#I would rather have no belt details than ugly belt details
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vere cosplay progress:)
#touchstarved#touchstarved game#vere#personal#cosplay#OK SO#The belt buckles I've made look horrendous so they might not make the cut for wearing it at the con.#I would rather have no belt details than ugly belt details#I may do a poll later to see if u think it looks better with or without#the second belt with the metal triangle on his exposed leg also looks ugly#but that one is easier to possibly resolve#his metal leg bands are in the works#but it's def wearable for the con#u can't see but I put on all the makeup too-just didn't put in the contacts or lashes bc I was tired lol#btw ITS SO HARD TO GET THESE ARM BANDS ON WITH THE GLOVES AND WVERYRGUNG ARGH#if u want patterns or consultation (if ur trying to make it) dm me and I'll share whatever I have:>#which I have learned a LOT of practical info that would help someone coming along after me haha
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ą¹ 2023 KINKTOBER | MINORS DNI. ą¹
āļ½”Ā°ā© details. will be posting a total of (almost) 13 fanfics throughout the weeks of october with one bonus/special piece. Iāll only be writing the main c/w here, once you get to the actual post youāll get the whole c/w list so make sure to read that as well. Some works would be highly suggestive & wonāt be suitable for some. read at your own discretion.
āļ½”Ā°ā© notice. please be aware that i might not be able to finish every single piece by time but letās hope that doesnāt happen. </3 main note is under the cut.
āļ½”Ā°ā© taglist. fill this up if youāre tynaā get tagged whenever iām about to post a piece from this masterlist. scroll to the end if you only wanna be tagged in specific ones/pieces. must be 18+ to get tagged!
ą¹ THE FOLLOWING CONTENT YOUāRE ABOUT TO VIEW INCLUDES EXTREME DARK CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE.ą¹
ą¹ PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. ą¹
NOTE: AAA HI GUYS!!! this yearās kinktober is going to be a bit different than last yearās kinktober, last time i did a āone kink + characterā this year is going to be fully dark content fics with more than one kink, iāll try & finish & post all of them right on time since i kinda gave up on last yearās kinktoberāiām hoping iāll manage to post every single fic for this oneāanyways!! i hope you guys like it!! (ą¹ā¢Ģ į ąøĢą¹)
DARK CONTENT WARNING. PLEASE, READ THE TAGS UNDER EVERY LINK.
MET HER ON THE INTERNET. ā Eren Jaeger.
c/w: noncon ā> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.
HEROiN CHEERLEADER ā Gojo satoru.
synopsis: You were like an addictive drug to satoru, he couldnāt get enough of you. Always coming back for more, that was until you told him that you had enough ā that you two should stop messing around. You wanted to focus more on your cheerleading career while gojo satoru was furious with your sudden decision, he knew the whole āfocusing on cheerleadingā thing is a lie when he saw how swayed you were with the new captain of your cheerleading team. He wonāt leave you alone until you willingly come back to him, you got him addicted to your taste so thatās all your fault.
c/w: college au, dubcon, voyeurism, male masturbation, jealous! satoru, degrading (like lots of it), satoru blames you for everything, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, creampie.
PACKRUNNER BiTCH. ā Ran Haitian.
synopsis: You were in it for the money. Why would you waste all your young years dating a thirty year old man? Letās be serious here, you still have so much to do with your life rather than wasting it on an old guy but you need the money. But dating an old man just for money wasnāt that worth it either, thatās why the man you chose to use was a gang member ā heās old but is a part of an incredibly famous gang in your city. You knew he had more than money and that was; drugs. You were in it for the drugs & money! This whole acting in-love thing was fun until you were found out. Do you think Ran Haitian will forgive you for using him? Heās much more arrogant than that.
c/w: age gap (reader is 22 ran is 36), spanking (he uses his hands and a belt), choking, throat fucking, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, multiple (when i say multiple I mean many, numerous) creampies.
