer as well.

Rounding it off for the sake of it becoming too long, but Mihawk takes proper care of you, drawing you nice-smelling baths with candles lit around it whenever you’ve had an extremely tiring day, and even learning how to bake your favorite pizza’s. And he has just the right wine to go along with it.

Runner up: Trafalgar Law

Okay look. With every single one of these I tried to erase all the things in my mind that I already knew. And yet here we are with one (1) sleep deprived gremlin for your match.

Law matches so well with the third paragraph of your description, you can be both working on whatever is occupying your brain at 3 am, grab a coffee and then finally get to sleep around sunrise, maybe just a little nap, before returning to what you were doing before. Law is all for the softer affection and sharing a nap is one of them!

Why is not your number 1 match: Well, say goodbye to any pattern or daily routine because honestly the two of you would spiral, I feel like your match would be someone you can lean on a little more, and who will take a little better care. Another -maybe more stupid- deal breaker is that you can never go on swimming dates, and that’s also sad. If you can get over that all, it’s a great match still!

BrOTP: Shirahoshi

Hear me out! Shirahoshi is a little young, but I feel like she would be a wonderful friend for you! She is an absolute lovely girl ready to shower you with all the love and praise and fuel your confidence!

Shirahoshi knows all the best ways to just sit inside and chill and genuinely have enjoyable days while not putting too much effort into all the things! Your basic hangout days are just self care to the max, sharing your favorite food and pampering yourselves and each other.

Shirahoshi is a great listener, and while she does not always come up with the best advice, she is actually excellent at just offering comfort and keeping secrets! She also is always down to fangirl over actual crushes and fictional ones! She tends to hyperfixate a little so drag her into your hobbies and you have someone to talk with for forever!

#Naku no matchup #500 followers event #one piece #one piece matchup

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kvngjoong · 5 years ago

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changbin + nsfw a-z

changbin and I are literally the same person, our personality type is the same, we like the same things, we are the same height, same blood type, born the SAME day, and now i’ve done this i’m fully convinced if we ever meet one another it will just be the spider man meme

A: Aftercare

i don’t think there would be much afterwards. he would probably just fall back on the pillow, eyes shut and mouth slightly open, his entire body working through what just happened between you. he’ll grow more affectionate the longer you’re together and probably become a tiny bit better with aftercare but for the most part, that’s on you buddy

B: Body part

he likes his chest/arms, cause he can make you look so small next to him without even trying, so for you it’s your waist because it’s kinda tiny and he wraps his arms around your waist makes him feel bigger again. he has a low key size kink because he feels kinda emasculated since he’s not that tall (sorry chanbinnie) and likes to feel bigger than you, at least in that sense

C: Cum

whilst he cums easily, a subsequent orgasm won’t be the easiest thing for him. he cums quite a bit more than average, something you might not have expected from him, and he tastes better than average too. it’s a joyful experience with changbin, which isn’t something that you can say for everyone

D: Dirty Secret

changbin can be very needy, as said before. he sometimes finds himself getting off to the smallest of things. like the one time he took this silk dress from your wardrobe that he thought looked really nice on you and used it to jerk off with. he never said anything about it again, he didn’t even act like he knew why it was mixed in with your washing when you openly asked why it was there since you hadn’t washed it. he feels bad for it, since he never told you, but you looked really nice in it and the material was nice to touch (and use)

E: Experience

a bit, but not too much. probably focused on other things his entire life and turned people down unintentionally for other things. he also seems like he is the type to not pick up on people’s signals. so there’s that

F: Favourite Position

he’s gonna smack your ass a few times so doggy, but if he’s sub then he likes it when you’re on top - cowgirl or something similar. likes it a bit kinkier so don’t expect missionary to come up very often unless your legs are over his shoulders and he’s got something your butt too

G: Goofy

he can take a joke and make one too. not everything has to be serious with him. may even pull out the aegyo from time to time and you guys start laughing so hard that you have to stop to calm down (and then not actually do anything, what the fuck changbin). if it was serious the whole time then it would just make him uncomfortable and the atmosphere between the two of you would be different. your relationship isn’t like that in general

H: Hair

he probably...makes...an...effort?? to shave but like sometimes he can’t be bothered so it’s hit and miss. he’s not that bothered by it but sometimes he wants to take care of himself so he’ll trim his hair or shave it but since he’s not bothered, he won’t be like i gotta do it every thursday or that’s it. not unless he has a special occasion (wink)

I: Intimacy

whilst it may not always seem completely intimate with him, it is - don’t worry. he sees sex as more than just fucking and will probably make that more obvious the longer that you’re together. he may not express his emotions all the time, but know that each time he pushes you against a wall, you’re the only one he wants to do it with and he’s doing it because he loves you

J: Jack Off

he does it a healthy amount, should there be more to it? will send you a video or two with a follow up message like ‘wish you were here 🥵🥺’ then adamantly deny he ever did it. likes to jack off in front of you too, having you tied up to the bed and needy to touch him but he does it himself, or have you control how he jerks off when you dom

K: Kink

there could literally just be a list but i’ll spare you that. he’s into a lot of the bdsm stuff, both giving and receiving - he likes bondage, organsm denial, a hint of sadism, biting, general dom/sub stuff, restrictions, the cliche things tbh. he likes experimenting and will occasionally order something in your name so you open it and find inside a spreader bar or a whip or something. he wants to explore that side of things, and would really like if you joined him

L: Location

literally, it could be anywhere. he’s down for it as long as it’s not public. the bathroom at a club, the hallway when you first come through your apartment door, the kitchen side, he’s gonna use it to get you off. somehow though, unless it’s a quickie, it will always end up in the bedroom. maybe because it’s easier in there - changbin gravitates to somewhere he can fall asleep naturally

M: Motivation

you really think he has to see a picture of you looking a little nsfw to get horny? nope. it could literally be a word that sets him off. he’ll be talking to you and you’ll say something and somewhere right at the back of his mind he’ll remember what you did at a random date and time and he’ll be like damn, wish that was happening right now. and he’s off. but revealing clothes (not completely, only slightly) will also get his attention

N: NO

the usual. not into anything like scat which is usual, probably isn’t into voyeurism either because he thinks it’s a bit weird. probably wouldn’t have any hard limits at the top of his head so it’s up to you to set them - he’s into most things, maybe a few soft limits, but he’s a kink little bitch so there’s no worries with him

O: Oral

it’s integral for him. sex wouldn’t be the same if he wasn’t spending at least a quarter of it with his hand in your hair, bobbing your head up and down on his dick, and another quarter with his lips sucking at your clit as he smirks because you obviously really enjoyed whatever he just did so he’s definitely going to do it again. he enjoys both giving and receiving, and when he’s domhe can take it to another level and do some bdsm stuff with it too (anyone wanted their clit bitten? call changbin)

P: Pace

faster and harder than you may have expected it. slow? changbin doesn’t know what that word means. he’s gonna make you wish you took him up on his offer or eating you out or something because when he fucks you it’s enough to literally make you cry. that album… reckless and relentless… it was written about changbin. he’s not afraid to leave a few marks here or there and give you some trouble walking the next day

Q: Quickie

just because they’re common with him doesn’t automatically mean it’s preference of his… changbin would want things to be slower sometimes. but life has to happen and he accepts that sometimes it’s the only thing you both can do. usually when it’s a quickie you’ll just be sucking his dick or he’ll be fingering you, but hey, it’s whatever - you both get off so what’s the problem?

R: Risk

he doesn’t mind an occasional possibility of someone catching you guys at it but he would prefer some time between the two of you and doesn’t like to rush things (unless the point is rushing things, then risk is part of it). he draws a line at public sex but an open space is fine for him, given that there still is a bit of privacy

S: Stamina

he can go for a while, but he usually doesn’t. since he struggles with cumming twice, he will stick to just one round and put as much effort into it as he can do. which means it’s gonna be a long, wild ride with him - and most of it won’t be him actually fucking you, he’s better with the whole foreplay bit

T: Toy

he actually doesn’t mind them!! at first he will be apprehensive to actually introduce them into any sexual activities (and will blush at the thought of it) but after you bring it up, he’s happy to suggest what toys he wants to buy and will spend some time looking through stuff with you online. he’s a bit fan of collars and wrist ties, for both you and him

U: Unfair

he’s a bit of a tease in general, but only beforehand. when you’re actually getting at it, changbin will never avoid trying to get you off. he wants to please you no matter whether that’s by actually pleasing you or showing you that he’s a good boy. it’s only during the night before he mentions that he's got a boner that he’s a tease, and it’s usually when he whispers things in your ear and keeps his hands on you for a little too long

V: Volume

whilst he isn’t afraid to make noises when he’s in that mood, he doesn’t usually make any unless he’s the sub. as before, he can do both dom and sub but when he does sub it’s a completely different side of him you might not have ever seen before (or expected). he’ll be a whining mess and begging you for more, moaning to no end to show you how good you are. if he’s dom then he’ll stick to a few groans and some dirty talk