UGLY MAN? FUN PLAN! ā Toji Fushiguro
synopsis: you found toji fushiguro ugly, heās not your type and youād rather die than date a guy like him. On the other hand toji found you gorgeous, it was love at first sight, he fell so hard for you heās willing to do anything for your love. Toji confessed to you many times and they all ended up with heart breaking rejections. Toji is willing to try one more time and if you reject him again then thatās also alright, he has a nice plan in mind to (forcefully) make you his.
c/w: noncon, babytrapping, forced breeder! toji :<, slapping, sloppy makeoutās, lots of degrading, choking, low-key manipulative! Toji.
WEBGHOST ā RintarÅ Suna
synopsis: You stumbled across an abandoned hospital and decided to go explore it, alone. You were a huge fan of horror movies & loved the āexploring haunted placesā concept, itās nerve-racking because you never knew what to expect. Once you stepped foot into the old hospital, you felt a chill run past your spin. You hoped that you may run into blood-curdling stuff so you could have something to talk about for the next week or so ā but you didnāt expect to run into an actual ghost. And it didnāt seem to want to leave you alone either.
c/w: ghost! suna (donāt ask how cause idk either), mentions of blood, spectrophilia, you feel it but you canāt see suna, hair pulling, creampie.
EViL NiGHT, LOVELY NiGHT! ā Jean Kirstein.
synopsis: An infamous burglar lives in your city, he somehow managed to break into 120 homes in total and still didnāt get caught, he was known for stealing valuable objectsāif he broke into your house and found nothing worth stealing then heās going to flee and find another home to rob. He never restores to violence unless the house-victim tries anything against him, heād immediately pull out his gun and shoot. Everyone was advised to keep their doors locked until they eventually catch the burglar. And tonight was no different, double checking that you had both your doors and windows locked before heading to sleep.
c/w: non con, coercion, somno, slight degrading, gun-fucking, facial, slapping, bondage, creampie per usual.
GRAVE ROBBERY. ā GetÅ Suguru & Gojo satoru.
synopsis: You couldnāt escape them. From middle school to highschool and all the way to college. They were there. Following you everywhere, wherever you wentāthose two were always there, they made sure they were always there. You havenāt escaped their bullying and harassment for the past 9 years, gaining both enjoyment & entertainment by your reactions to their heinous acts towards you. Both Gojo satoru and GetÅ suguru loved you despite their horrible treatment towards you, they loved you.
c/w: bully! suguru bully! satoru, noncon, blackmailing, non con recording, hair pulling, threesomes, ass + pussy slapping, clit stimulation, dacryphilia, blowjob, handjob, facial, creampie.
TU4N Y<3R PH0N3 0F5 ā Sanzu Haruchiyo.
synopsis: the feeling of someone watching your every move never left you, feeling as if there were eyes on you all the time. To the point you were uncomfortable to do almost everything. Eating? Sleeping? Changing? You couldnāt do anything without feeling two eyes inspecting your every move.
c/w: stalking, noncon, hints of misogyny, semi-public sex, forced/noncon breeding, slapping, virginity loss, mentions of blood and impregnation.
RUSSIAN ROULETTE. ā ft. Yuushi Totsumoto.
from lady k and the sick man.
synopsis: Yuushi took you in causeā you had nowhere else to go. youāve been living with him for almost two years now and he barely knows anything about you. Not only that but he almost never heard you speak, he was okay with it at the beginning. Thinking you were just a little shy. But itās been two years and he never heard your voice properlyāthere were a few occasions when yuushi could hear you speak but those would be barely audible mutters.
c/w: voice kink (auralism?), pervert! yuushi, peeping, breeding kink, cunnilingus, ear licking, size kink, man handling, squirting, overstimulation, creampie per usual.
WiTCHBLADES. ā CHILDE/TARTAGLIA.
synopsis: (this takes place after the fontaine archon quest), childe who ended up thrown into jail because that god awful machine decided that he was guilty. And you, you ended up being his jail mate. You wanted nothing to do with childe but heās a literal chatter box, he never shuts up. Finally, you snap back at him, scolding him and telling you guys are literally in a jail cell right now. Childe didnāt like that attitude of yours so he decided to fuck some manners into you.
c/w: noncon, forced breeder! childe, lots of misogyny, ass + pussy slapping, no prep, size kink, dacryphilia.
F0UR L3AF CL0V3R. ā Aoi Todo.
synopsis: your boyfriend was either in his room playing games 24/7, at the gym, or sleeping. Never giving you proper attention until you grew desperate so whatās better than teasing him? until he gives you the attention youāre looking for. <3
c/w: read has big titsš, dubcon just in case, kinda modern au?, gamer! todo, lots of teasing, boobjob, face fucking/blowjob, possessiveness, size kink, manhandling, pervert! todo, panty sniffing, sumata (āA Japanese sexual term in which the female rubs her labia majora against the male's penis, without actual penetration.ā), facial, cum swallowing.
āļ½”Ā°ā© ššššššš/ššššš:
DEVIL ON MY BACK./ REPENT. ā GetÅ Suguru.
synopsis: After watching a movie about the so-called game; Ouija board, with your friend Anna, You couldnāt help but grow more curious about it. After purchasing the game, you ran to your basement to try out; the first thing you tried to communicate with was the infamous devil; GetÅ suguru.
c/w: religious themes, ouija board, non con ā dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, pussy + ass slapping, anal play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, v light somnophilia, manipulation, multiple creampies, non con creampie, lowkey monster fucking??, suguru has two dicks, face fucking, cum swallowing, guilt tripping kinda, very aggressive suguru, he is mentioned to have red eyes.
Ā© ILYGETOU 2021-ā23. All rights reserved. DO NOT steal, translate, or modify any of my works <3
#jjk smut#gojo satoru smut#getou x reader#haikyuu smut#suna smut#genshin smut#jjk x reader#tokyo rev smut#sanzu x reader#childe smut#aot x reader#aot smut#ilygetouās kinktober ā#eren smut#tokyo rev x reader
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Thoughts on the show Wiccan costume? The cape, the boots and the belt are quite nice I think, but the actual suit and the tiara feel overdesigned and quite ugly tbh.
I wasn't impressed when I saw it in the show, but after getting a better look at some behind-the-scenes footage, I do appreciate the attention to detail, and I think it's a more thoughtful design than any of Agatha or Wanda's final "witch" costumes.
They did this thing that I actually think is pretty cool, where each element of the Wiccan suit corresponds to part of Billy's original outfit, as if it was transformed from what he was already wearing. Rather than being an arbitrary superhero costume, it feels like the suit evolved organically as his powers fully manifest, with a lot of personal details intact. The sweater becomes these long sleeves that end in fingerless gloves, the sling he was using to carry his notebook becomes the belt and harness, and all of the little handmade embroidery details become the patterns and textures.
I really do think it's a clever idea, but it kind of falls flat, since we never actually get to see that transformation. Every time Billy changes in and out of this costume-- and when he briefly manifests the headpiece in episode 5-- it happens kind of randomly off-screen. And when he is wearing it, the details are difficult to make out because the lighting is so dark during that fight scene.
Overall, I think this costume does a good job of staying very close to the comic book suit, while incorporating elements that give it a more realistic structure and an overall witchier aesthetic, which I think is good for the character in general, and obviously makes sense for this adaptation. The fingerless gloves and metal rings-- which also have really nice detailing-- also feel like callbacks to the original Young Avengers (2005) costume, which is a nice touch. I don't quite understand what the shoulder strap is doing, though, and the piping and rune details do look kinda plasticky up-close. I also don't love the printing on the cape-- it's meant to mimic textiles from both Wanda and Vision's previous costumes, which is a nice idea, but I just don't think it looks good.