W: Wild Card

this may not be a surprise, but changbin seems like he would really be into someone who was tatted and pierced. like he would get an immediate hard on over seeing you with a tattoo or a new piercing that you got done. it’s not even necessarily sexual ones, literally an ear piercing would make him go ooh and think it look hot. but that isn’t to say that he doesn’t appreciate if you did get a piercing done which was more nsfw - he would be itching to play with it as soon as he could

X: X-Ray

he’s shorter, but thicker. fills you up pretty well and can please you nonetheless so it’s pleasurable so you won’t have anything to complain about - anything he can’t do himself, he’ll make sure you get

Y: Yearning

a needy baby is a yearning baby. he always wants to do stuff and it’s guaranteed he will be down for something if you are. whilst he probably gets horny a lot he doesn’t actually need to do anything and can resist the temptation to distract you and get on with something else

Z: ZZZ

doesn’t usually fall asleep afterwards, but definitely on the more tired side afterwards. he will be kinda sleep laying next to you, probably have his head on your shoulder as he mumbles things that are slightly incoherent with his eyes mostly shut. he’ll wake up a bit as time goes on and be down to do whatever you want, but if you’re dragging him out of the bedroom he’ll be loosely holding your hand as you drag him to the kitchen or wherever

#changbin smut #changbin reactions #changbin scenarios #changbin imagine #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids #a-z

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 5 years ago

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Love Yourself: Chapter 35

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 5.5k story words: 289k (so far) chapter: 35/? rating: e warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression, consensual d/s undertones genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: hello all! apologies for the VERY long wait. i had this chapter in basically this exact same condition a MONTH ago and didn't post because i intended to be nice and add to it. however, i kept NOT, because tbh i'd always planned to end the chapter here, and didn't want to end it here just because of the long wait, and then the wait became longer... and then it became a whole cycle.

but i had an impulsive moment tonight, and basically demanded the ever-lovely elizajane's attention and cleaned it up for posting. i knew i'd just sit on it for ages if i didnt post, and the odds of adding it to it was probably low. now that it's out there, the odds of me moving forward and writing shoot up dramatically haha.

thank you each and every one of you for your never-ending and ever-present support. i love how patient and enthusiastic you are, even when i make you wait literal months for a chapter. my work life has been very hectic lately (i'm applying for a big thing this fall and it's a lot of time and effort and writing), but i promise i'm dedicating actual time in the next week to actually sitting down and sketching out how i want to get from here to the intended ending. i want everyone to experience the ending i have in my head for this fic, and i wanna figure out how to make that happen for all of us.

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Taking a break from the world and enjoying each other’s company was a wonderful decision. And sure, they had spent half the day working, but they’d been working together. In bed. Alone.

This was a development that Phil was very okay with. For one, working in bed was a lot more comfortable than the chairs at B&G. And while skype calls were better than the coffee shop, where Phil was at least able to sit on his sofa instead of a stiff chair, they didn’t hold a candle to this setup. Because in this new arrangement, Phil had been able to reach out and touch Dan anytime he’d wanted. And Dan could touch him back — in fact, Dan had spent the majority of the day touching him back.

Plus, once they’d finished their work, they’d been able to set computers and journals and pens aside and focus on each other. Three hours, a nap, and another round of making out later, Phil was feeling… content. He couldn’t quite place the feeling. It was domestic and warm, nice in a way he hadn’t ever really experienced before. In a way he very much wanted to experience for as long as possible.

It had been a solid twenty minutes, maybe thirty — Phil couldn’t see the clock from his current position — since Dan had settled in Phil’s arms again, arm looped around Phil’s bare waist, head tucked into Phil’s shoulder. For a while, Dan had been tracing faint, tickling designs on Phil’s side, but somewhere along the way, the movements had stopped. Phil was beginning to wonder if Dan had fallen asleep again. It wouldn’t have been that surprising; in fact, it might have been the only explanation for Dan being this quiet and this still for this long. Quiet and still weren’t exactly Dan’s normal behavior.

Curious, Phil grazed his fingers up and down Dan’s arm, keeping his touch light enough that it wouldn’t wake Dan if he was asleep, but just enough that Dan would still be able to feel it if he was in fact awake. Phil was surprised when Dan let out a quiet hum. Stilling his fingers, Phil turned his head to peek at Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, but his lips were quirked up into a small smile, giving away the fact that he was undoubtedly awake. Awake — and maybe, just maybe, happy. Phil’s mouth twitched up into a small smile of his own — Dan’s happiness made him happy.

“That felt nice,” Dan murmured, just a smidge of petulance in his voice. Phil took the hint and resumed gently stroking Dan’s arm. “Good boy,” Dan mumbled, so quiet that Phil could barely hear him.

Chuckling, Phil bit back a quip about how Dan was the good boy here, because now didn’t seem like the right time for that. Now was too soft of a moment to have a serious conversation about it, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment to… derail with sex. It was too nice. So instead, Phil relaxed quietly and let his fingers draw aimless paths from Dan’s shoulder to his wrist, enjoying the moment.

“This is nice,” Dan murmured again, this time sounding nothing but pleased as he wiggled closer to Phil, his head burrowing ever so slightly deeper into Phil’s shoulder and his grip tightening just a hair.

“It is,” Phil agreed lowly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

A beat of silence passed between them, and Phil wondered if Dan was just as reluctant to break the reverie as he was.

But the silence couldn’t last forever — Phil didn’t expect that it could. A few minutes later, Dan was tilting his head up to look at Phil, his eyes already filled with dread. “I’m beginning to feel a bit badly about ignoring the rest of the world, though.” Dan didn’t sound like he felt guilty, his voice the same serene, easy tone as before.

“Get up on the count of three?” Phil offered, stilling his hand on Dan’s bicep.

“I don’t feel that bad,” Dan whined with an exaggerated eyeroll.

Phil giggled at the adorable manchild in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, his fingers once again resuming their path. “You can count at whatever pace you want, silly old bear.”

Dan’s gaze softened, and his lips shifted from an immature pout to a playful smirk. “Fine, but we’re starting at negative five,” he compromised smugly, sounding sure that he’d gotten the best of Phil.

“Deal,” Phil agreed readily. His desire to move Dan was half-hearted at best, really only driven by Dan’s ambivalent efforts to get up.

Dan, apparently satisfied with Phil’s response, settled his head back into the crevice of Phil’s neck, and looped his arm snugly around Phil’s stomach. Burrowing his head closer to Phil’s chest, Dan murmured a quiet and unconvincing negative four.

It took Dan fifteen minutes to count to zero, and another ten to get to three. True to their agreement, though, Dan pushed himself up and out of Phil’s arms as he called out the last number. Seeming to capitalize on his momentum, Dan swung his legs to the floor and climbed out of the bed, swiping both their phones off the nightstand.

“Is it time?” Phil asked, unable to curb his reluctance, even as he caught his phone when Dan threw it at him.

“It’s time,” Dan confirmed, still standing by the bed. He didn’t sound any more pleased about it than Phil felt, but he was already in the process of unlocking his own phone, so Phil figured there was no escaping reality at this point.

Pressing his thumb to the home button, Phil unlocked his phone, only getting as far as his home screen — where there were approximately fifty thousand notifications — before he was sidetracked by a sharp what the fuck from Dan.

For a second, Phil was torn on what to do first. It seemed like every app had at least a dozen notifications — and some had literally hundreds. His finger froze, debating if he should open his email or twitter or instagram or tumblr or messages or whatsapp or —

Jesus, even Phil’s calendar app had notifications. That never happened, not outside of previously-discussed meeting invitations at least.

“What in the actual fuck?” Dan muttered, drawing Phil’s attention up; Dan, and his confused distress, seemed like a better place to start than the notifications anyway. Everyone else in the world could wait — and not just because they weren’t right in front of Phil.

“What is it?” he asked, trying his best to keep the apprehensive fear out of his voice (and doing a bang up job of it, he was certain).

“I— someone— last night—” Dan stopped and started several times, his voice growing higher and higher pitched with every attempt, his eyes still focused on his screen. Each start gave no more insight to his increasing distress than the last.

“Dan,” Phil urged, his voice just this side of commanding. He was nervous and increasingly worried, and his anxiety was already getting the best of him.

“There’s— picture,” Dan finally spat out, voice strangled, panicked.

Realization — and his own fair share of fear — washed over Phil, a deep sense of dread churning in his stomach as his mind flashed through image after erotic image of what could have been photographed from last night: Dan blushing at the table while they talked about rimming, Dan straddling his lap in the club and grinding down, Phil pressing Dan against the bar and feeding him limes in the most suggestive way possible, Dan grinding his arse into his crotch and dancing on a crowded and anonymous dance floor…

Phil’s imagination was saved the effort of conjuring up more wonderful but wildly inappropriate memories by Dan thrusting his phone into Phil’s face, far too close for Phil to actually focus on the image on the screen. Calmly, or at least in some version of what Phil hoped seemed calm but probably wasn’t, Phil plucked the phone out of Dan’s hand and held it at a reasonable distance, preparing himself for the worst.

His eyes adjusted, and he took in the picture.

The first thing Phil noticed was that the photo was dark and grainy, but there was no mistaking it was them, not with Dan’s brown curls and dark clothes, and Phil’s dark quiff and brighter outfit. Still, it was far better than any of Phil’s fears — it wasn’t from the restaurant or the club or the dance floor, they weren’t grinding or kissing or teasingly touching each other.

The picture didn’t scream platonic friends, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything explicitly confirmatory about it. There were no obvious hickeys, no lips pressed against lips or throats or collarbones, no hands straying to explicitly private parts.

There was still a shred of plausible deniability.

Oddly enough, the picture seemed to capture the same thing Dan’s new lyrics had — the softer, more romantic and gentle part of the night, the part where they’d sunk into each other. The part where they were full of lust, but undoubtedly full of something else, too.

No, the photo wasn’t some dirty, grainy shot of them at their horniest. It was taken from the back, which explained why they hadn’t noticed the photographer — although the absurd amount of alcohol probably explained that equally as well. They were stopped at a crosswalk, standing side-by-side on the corner, their arms looped around each other’s waists.

Or, well, Dan’s arm was looped around Phil’s waist. Phil’s arm was a bit — a lot — lower. His hand wasn’t so much gripping Dan’s hip as it was the side of his arse.

The placement of Phil’s wandering hand wasn’t great, but compared to their faces…

Dan’s head was tipped sideways onto Phil’s shoulder, chin angled up so his mouth was very obviously accessible for Phil’s. Phil’s own face was turned to look at Dan, bent down at an unnatural angle, his expression a blurry picture of fondness.

Phil couldn’t help but wonder why the photographer — whoever they were — shared this moment, and not the one immediately after. The moment where Phil was nearly certain he’d closed the small distance between them and kissed Dan’s begging lips.

It looked coupley, of course it did, it couldn’t not. But there was room to spin it.

Probably.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Phil schooled his face into a neutral expression and lowered the phone — not that it mattered that much; it wasn’t like Dan’s phone was big enough to hide Phil’s entire face, and Phil was certain that his initial expression hadn’t been the most… composed of all reactions he could have had.

“Okay,” Phil said shortly. His one-word response was clipped, monotone. Drawing a deep breath, he tried his best to sound a bit more alive, a bit more positive, when he continued. “Could’ve been worse, all things considered.”

There. That was a true statement.

Dan raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, shrugging his shoulder in a noncommittal I guess fashion. He snatched his phone out of Phil’s hand and studied the picture for a second longer before looking back up to Phil.

“You can’t tell if either of us are hard, I guess that’s something,” Dan finally conceded. He pursed his lips, his mouth scrunching to one side as he stared harder at his screen.

“True,” Phil agreed, genuinely thankful for the small victory — he knew he’d been at least semi-hard for a large part of the previous night, and he was pretty sure the same went for Dan, too. Phil’s branding could handle some drunk walking and cuddling with a friend (or someone more, his audience didn’t need to know the specifics). He wasn’t sure how well his branding would mesh with stiff cocks and hot lips and groping hands, though.

Twirling his own phone between his thumb and forefinger, Phil trained his gaze on Dan’s face, carefully watching for any minute hint of emotion. Dan’s expression was steadfastly neutral, albeit pinched, though, making it nearly impossible for Phil to read what Dan was thinking.

“What next?” Phil finally relented when the silence went on for too long. The desperation to do something — whether it was responding to every single tweet they’d been tagged in or deleting every contact who’d messaged them about the picture — was gnawing at Phil’s nerves and his fingers were itching to do anything at this point.

Antarctica could be nice, Phil thought. At least penguins were cute. And probably easier to please than excited fans.

Dan sighed, dropping his attention back down to his phone. “I reckon we should start by seeing what people are saying,” Dan mumbled, already tapping about on his phone as he collapsed back onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard, his side pressing up alongside Phil’s. “No point in talking ‘bout what we want to do until we know what everyone’s thinking.”

“Great,” Phil agreed, an uncharacteristic note of sarcasm creeping into his response — maybe it was from being around Dan so much, or maybe it was the only way he could cope with the severity of the current situation. “Reading through all my twitter mentions is exactly what I want to do right now,” he huffed, punctuating his complaint with an eyeroll.

Dan and his sass were definitely beginning to rub off on him.

Whining aside, both Dan and Phil opened their twitters. Phil swiped directly over to his mentions, impatience getting the best of him. Almost all of them mentioned Dan too, and a not-insignificant portion were in response to the original tweeted picture of them. Phil had learned from experience: the more people responded to the source of gossip, the more people the gossip reached.

As Phil scrolled through his tweets, he gathered that most people's reactions were positive — ranging from excited keyboard smashes to multi-tweet threads of encouragement, support, and firm warnings to respect his and Dan’s privacy. Somewhere in between the extremes, though, were a bunch of overly intrusive, speculative tweets that had Phil groaning. There were tweets that tried to guess at the context of the photo, tweet threads that in-depth speculated on the nature of his and Dan’s relationship, back-and-forth tweets arguing about the timeline of their romance.

It was too much to keep reading, and besides, Phil had well gotten the gist of it all by now. He glanced over at Dan, mainly to see his reaction, only to find that Dan was scrolling through a hashtag that Phil had only noticed in passing, not fully registering its popularity.

#Phanconfirmed

“There’s a hashtag?” Phil asked wearily, despite the fact that between his feed and Dan’s screen, the answer was obvious.

“It’s trending,” Dan confirmed, his voice still flat as he scrolled through page after page of tweets. “Worldwide,” he added.

“Fuck,” Phil mumbled, incapable of much else at this moment. Dan might have been hung up reading tweets in the hashtag, but Phil was pretty certain he didn’t have it in him at this moment in time. Closing out of the app, Phil switched over to his calendar, then his voicemail, then his messages.

Just from the badges on the apps, Phil knew it’d be bad. All things considered, though, he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he should have been. “I’ve got eight missed calls, five voicemails, and three virtual meeting invites from my manager,” Phil said, half to himself and half to Dan. “And a rather demanding text.”

And those weren’t even counting the ones from PJ and Martyn and his mum. Now definitely didn’t seem like the moment to deal with those.

“Shit,” Dan cursed under his breath. “I should probably check mine, too,” he conceded, this time a little louder.

Phil tore his eyes from his screen — he didn’t particularly want to keep staring at Marianne’s assertive call me asap message anyway — and watched as Dan tapped through his own phone and message apps.

“Sixteen calls, nine voicemails, and ten texts from Louise,” Dan read off unnecessarily, still sounding like he was in a state of shock. Tapping back to his full message list, Dan continued, “Adaline texted five times, too. I’m sure those aren’t hunting for gossip at all,” Dan huffed, dropping his phone and burying his face in his hands.

Phil made a sympathetic noise. His brother wasn’t much of a gossiper, but his whole family knew Martyn was more likely to get dirt out of Phil than anyone else, so he was willing to bet his brother’s texts had the same intentions as Dan’s sister’s.

Dan rubbed his face, clearly agitated. “Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what my parents are saying — I kind of put a moratorium on discussing my love life with them.”

As much as that statement piqued Phil’s interest, he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it right now; his mind was too focused on his own parents — and the fact that he'd barely gotten around to telling his mum anything. He’d shot her a text while they were waiting to board their plane to New York, just a vague message about how she might be seeing his name pop up in celebrity gossip columns and yes he was dating someone and no he didn’t have time to call her and regale her with the details right then. That definitely wasn’t enough anymore, not given the fact that there was now actual photographic evidence of Phil intertwined with a very obviously famous boy that his mum would definitely recognize. So Phil filed Dan’s stray comment about keeping his parents and love life separate into the discuss later part of his brain.

Turning his focus back to the problem at hand, Phil tried to search for a solution. “We should call them, right? Our managers, I mean,” Phil asked, uncertain and unconvinced with his own suggestion. “Or should we talk about this first, just us?”

Dan clicked his phone off, chucking it haphazardly into his lap, and rolled his head to face Phil. His face was still tense with stress, his eyes lit up with something far too close to regret for Phil’s comfort.

“I’m sorry I was all over you last night, I feel like this is my fault,” Dan lamented, his eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds. It wasn’t an answer to Phil’s question, it was just an… unnecessary apology.

“Hey,” Phil said softly, nudging his shoulder against Dan’s and tipping his head up with gentle fingers on Dan’s chin. Their gazes finally met, and Phil pressed a sweet kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Last night was just as much me as it was you,” Phil assured him.

“Yeah, but I was the sloppy, needy one who practically begged his boyfriend to take care of him,” Dan rebutted, his face still filled with far more remorse than Phil ever wanted to see on it.

“Shush,” Phil admonished kindly. “You may have been a bit needy, but I was more than willing to take care of you, baby. I don’t want you to ever feel bad for asking for what you need, I want to give it to you no matter what.”

Dan’s eyes snapped shut again, his breath coming a bit heavier than it had been a minute ago. A tense moment passed before he finally spoke.

“Fuck, Phil. You can’t just say shit like that,” he grumbled, eyes batting open and boring into Phil’s. “Not if you’re not willing to fuck me, anyway,” he added, a hint of a smirk toying at his lips.

“Later, babe, after we deal with this.” Phil kissed Dan’s forehead again, this time letting his lips linger for a few seconds before pulling back and letting Dan’s chin dip back down. Gaze trained on the top of Dan’s head and eyes tracing the messy curls, Phil’s mind drifted back to the problem at hand.