There are a few other things I'd change, if it were up to me. The little shoulder pads don't make sense here-- they're obviously meant to mimic the lines of Billy's suit in Young Avengers, but this is a different type of garment, and they look awkward tacked onto the sweater sleeeves. There are also these wierd hip flaps that hang slightly over the belt, which I assume are meant to conceal the suit's closure somehow. I'm biased against body suits-- I never understand why magic characters wear them-- but I think this look would have make more sense as a separate top and bottom.
As for the headpiece... I hate it. I will never understand why Wanda, and now Billy, have these overwrought, super plasticky headpieces that obviously look like they were made in a 3D printer. The designer said that Billy's was meant to evoke rippling water or damascus steel, but... it really just looks gross to me. They really would have done better to take cues from real-world filigree patterns, or the type of diadems you see elves wearing in fantasy films. It's also very clear they couldn't figure out a flattering fit or placement, or even how to make it stay on without a wig to hide the strap. I'm not sure how I feel about the color, but I think using silver would have looked less cheap.
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Ranking Alucard's Designs, Best to Worst
I've had a rough day and feel like being mean. These are just my opinions. Some rules:
Iām not counting each game a character appears in unless the design is noticeably different. I donāt count different art styles as a different design. Iām not counting the mobile game skins with two exceptions. For the most part itās just him but purple. However, for your pleasure, joker Alucard:
Symphony of the Night
No surprise. Itās his most iconic design. Heās gorgeous. I enjoy how he wears a mixture of human clothes (the jacket) and more stereotypical vampire clothing like the cape. Same with warm colors with black and silver.
2. Grimoire of Souls
I love this design. I kiss it every night before I go to bed. I pray to it on Sundays. His waist makes me go feral. The only thing that bothers me is the brown lining. I wish they did something like the inside of his SotN jacket.
3. Moonlight Rhapsody ā Outfit 3
I know absolutely nothing about this game. However, I love this skin. In my head when I imagine Alucard pre-Dracula betrayal this is it. The collar is a bit silly but I can look past it. I love the sleeves. The only critique I have is the brown and weāll get to my feeling on Alucard wearing brown. But on this outfit, itās not too bad.
4. Nocturne
They gave him his gay little neck ruffle back nature is healing. I wish they kept the details on the coat, but Iāll happily take the trade. I like his face.
5. The cancelled Draculaās Curse movie concept art
I need to know what the context behind this would have been. The skirt, the pauldrons, his bloody hands, HIS HAIR PUSHED BACK. The only thing I dislike is his black nipple.
6. Aria and Dawn of Sorrow
I like the suit. The red pocket square is nice. I think it is a really interesting choice for it to be red rather than yellow as a callback. I love the choice to make him resemble Dracula pre-vampirism. All of his color has been drained and replaced with black and red. I go back and forth on if I hate or like (for symbolic reasons) his tie-neck ruffle thing. But none of that is my real problem with the design. His shoes are hideous. The heel is good. Ā He deserves a little heel. But what is going on with the white. It's ugly and going to be a bitch to keep clean. His slacks are too long. Heās a government agent, he can afford to go to a tailor.
7. Season 1 & 2 of the show
I dislike the shirt. Iām not a big fan of how they drew his face either. But I like how they gave him Trevorās chest scar.
8. Captain N
Heās so rad. But to be honest, Captain N Alucard has a special place in my heart. I remember when this was the closest thing to an animated series Castlevania had. It being this high is purely my nostalgia. I highly recommend watching the episode. It is pure 90s camp.
9. Season 4 of the show
Whore.
10. Grimoire of Souls ā Blood and Loyalty
I canāt find a better look at this skin. Heās apparently dressed as a samurai. I like this purely because his hair is up. I donāt see enough of that. (artists pls youād be doing the world a service)
11. Lords of Shadow 2
The only thing I like about this design is the coat. The dark blue with gold looks really good. I donāt like the belts, but I can ignore them. My issue is the armor. I hate the bronze so much. The armor on one hip is ugly. The ONLY thing that salvages this crime is the fact this Alucard is wearing the highest heels. This looks like an MMO armor set.