Fiddling with his phone in one hand as he searched for what to say next, Phil’s mind fumbled through vague, half-formed ideas. But before he could articulate any of them, the harsh, unexpected vibrating of his phone derailed his thoughts. Even as he glanced down, Phil could already guess that the call was from his manager — in hindsight, the buzzing really shouldn’t be that surprising, given all the other missed calls.

“I can let it go to voicemail,” Phil offered, making no move to answer the call. “That way we can talk first.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. “Stalling won’t make things any easier. Just… figure out what she’s thinking and don’t agree to anything major, and I’ll do the same with Louise and then we can figure it out together.”

“Mmk,” Phil hummed in agreement, swiping to answer the call at the last second. “Hi, Marianne,” he greeted when the call connected. His voice had none of its usual enthusiasm, and his attention was only half focused on the call — the rest of it was watching Dan dial his own call, presumably to Louise, as he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door.

As much as Phil wanted to know what was happening with Dan’s conversation, the separation was probably for the best. Phil was certain that he wouldn’t be able to focus on his own conversation if Dan was still in the room.

Marianne didn’t beat around the bush; there were no pleasantries, no polite inquiries about his trip to the US. Instead, she jumped right into the crux of the drama.

“Phil, I didn’t push you to address the rumors when Dan came out,” Marianne said, her voice stern and leaving no room for discussion. “But you cannot ignore two scandals in a week.”

“I —” Phil started, intending to push back. But even as he pieced together his rebuttal, he knew she was right. His silence would only fuel the rumors, and besides, he felt like he needed to tell his audience something. In the past, he’d always been open about his friends, had always regaled his audience with tales of his travels, had always acknowledged any drama he was dragged into.

Phil sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was definitely going to have to do something publically. “Fine, you’re right. What do you have in mind?”

“The sooner you respond, the better,” Marianne answered immediately, sounding like she’d already thought this through — and she probably had. Unlike Phil, she’d known about this for almost the whole day, not a handful of minutes. “I think you should move your liveshow up to tonight. You should probably start by saying that you’re in New York with Dan, even though that’s well obvious at this point.”

Phil huffed a laugh, but Marianne continued without pausing.

“You can let the picture come up naturally — I’m sure plenty of people will be asking about it. Don’t just answer the first one on a whim though, wait until you find one that you feel comfortable answering. One you think can be a good opening to the topic. And then you can tell your version of the story.”

“Okay,” Phil said slowly, his mind already fast-forwarding to the liveshow, spinning the story different ways and imagining how his audience might respond. Sighing, Phil asked the question he knew Marianne would answer anyway, but that he just wanted out of the way at this point. “I know you have an opinion about what I should say, so let’s hear it,” he mumbled, resigned. At this point, he had no idea what he should do, and he was open to just about any suggestion.

“Of course I do,” Marianne said. Phil bit his lip, waiting with bated breath to hear her assessment. “But,” she continued after a second’s pause, “this isn’t just about your career, it’s your life. And it’s Dan’s life, too. Whatever you say, it needs to be what’s right for the both of you, and I can’t answer that.”

“I — yeah. You’re right. Thanks,” Phil said gratefully before running through the logistics of the liveshow. One of his favorite parts about working with Marianne was that she wasn’t overly controlling, especially when it came to stuff that would actually impact Phil’s personal life.

“So…” Marianne broached tentatively. “Do you think you know what you want to do?”

Phil cast his gaze about the room, his eyes catching on movement from the hallway; the bathroom door was opening and Dan stepped out, one hand aggravatedly rubbing down his face.

“Not yet, Marianne,” Phil answered, his eyes trained on Dan. “I’ll figure it out before I go live tonight, though.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed politely. There was a brief pause before, “Phil?”

“Mmm?” Phil hummed in response, thrown off by the uncharacteristically tentative tone.

Marianne took a deep breath. “Do whatever you think is best,” she said, strong and sure. “You have my full support.”

“Thanks,” Phil murmured, taken aback by the sincerity of the moment — he always had known Marianne cared for him, she’d been his manager for years after all, but their relationship was always based on business. They weren’t like Dan and Louise, they weren’t friends first and professionals second.

The unconditional support, while perhaps surprising, was certainly welcomed.

“I’ll let you know what we decide,” Phil promised softly. After saying goodbye, he hung up and turned to Dan, who was already off the phone with Louise and hovering near the entrance to the bedroom.

Phil tapped his phone against his thigh, his nervous energy needing some outlet. He glanced down and saw that the screen had gone back to the last thing he was looking at before the call came through — twitter. “So Marianne wants me to—”

“Do your liveshow tonight,” Dan finished for him swiftly. He moved further into the room, sitting back on his side of the bed. “Yeah, I gathered.”

Turning his attention to his phone, Phil navigated back to his profile. He clicked on the picture and gave it a good, long stare, trying trying to analyze it objectively. Trying to see it through his audience’s eyes.

Trying to decipher his own feelings about it.

“What do I say?” Phil asked, holding his breath. His own indecisiveness aside, he needed to know where Dan’s mind was at. Phil knew Dan hadn’t wanted to get into the specifics with their audiences, but, well, things had clearly changed. And now, Phil had no idea what to expect — he wasn’t sure if Dan would want to hold onto that shred of deniability, or if Dan’s newly-loud bi-pride would mean he’d want to fully embrace the implications of the picture.

At this point, Phil wasn’t even sure how he wanted to handle the picture. Objectively, he knew the most on brand way spin it: find the most platonic, innocent angle and double down, deny any sexual or romantic implications. He didn’t need to say it out loud, didn’t need to hear Marianne say it, to know it was the most AmazingPhil reaction he could muster up.

But even as he played out the fabricated story in his head, he was pretty sure he hated it.

Phil glanced up at Dan, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. For several seconds, the world was silent; it was just Dan biting his bottom lip, his eyes trained on the photo on Phil’s screen, and his face betraying absolutely no indication of what was going through his mind. Finally, his gaze flitted back up to Phil, his eyes clouded and unclear. “That I was drunk and cold and you were taking me back.”

Phil quirked an eyebrow, a million follow-up questions immediately badgering his mind — the same follow up questions that everyone would have. Where were they before? What had they been doing that got Dan drunk? Were other people with them? Was Phil drunk, too? Had this happened before? Were they going back to the same room? Was Dan this touchy with everyone when he was drunk, or was that just Phil?

Dan shrugged but didn’t avert his gaze. “That’s enough of an answer. If people want to assume that back meant to a shared room, fine. If they assume it’s to a different room in the same hotel, fine.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed noncommittally, just enough to show Dan he was listening.

Dan’s eyes shifted to the desk, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Phil had known Dan long enough to recognize his thinking face, so he waited, swallowing back all the questions he was tempted to ask. Finally, Dan continued, once again meeting Phil’s gaze, a spark of resolution in his eyes. “I don’t want to lie,” he said firmly. “But also, the past few days have been… a lot. Significant. I wanted to… let them stand alone. And my relationships — I’ve always tried to keep my personal life private, but I also haven’t exactly ever been forced to ever own up or deny them.”

Phil nodded slowly. “That’s fair,” he agreed, his words like molasses. He understood Dan’s points, he really did. He was so, so thrilled that Dan didn’t want to hide this relationship — a distinct change from the relationships Dan had described having with other boys (and most girls, for that matter). Nervously, Phil cocked his head. “And, hypothetically, what if I’m forced to confirm or deny?”

It was an entirely unnecessary question, really. Phil was planning to do a liveshow — the audience was always entirely separated from him, there was never a way for them to know for certain which questions Phil had and had not seen. Unless literally every single question was about Dan, Phil’s hand wouldn’t be forced.

But still… Phil wanted to know. He needed to know where Dan stood, where his mind was at right now. So Phil stared at Dan curiously, brow cocked and head tilted, until Dan finally responded.

Once again, Dan shrugged, but this time it wasn’t as… apathetic. This time, it was just… resigned, maybe? Phil couldn’t quite tell; he didn’t like not being able to read Dan’s body language.

“I’m not gonna dictate what you should and shouldn’t say to your audience,” Dan said, lips pursed. “If you feel backed into a corner, say whatever you want. I know you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Dan rubbed his hands over his face, nervous energy lacing the movement. He dropped his hands and looked back at Phil. “Like I said, I don’t wanna lie, but I also don’t wanna make you feel like you have to tell your audience anything in particular.”

“So just to be clear,” Phil started, a smile creeping onto his face and into his voice. “If — for some reason — I have to say yes or no, it’s okay if I say either?”

“Phil.” Dan’s voice was low and uncharacteristically sincere, his pupils blown wide, and his hand twitching like it was fighting back the urge to reach for Phil’s. “I’m having an amazing time with you and I’m...I’m in this... for the long haul,” Dan’s gaze flickered to the side, resting on his black notebook next to his leg. His words were slow and deliberate, like he was carefully selecting each one.

Phil couldn’t tune out the butterflies that were beating against his stomach, and could barely bite back an overly enthusiastic me too.

But Dan ploughed on before Phil could say anything, and maybe that was for the best. “I’m having trouble imagining a world where it’s not eventually completely obvious what you are to me, so...” Phil’s mind jumped to all the possible whys behind that statement; he couldn’t help it. Dan’s lyrics and album theme flashed through his mind, but so did Dan’s instagram posts and flirty tweets.

Dan’s eyes finally shifted back to Phil’s, determined, tenacious. “So I’d rather not lie,” Dan said, sure and confident. “If they know something for certain, I’d rather it be the truth. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of — of —”

Dan’s gaze dropped again, and Phil bit his lips, holding back a smile as he imagined what the rest of Dan’s sentence might be, what it might mean. Everything Dan had said today seemed half shared, just a small portion of what Dan seemed to want to say. Phil didn’t want to be overly presumptuous, to pretend he knew what Dan was thinking, but he felt confident in his guesses to the end of at least a few of Dan’s sentences.

Dan opened and closed his mouth, over and over, not speaking. Finally, he sighed, and Phil expected him to say something, anything, concrete — more because Dan was strong willed, and less because Phil couldn’t predict what he might be thinking. But instead, Dan rose up off the bed and headed for the bathroom, halting just before the door. Eyes trained on the floor, Dan muttered, “If you have to say something, say whatever you want — I trust you. I’d just prefer it to be the truth.

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #au #ly #mine #iminclinedtowriting #love yourself

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xiaolindude · 5 years ago

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As cartoons as simplifications of reality, they cannot show us every detail we may imagine! What are some features Raimundo has that you consider particularly salient, and is there anything about how your Raimundo looks that may deviate from the cartoons style you can imagine? (things like freckles, height, clothing style).

[ omg i am sO HERE TO DISCUSS RAI YOU HAVE NO IDEA

okay so first of all, i completely agree. cartoons are simplifications and also amplifications of reality. Character designers get to pick and choose which traits are gonna be exaggerated.

So Rai has a very very round head in the series - it’s a stylistic choice, and I choose to believe that he does have a round face. In fact, I think all his features are quite rounded - i don’t think he has a lot of sharp angles on him. Obviously not to the extent of the show, though! I also think he gets a bit of a jawline (and some facial hair) as he ages but his face always has a relatively soft/non-angular quality

His nose is actually quite small in the show, but then again, everyone’s noses seem pretty small so that’s probably another stylistic thing rather than a specific character choice. But the way I draw Rai is with a slightly bigger and more rounded nose. I just… like it? Idk. like when I picture him in my head, that’s what he looks like.

^ this is from a personal project that’s still ongoing but it kinda shows how i like to interpret his head and facial features! obviously it’s just a quick sketch and still a cartoon but it’s not quite as stylised as XS, so it gives a better idea what i think his actual features would look like irl

I can totally see him having freckles! He’s out in the sun aaaaall the time, after all. He’s basically solar powered. But I think, because he’s very tanned, they’d be hard to see - you’d have to get up close to him to notice the faint freckles across his nose and cheeks and shoulders.

He’s also shown to be somewhat tall. Clay is obviously the tallest but Rai seems to not be too far off. He’s about the same height as Jack. My personal headcanon is that he’s not super tall as an adult. I think he ends up average male height. Thought picturing a big lanky rai flying around the temple is kinda funny…

He’s muscular in the show (he’s shown to have strong shoulders, strong pecs and a damn 6 pack so like yh he’s strong and he Knows It), but he’s not beefy, ya know? clay is strong and it shows - he’s a Big Dude. but with rai, the muscle is kinda distributed, so he actually still looks kinda slim, in a way? he’s more of an athletic build. i feel like clay is stronger overall, but rai’s muscles are more well defined. Also I personally headcanon that rai has pretty broad shoulders, especially as an adult.

Interestingly, he and clay are both drawn without body hair. however, jack is shown to have chest hair and leg hair. So are clay and rai just naturally fairly hair-less? so far in their lives, at least? I haven’t thought much about this, tbh, but I can see rai’s body hair taking a while to kick in, and him being super impatient about it. After all, we’ve seen that he thinks facial hair is cool - when he’s daydreaming about being the best surfer, for example, he imagines himself with facial hair. I bet he can’t wait till he can grow it!

my rai loves hoodies. he just. loves them. he lives in hoodies. his wardrobe is very simple and he basically just lives in t-shirts and hoodies. I can’t see him liking jeans very much, as they’re quite restrictive and he’s a pretty active guy. He prefers shorts and loose pants with room to move

MY FAVOURITE THING ABOUT RAI: his eyebrows. i love his eyebrows. so. much. i love that they’re just big and dark and expressive idk??? to me, his eyebrows and his green as green eyes are his most standout features. I like it because not a lot of characters get to have Big Eyebrows. they’re usually just average/generic, well-plucked, or like overly-bushy (usually reserved for elderly characters). So it’s nice to have uniquely shaped and sized eyebrows on a younger dude. I take their shape and size in the show as pretty gospel for this reason, and just translate them onto whatever drawing i’m doing of him (see the above example)

i also think he has thick, dark eyelashes and very expressive eyes. he totally bats his eyelashes/does puppy eyes to get what he wants. it worked especially well when he was little because he was an adorable kid so that just added to it.

finally, for now, i wanna bring up his hair. it’s spiky and voluminous in the show and i completely agree with that! i know it’s quite popular in the fandom (or was, back in the day) to just assume he gels it, and i get why, but i personally don’t headcanon that. after all, his hair looks the same even after he’s just woken up! So I choose to believe that the spiky way it’s drawn is kinda more to represent that it’s pretty messy. I can see him having the softest, loveliest thick hair buuuuuutttt it’s a mess at the same time pffft.

so… yeah. those are my ‘non-cartoony details about rai’ hot takes off the top of my head! thanks for the question c: ]

#[ this is messy af bc i'm just thinking out loud and writing things down as they occur to me lmao ]#Anonymous #what’s the dealy? • ANSWERS.#*finger guns* yikes! • ABOUT.#how bad can it be? • HEADCANON.#long post cw #[ i did this instead of my essay and it was a Very Good Decision ]#long post

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petalsbloomed-a · 5 years ago

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VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY !! RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. stolen !!! TAGGING. anyone who wants to do this tbh cuz this is long as shit and i dont want anyone to do this who might not be able to aljdhfskjdhkj

BASICS. FULL NAME : galo thymos NICKNAME : himbo, idiot, rookie, newbie, #1 firefighting idiot AGE : 21 BIRTHDAY : june 30 ETHNIC GROUP : japanese (+ korean / western european) NATIONALITY : american LANGUAGE / S : english / japanese / studied french and spanish SEXUAL ORIENTATION : demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : single HOME TOWN / AREA : promeopolis (i envision this being around nyc / tri-state area) CURRENT HOME : lives with older sister and niece PROFESSION : firefighter, undergraduate student

PHYSICAL. SKIN : pretty fair tan, but he sometimes appears a little darker than usual. his skin does a strange thing where it changes shade in different lighting. his skin is usually smooth, but right after getting finished with work, he sometimes is covered in dust and appears somewhat dried out. EYES : slightly upturned, deep-set, wide and somewhat of an almond shape. irises are usually very round, and are a bluish-cyan color. pupils often alight with mischief. in intense lighting, you can see a little red dot reflecting off his eyes. LIPS : pretty thin and nude, hard to notice. matches his skin tone very well. usually quite smooth. tends to get chapped after working. COMPLEXION : pretty fair, but in different lighting, he can look a lot tanner than what he really is. BLEMISHES : he has a few moles here and there, but overall his skin is fairly clear and clean. he doesn’t suffer from acne nearly as much as he did when he was in grade school. SCARS : he has some tiny, barely noticeable acne scars on his face, chin, and neck. the most noticeable ones are on his left arm from when he was practically set alight by a burnish flame. these are thick and quote coarse, and can cause some discomfort when touched. he also has a very small nick in his left ear, which was how his sister identified him when he found her after being separated from their family after the burnish incident when he was a kid. TATTOOS : an arrow that goes right below the nape of his neck to the middle of his back. the point is at about the small of his back, and there are a few decorations along the arrow. HEIGHT : 6′0, 183 cm WEIGHT : 165 lbs, ~75 kg BUILD : very muscular, quite athletic. very beefy arms, strong chest, well-built abdominals. however, his thighs and waist are pretty thin and trim. FEATURES : his most distinct features are his dramatic haircut and scars on his left arm, as well as the small white line on the outer helix of his left ear. his chest and shoulders are also quite broad in comparison to his rather thin waist. ALLERGIES : slight peanut allergy, dust, pollen. USUAL HAIR STYLE : undercut with a dramatic, spiky blue mohawk. USUAL FACE LOOK : mischievous smile or smirk; sometimes looks a bit wistful, like he’s thinking about something. USUAL CLOTHING : is normally shirtless, wearing thick red firefighter pants with a yellow “3.” most often wears black rubber boots, black gloves, ear lobe piercings, and an industrial piercing. sometimes wears a black tee-shirt.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : spiders, bugs, needles, being in love (kind of), losing his sister or niece, finding out his parents are dead. ASPIRATION / S : to continue his firefighting career, to receive a masters in emergency medical technology / fire prevention & safety technology. POSITIVE TRAITS : brave, caring, friendly, modest. NEGATIVE TRAITS : daring, reckless, sensitive, over-attachment. MBTI : entertainer (ESFP-A) ZODIAC : cancer TEMPEREMENT : choleric / sanguine SOUL TYPE / S : performer ANIMALS : zebra VICE HABIT / S : twiddling thumbs, jiggling leg (usually the right), twirling & playing with hair, biting nails, chewing lips, swearing, sighing, pen clicking. FAITH : none; would consider himself agnostic. GHOSTS ? : yes. AFTERLIFE ? : not sure. REINCARNATION ? : not sure, but leaning towards no. ALIENS ? : yes. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : independent, opinions slightly more left-leaning EDUCATION LEVEL : graduate student

FAMILY. FATHER : nikanor thymos MOTHER : agape thymos SIBLINGS : danai thymos (older sister) EXTENDED FAMILY : james (ex-brother-in-law), aria (niece) NAME MEANING / S : his first name is of an unknown meaning, but it could mean “from gaul” in greek. his last name comes from the greek word “thumos”, which means “spiritedness” or “the need of recognition.” HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : not that we know of, i think ???

FAVORITES. BOOK : harry potter / hunger games MOVIE : the lion king 5 SONGS : rick astley - never gonna give you up, lady gaga - born this way, beyonce - countdown, ariana grande - god is a woman, pitbull - timber (feat. kesha) DEITY : zeus HOLIDAY : christmas MONTH : july SEASON : summer PLACE : his bedroom / the lounge at work WEATHER : partly cloudy SOUND : meditation sounds SCENT / S : coffee, flowers, fresh baked desserts, fresh pizza, light cologne TASTE / S : coffee, vanilla cake, milk chocolate, parmesan cheese, green tea anything tbh FEEL / S : soft blankets, comfy pillows, loose-fitting clothes ANIMAL / S : dogs NUMBER : 13 COLORS : teal blue / flame red

EXTRA. TALENTS : piano, singing, writing, linguistics, thinking quickly, firefighting BAD AT : drawing (sort of), getting himself organized, following orders (sometimes) TURN ONS : kindness, sensitivity, acceptance, openness, agreeableness TURN OFFS : irresponsibility, lack of free time, ignorance HOBBIES : piano, singing, writing (stories, poems, etc), karate TROPES : ambiguously gay, antiquated linguistics, broken tears, calling your attacks, the chosen one, firemen are hot, going commando, hunk, idiot hero, innocently insensitive, large ham, mr. fanservice, oblivious to love, the protagonist, rookie red ranger, scars are forever, shonen hair, you gotta have blue hair (found here, there’s a lot more actually) QUOTES : “medals are made to be awarded to and from people who deserve them.” / “you can’t just kill for no reason!” / “[i’m] the universe’s #1 firefighting idiot!”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : honestly??? i think i would keep it the way it is, BUT i would like to have seen some more canonical information about galo’s family. as of right now, we know that kray saved him after his family was attacked by the burnish. if i were to direct a new movie about galo, i would focus it mainly on his family. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : i think it would be a mix of melancholic music as well as more upbeat stuff. on my blog’s main page there are links in the sidebar to both a soundtrack playlist as well as a pop music playlist; i definitely think it’s fair that a variety of genres would suit him and his experiences. Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : when i first watched promare, i was instantly drawn to this buffoon himbo. i’ve always had a thing for upbeat, energetic characters who are also quite caring and a bit dumb (which yes galo is very smart but he has his moments). while their personalities differ greatly (despite having the same personality type), he reminds me a lot of lance from vld, who i absolutely adore as well (and i also rp him too oops) Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4 : again, probably his personality. while i’m not as energetic and upbeat as galo and i have a very, very different personality type than him, i feel like i definitely do understand him. i understand why he feels he needs to be overly confident, and i also have my moments where i just need to storm off and be alone. god i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about why i like galo but i wanna keep it short and sweet and just stick with those two points, which i consider to be the biggest points. Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : look, i know i said i liked confidence, but something about galo that annoys me is the fact that he can often seem too confident. like yeah he seemed pretty humble in that pizza scene at the beginning of the movie, but i can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance towards people who put themselves right into the center of attention and be all like “yeah i know i’m great.” like my boy i love you but do u have to announce urself every time u appear on the scene??? and pls stop being so reckless u honestly might die too soon one of these days we want u to be around for us to enjoy u Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : i definitely feel like we both have our moments where we just need some peace and quiet. of course, everyone needs this, but when galo talked about running off when he was pissed reminded me of me; i tend to go and cool off and vent to myself if i’m annoyed about something. we’re both naturally people-oriented and love to be around others, even though galo likes being the center of attention a little bit more than myself. Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : in the sense that if galo were real, i honestly think we would get along fairly well. we have different ways of dealing with things, but we have similar habits and personality traits. however when it comes to rp blogs, while i do like to headcanon things about my muses that mirror my own opinions and beliefs, i do consider the mun/muse relationship fairly symbiotic. we as real people can learn so much from fictional characters and in how we play them, and of course, the mun will determine some things about the muse that will deter from canon. Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : i just started this blog and have had very minimal interactions, so it’s hard to say ! i’d say that an interaction with a kray muse would be the most interesting. part of me wants galo to forgive kray and to have a better relationship with him post-movie canon, but there’s still so much about galo and kray’s relationship pre-movie as well; what was their relationship like? was kray like a father to galo? how can i describe the psychological mindset that galo had after finding out that kray betrayed him? there’s so much about these two that i really want to discover and look at, while of course providing my own insight (cuz that’s what muns do, right?). Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : i like to study galo’s actions in the movie, and try to find the underlying cause of the actions he takes. however, when it comes to headcanons, i will often think of a scene or an idea in my head and then internally apply it to galo and see if it works. this is usually what kindles my writing fire: the thoughts that often rush through my head. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : like two whole days lmao im so slow

#heart of fire and soul of passion. (headcanon)#noah rambles. (out of character)

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jojosthetic-boogaloo · 5 years ago

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@marysuepatrol says: Hi! I’m sending this in as a submission for length’s sake, don’t want to annoy you by sending in a ton of asks! Anyways, if it’s not too much to ask, may I please get a moodboard matchup from parts 1-5? (they’re so pretty omfg)

I’m a bi 5'2 Asian girl, and I’m an ENTP. I love taking care of plants and cats, along with most other animals! I’m a pretty bold person with something of a sense of justice, and I’m never afraid to speak up against stuff I don’t agree with. I have some trust issues due to a formerly emotionally abusive relationship, mostly relationship-wise and not friendship wise. I’m pretty witty, and I’m a huge believer in fate and supernatural stuff, like fortune telling and the occult. I like reading, drawing and writing! I find world culture very fascinating, especially the languages and music, and I’d love to travel the world one day! I love learning new things, and I really like going to libraries (especially older ones!) on a nice afternoon, especially with my s/o! Usually, I’m pretty laid back and a friendly person in general. I like to tell jokes/bad puns with people I’m really close to, and I love giving to people/helping them out! With a s/o, I’m more attracted to smart people and people who have more life experience than me tbh, since I’d also want someone who can guide me in a relationship!

That was sorta long, but thank you so much!! Please take your time on these matchups, I know they take a while sometimes but you’re doing great! <3

Hi Mary sweetheart!!! I’ll smooch your entire face you’re adorable as heck sashdhf <3 Now before I get rambly and spend this entire matchup just saying how much i love you and thank you, let’s get to the juice.

Your matchup! You do realize that you’re giving me here a type that I could not pass over, right? The moment I got midway your request I knew exactly who to match you up with. When I finished reading, I also decided to add in a small brochup, for the sake of being soft. So, here ya go! Double the jojo double the fun!

Translation: “It must have been fate, but I’m thankful we met, bella.”

Risotto Nero!

You met because Risotto had to leave the office for something to snack on since the gang had eaten almost everything there was in there. He was terribly hungry, terribly tired and terribly irritated, but he still kept his usual neutral expression.

As he walks, he makes his way to the nearest convenience store, that currently has a construction team working on a platform to fix the building right next to it. When he’d crossed below the platform, you happened to be about to enter the store too, looking at him from a distance due to his peculiar appearance and telling him with a raised eyebrow and half a smile in a friendly tone “That’ll be bad luck for ya, sir.”. He finds your remark amusing and retorts with “I could be back luck for them, miss.” You laughed it off as a casual tough guy comeback, though, you did not know he was serious about it.

Since he barely ever makes the effort to speak to others, he decides to let the conversation be done with as soon as you both enter the store, each making your way and giving a small departing nod to each other as you leave for different aisles.

After a while walking though the aisles and grabbing your items, you notice a common thought cross your mind. “I haven’t crossed him once yet.” And it slightly saddened you. You thought of this as a simple after effect reaction to having interacted with a handsome (and kinda scary) man that gave you three seconds of his day and exchanged some words with you. It had been a notable experience in your day and your brain was just giving it some spotlight, no big deal.

To your pleasant surprise, you notice him step before you into one of the checkup lines, and decide to go to the same one just to try and get the chance to even say a simple goodbye after checkup. When it’s his time to pay, you hear him let out a confused and quite irritated “hah?” for he did not find neither money nor his credit card in his wallet. Formaggio must had taken it without permission; again. All for his stupid gambling habits.

As he clenched his perfectly sharp and strong jaw (you couldn’t help but note this, the man was quite a sight), not knowing how to react; you stepped in tapping him on the back, smiling at him confidently when he turned and announcing to the cashier you’d pay for his items. He was only purchasing a beer and some chips, what harm could it do to your wallet.

He’s indebted to you now, Risotto instantly thought. That’s how it worked in his mind. If he ever gets something from someone, it must not be left as a good action, there has to be some interest behind it. Yet, when he could not pinpoint the reason you’d want him to pay you back for anything, he simply decided on paying it back to you because you seemed just genuinely nice and not mean spirited in the slightest. Just a regular, nice civilian.

He offers to invite you to some coffee next time you meet as thanks and offers you his number, which you take in gleefully. You didn’t even have to ask and you got this hell of a man’s phone number? Today was worthy of being noted in your calendar. After exchanging numbers, he gives you a nod and the slightest, smallest hint of a cordial smile and leaves his own way, leaving you wondering if you’d just seen the slight hint of a dimple form on his overall solemn looking face.

You sent him a text informing him it’s you, the convenience store girl. He replies with a “Ok” which throws you a bit off balance. He can’t help it, he’s bad with words and even worse with texts. “Is your schedule open on Friday afternoon?” He follows up, making you smile due to his unnecessary formal tone. “For coffee, I mean.” He quickly adds, which makes you giggle. He’s endearingly awkward and stupidly formal, that was interesting, you were curious.

When you meet for coffee that wonderfully awaited Friday, you almost fall off the chair when you see him dressed in what, usually, you’d call casual clothes (because let’s be honest, what he wore to the convenience store made him look like a bdsm gester, not that you minded though). The perfect fit of his V neck white shirt and the lack of his hat made you swallow, quickly composing yourself and placing your hands on your lap under the table. “Hi, you look…” He started, seemingly struggling to find his words as he slid the chair back and sat before you. “Positively beautiful, Y/N.” You felt a knot in your throat when this handsome, intense looking man told you that, giving him a nervous giggle and a smile, looking him in the eye after much effort and adding an almost too quiet. “You too, Risotto.”

He’s the silent listener type, he nods at your statements and gives you the occasional “yes” or “mhm”. You did not expect him to actually end up asking after you mentioned you liked books. “What type of books?” He asked, a curious, most endearing smile on his face while he stirred his coffee in the big black mug he’d ordered. You took a sip off yours and after organizing your thoughts, you told him. When you mentioned you’d love to go to an old library to spend the afternoon, he immediately told you he’d be glad to join you. What a shame he didn’t let you finish the sentence with a “-with my future significant other, that’d be a wonderful date.” You didn’t dare utter those words now, having a rotund “yes” already from the man.

You go to a fancy, old Italian library next weekend (after admittedly sneaking out of the office and leaving Prosciutto in charge for the afternoon). He tells you about his favorite reads, recommending you some books while you quietly admire him from the side and give him the occasional nod and smile when he catches up on you being silent for longer than expected, fearing you’d grown bored of his rambling.

As the afternoon goes by, you stop by at the romantic-drama aisle. The big round glass windows letting the golden hour sun sip through and clash against his herculean features, which you couldn’t help but stare at. Seeing him standing there, the way he calmly stood there with such a mature look in his face whilst skimming through a book he’d surely have read before already… it was silly, but it made your heart thump gingerly on your chest.

He catches you staring, scoffing quite embarrassed thinking its because you think he’s weird looking. After clearing his throat and placing the book back in the bookcase, he turns to you and gives you an intense stare whilst crossing his arms over his chest. Oh god, he was well trained as well. Just by looking at his biceps you felt he’d be able to snap you in half without any problem if he so desired to.

“Yes, I do know I look scary, but I’ve no intention to harm-” you cut him off with something he did not expect to hear. “No, Nero, I just think you’re someone I could look at for hours and never get tired.” You blurted out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and looking down when you thought back on what you’d just told him.

Before you could apologize, you rose your gaze and noticed he’d just taken his eyes off you and cast them back to the books on his side, the slightest shade of red decorating his cheeks now as he visibly bit the inside of his cheek, clueless on how to react properly to your remark. Sure, he had the emotional intelligence and the self awareness of a log, but even he knew that wasn’t meant as a casual compliment.

“…Anyways, I think you’d like this one.” He kept going, as if nothing happened, which made you smile tenderly at him. You gave him a nod and kept browsing books with him until it got dark. He silently assigned himself to escort you back home, with his hands on his pockets while you occasionally commented on the weather or on the books you’d taken notes off that he mentioned.

One day, you met up to chat about a book he’d lent you, his favorite. You mentioned you liked it, but that you’d like to try something that dealt with more obscure themes, like the occult or the supernatural. He gave you an amused smile, thinking of your taste as interesting and kind of cute. He lent you the perfect book for your request, which you read in record time and spammed his text messages with commentary about it’s ending almost immediately, amusing him through his sleepless working night. Honestly, late working nights had taken a different turn ever since he’d met you, with your occasional messages and even more rare calls. He worried if you got enough sleep, but still, greatly appreciated your figurative company.

One of those late night messaging sessions, you decided to take your relationship a small step forward, aside from talking about books and going for coffee or to the library, you wanted to share a meaningful experience with him. And you’d just gotten a perfect Ad for the situation on your social media.

“Riz, u up?” You began, smiling mischievously for you knew he’d look at his phone with a raised eyebrow when he read your text. “Did you just shorten my name to address me?” He replied, almost immediately, which caught you a bit off guard. It was 2 am after all. “Yes, ur up. Anyways, could you come with me tmrrow to a special event? I really want to go, but none of my friends are interested and I really need someone I can trust to go with” He’d seen it, he stayed in the chat, but he took slightly longer to reply than usual, he was surely thinking about what you meant with “special event”. “…” He started, earning a quiet victory gesture from you on your end. “You trust me?” Your face fell into a pout. How did just three words from him make you feel so bad all of a sudden? You felt like giving him a hug honestly, but sadly, your relationship hadn’t gotten so far, yet. “I think I established that, yes.” You typed down, and after three painful minutes of wait, he came back with a quick, simple answer. “Hour and location, I’ll be there.” After a short pause, he followed the message up with another. “But, if I may ask, what is the event about?” You smiled, feeling your heartbeat chirp away in your chest upon such a quick, assertive and formal response. “A fortune teller is in town and I really want to get my future read.” You almost added “with you”, but refrained. Quickly beaming a bright smile at your phone at his reply. “Alright, sounds good.”

At the reading, the fortune teller tells you she sees a tall, handsome man coming into your life in an unexpected turn of events and invading your mind with thoughts of him. Eventually invading your heart as well. She gives a side glance to Risotto and then back to you, then back to the cards. “Maybe this has already happened or is about to.”

You shift in your seat awkwardly and let out a nervous laugh. “Is there anything else about it?” The lady looks back down once more and flips the three remaining cards, a wide smile on her lips as she gives you both a nod. “I see wealth, happiness and great amounts of love in this reading. You’ll enjoy your lover’s input in your life greatly, long-term. Here, it shows just how intensely they care and nurture you with their knowledge and feelings.” Risotto was looking intently at the fortune teller, and you did not know how to react to this, placing your hands tightly in fists on your lap. “That’s wonderful… Thank you miss, now we better be-” She cuts you off and points at Risotto. “I believe I’ve got a reading for this man too, don’t worry, for the price of only your reading.”

You sit back down, patting your thighs nervously while the woman mixes the tarot cards once more. Risotto chooses his cards and the woman begins flipping them. “I see you’re a man who’s suffered a great deal, this is what your past tells me. Immense amounts of pain, of loss and of uncertainty. You did in fact feel a sense of emptiness and unfullfillment in you, until recently.” She stopped. A knowing smile on her face when she flipped the present cards. “Your present tells me there’s been a femenine figure in your life that has completely bewitched you. She’s managed to carve her presence into your heart and you let her do it willingly. Could it be an innocent crush? Or maybe it’s something deeper?” After hoovering her hands over the cards and closing her eyes for a moment, she clicked her tongue with a mischievous smile on her face. “Yes, you’re completely enthralled. You even often dream about this woman, and it’s not always as innocently as you present it in your heart to be.”

Risotto coughs and looks to the side, you notice he’s nervously playing with his fingers, then he looks back at the woman. Flipping his last cards, she chuckles and claps her hands. “This is a wonderful future ahead of you mister! Nothing but a bright light that you so desperately needed in your life is what occupies your future reading.” She paused, caressing one of the cards with her finger and nodding. “I see a determining turn in your feelings, taking a solid form somewhere soon. During some type of trip maybe? Is it just a date? Or is it you’re going somewhere together?” She questioned for herself, then looked back at you both. “At any rate, I’m very happy for you both.”

You shook your head while waving your hands in front of her, dismissive. “No! It’s not like that! We’re just… friends.” You felt hurt just by uttering the word. And, by what you saw out of the corner of your eye, so was Risotto, who looked at you and back at the fortune teller with a rare, saddened and tense look on his face. “I…” he started, swallowing before getting up from his seat and giving the fortune teller a nod and her money. “I do hope your readings are correct, miss.” He finished in a quiet tone, turning around without looking at you with a slight blush on his cheeks.

Before he exited the room, the lady spoke once more, shuffling the cards back into the deck once more. “You really do feel for the woman in question, do you not, child?” He stopped in his tracks, not turning around and looking down on the floor. After what felt like forever for you, and feeling your heartbeat on your throat, you heard him mutter. “I do.” Then he left. Why was he so dramatic?!

You were about to run after him when the lady directed her speech to you once more. “Miss.” She started, tucking the deck back into a very pretty, fancy looking box. “Cherish him, he’s damaged goods and I get a hunch you are too. He’s risking breaking again just to get to you.”

You gave her an enthusiastic nod and a smile as you ran out to chase after him. “I will, thanks!” You replied after crossing the curtain and stepping outside once more, noticing the subject of your affection standing quite noticeably (why is he so tall??) next to the bus stop’s post, letting the bus leave without him. He was waiting for you even though his embarrassment.

“Riz!” You exclaimed, waving your hand at him and smiling awkwardly as you walked close to him, ending up almost touching his arm with yours when you caught up. He gave you a small smile, and this time you did notice the dimple that formed on his face. Not helping it, you giggled and pointed it out. “You get dimples when you smile, that’s an adorable contrast to your serious look.” He coughed whilst covering his mouth with his fist and pretended to look at the timetable once more. “Don’t say that.” He muttered, and you felt your lips turn down into a confused pout. “Why not?”

He turned to look at you, raising his arm and hoovering his index and middle finger over your lips, not touching but almost, feeling the warmth from them seep into your lower lip. “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it as well next time. And I want to keep being your…” He dragged off, letting the sentence die down in his throat as he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, thinking about something and noticing how his mouth curved slightly down.

You slowly rose your hand and grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand and letting it rest flat on your cheek instead, tilting your head and nuzzling into the touch of his hand. “Riz.” You prodded him, giving him a gentle smile. You swallowed trying to disguise the huge ball of nerves you were right there, with his hand on your face as you’d dreamed all those late nights where you texted and wanted to have him there instead. After a deep breath, you closed your eyes and gave the hand on your face a gentle press against it. “I’m in love with you, I think.” You finally confessed.

Not having the time to even open your eyes, you felt your body lift off the ground, being prompted into strong arms and instinctively wrapping your arms into this person’s neck. As you were being held bridal style in the most stupidly romantic scenario, the sunset bathing both your figures and the delightful summer breeze blowing away your worries, you felt a pair of plump lips press against yours, gently, clearly filled with sentiment but still keeping the sensation as sweet.

You stared at him through half lidded eyes and finally, kissed him back, which earned a pleased grunt on his part and a small tug on your bottom lip. Then he broke off the kiss, seemingly coming back to his senses. Quickly, he dropped you off (careful not to hurt you and placing you with practiced gentleness on the ground), his expression apologetic and extremely distressed, not knowing where to place his hands.

“Y/N I’m, I’m so immensely sorry, I didn’t mean to- Well I did but I didn’t- I don’t know if I should-” He was stuttering, he didn’t know what to say and was sincerely panicking over the simple thought of you not ever wanting to see him again, or worse, you disliking him. You gave him a small smile, pressing two fingers to your lower lip whilst relishing the sensation to yourself. When you looked back at him, he seemed to be weirdly quiet, staring at your gesture, confused. “Risotto.” You began, tentatively stretching your arm and gently touching his hand with yours with the purpose of holding his in yours. When you did, you felt him take a sharp breath in, looking at you, expectant. “…Then does this mean it was okay to-” He got cut off by himself when he shut his mouth tight after seeing you rise his hand in yours to your lips and giving it a loving kiss.

“Risotto, please do that as many more times as you’d like. I loved it.”

The man was over the moon, prompting you into his arms once more, this time holding you by your hips and placing another tender kiss on you, a small triumphant smile lingering on his lips.

When dating, he’d love to laze around his or your place on a couch or in bed, watching horror movies or having you rest on his lap while you let him play with your hair and hum a soft tune. He’ll only do this when you’re alone though, he won’t appear so vulnerable and soft in front of anyone else.

For your birthday, expect him to always gift you the same things. A new tiny plant, a book of his choice and an item that caters to your obscure tastes. Will it be a tarot deck, a creepy doll, an amulet this time? Who knows, only Nero knows.

He knows you love cats, so eventually, he’ll surprise you with a cute big box on Christmas, when you open it, you did not expect the tiniest, cutest kitten to be inside of it. As soon as it saw you both and meowed, you threw yourself into Risotto’s arms and showered him in kisses, which he couldn’t help but chuckle about and hold you tight so you wouldn’t fall from your monkey hug.

“See? I got her a tabby, so you can’t joke about it being bad luck.”

You just love so much this man what did you do to deserve him.

He actually really likes to cook when he’s got the time to! So get ready for nice fancy dinner nights when you get to meet after work or on weekends!

He’s surprisingly really cuddly once you’re behind closed doors, and, well, if you suggest it, a little bit more than cuddly too.

When one summer he comes back home announcing he got a slight raise in his pay, you can’t do anything but jump from the sofa and run at him for a hug, which he takes advantage of and sweeps you off your feet, giving you a welcome kiss instead and, once you’re back down in the floor, he takes an envelope from his back pocket and gives it to you. The amount of love and pampering the Italian got that night was memorable when you noticed the contents of the envelope were plane tickets to that place you always so dearly wanted to visit.

He’ll read to you in a quiet, murmuring voice when you can’t sleep at night, having you rest against his chest or his side as he lets his reading glasses rest on the tip of his nose, which you laugh about sometimes, but he shushes you with a kiss on your forehead or the tip of your nose telling you to “quiet down and hurry sleep”.

He won’t get your bad puns at first, he’s dense like that. But, eventually, you’ll hear him let out bad puns as well when you’re at home, or whispered into your ear as you wait in line in public. You’d let out a pun and he’d look you dead into your eyes and after cracking half a smile he’ll reply with “That, wasn’t very punny of you, my dear.” Please laugh he looks so happy with his progress he’s aching for your bad pun validation.

Bruno Buccellati!

Bruno just really likes how you have this kind, easygoing nature to yourself, yet never quiet down if you want to speak out about something. Strong and kind, he thought of you very highly!

He does feel quite the scare when you mention your rather unconventional likings, but he can’t help but listen with a tender expression on his face. He can’t help it! You look so happy talking about it he just feels bound to listening.

Bruno will be very nurturing towards you. He’ll surprise you with gifts now and then. Need new art supplies? He’s got you. New books to read? He’ll take you shopping for one. Just need a hug and someone to talk with? He’ll be at your door in negative seconds.

He gives you very good advise with your plants! He didn’t look it, but he’d read enough books about tending to plants to know his stuff when he told you.

He really likes cuddles, he lives for it. Be it after a long day at work, after an entire day in the house, a date day, even out in public, he won’t mind the stares and he’ll hold you close into a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head.

Will absolutely never let you eat takeout if his life depends on it. You either eat his home-cooking or yours, but if you do anything else, perish. (Not perish, he’d rather die for you instead but like, you get it.)

Sometimes you’ll help him out with his work by sitting next to him on his desk, and he’ll thank you with a smile, a sweet kiss and a promise of a nice dinner date. He’ll do the same for you when he’s free from his work! Though he’ll be the one to thank you for letting him help you, sitting you on his lap and spending the rest of the day into each other’s arms.

Brochup: Prosciutto!

Being his boss’s significant other, he’s bound to interact with you more often than usual. Be it him bringing you flowers or breakfast at his boss’s request or just dropping by to take some papers from the apartment, Prosciutto had gradually opened up to you. Even so much as sometimes excusing himself with a false “Risotto told me to fetch something” and spend some time at your place, sitting on the sofa with you while he rambles about his tedious work and you offer him some snacks as consolation.

He really likes you, he finds you sincere, strong and posed. He admires that on a person, and is very happy his superior had found such a partner for himself. Even sometimes, he found himself wondering what it would be like if he were the one in a relationship like yours. He held your relationship as his ideal in the romantic spectrum.

Though not a big fan of occultism, he could get behind you liking supernatural stuff. He even mentioned once he enjoyed reading about cryptid creatures online on his spare time, it was interesting, for him at least.

You opened a whole new world to him; writing. He’d never in his life had written anything for pleasure. And there you were, telling him he could write down anything he thought about into a document on his laptop or a notebook and it would be wonderful. Not long after, he’d bring you his drafts for you to read through. You noticed he had a liking for writing poetry and short descriptive stories about his surroundings, experiences and feelings. You realized he was a very deep person, and when you pointed it out, he blushed and snatched the text from you, muttering an embarrassed “thank you”. He wasn’t good with compliments.

#prosciutto #risotto nero #bruno buccellati #moodboard matchup #matchup #matchup request #jojosthetic-boogaloo #marysuepatrol #submission #jjba #vento aureo

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