12. Judgement
I only unironically like 2 of Judgementās designs. This is not one of them. I dislike it purely because of how boring it is. They put Simon in bondage gear, gave Trevor a boob window, and made Sypha a Catholic magical girl. But Alucard has to be more modest than the actual child. They could have fun with this but didn't. The most interesting thing about this design is they made a vintage couch into his cape.
13. Draculaās Curse
This is Alucardās original design. Itās just your standard pop culture vampire. I like his little owl hair tufts.
14. Legends
Iām fine with changing up Alucardās design. Hell, we got SotN because of changing it. However, why is he blue? Itās not this illustration either he is just light blue for some reason. I like the short hair. I think itās a cute way to show this game takes place in the past. But again, purple? Really? His necktie is not doing it for me either. It looks really bad.
15. And finally, last and certainly least: Pachinko and Moonlight Rhapsody
The faces? Good. Hair? Good. But for some reason they made his coat brown. At LEAST for pachinko they had some gold gauntlets and brown gloves instead of his sleeve cuffs. But whatever fucked up person at Konami did the design for MR kept the sleeve cuffs. Itās not like there is the excuse of āOh the inside is blackā because itās yellow. Now you might be asking: Why is this the worst? I have similar issues with other designs. But here is the thing, they all did something new. This is just your standard SotN Alucard with a color palette change. It looks like a recolor skin but itās the main one. It's a bad change but not one bad enough to not be boring.
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Actually can u tell us about all the little details/trinkets Osmund wears on his belt or person as a whole? I'm a sucker for character trinkets, especially religious imagery ones :)
ćšć Sure thing! It's pretty extensive so it's under a read-more to not clog everyone's dash. The IRL sources I've found will also be included as well.
šššš šššš ššššš! šššš šššš :
To start, Osmund wears a coin depicting a faun [ as it is noted in the files ], a half-humanĀ & half-goatĀ mythological creature appearing inĀ GreekĀ /Ā Roman mythology. Before their conflation with GreekĀ satyrs, they & Faunus were represented as naked men. Later, fauns became copies of the satyrs of Greek mythology, who themselves were originally shown as part-horse rather than part-goat. I'm sure you ( & other readers ) are familiar with the myth, including the unsavory elements of faun / satyrs in regards to sexual / seductive elements, so I don't think that is entirely necessary to get into. HOWEVER, I do believe there is a relation granted both are depicted ugly & bestial, having animal-like traits, & behaving predatory towards women. It is also no surprise that the villagers & aristocracy of Valdelobos would find pagan gods, thus any likeness of them, heretical / demonic. --- BUT IF WE LOOK INTO THE REAL-LIFE SOURCE, this is actually The Horns of Ammon ( because of the visual similarity, they were also associated with the fossils shells of ancient snails &Ā cephalopods, Las Plagas draws inspiration from both ), which represents protection & immortality, among other things. It is also a real historical coin depicting Alexander The Great. Alexander possessing horns was deliberate in the connotations of political &/or religious legitimacy, including indications of his status as a god ( born as a son of Zeus ), & these representations of Alexander under his successors carried implications of their divine lineage or succession from his reign. Granted Osmund comes from a "divine lineage" with his ancestry sporting horns ( even himself, he has two! ), it seems the connection was purposeful. Narratively, it would also be correct to label a character representing The Devil, as the "Two-Horned God" / "Horned God".
The details upon the black portion of his robes are Greek letters / Roman numbers to my knowledge. III, II, & V is self explanatory as 3,2 & 5. One is Phi, Ī¦, which symbolizes many different things, but I don't know if any are applicable to Los Iluminados. I don't think it is supposed to represent Theta / Tau / Ļ“ because of the positioning in comparison to the numerals. A second I can assume is Nu / N if we follow the alphabet. I don't recognize any symbols that is a square with a line through it, as well as a square with an x / ā. Anyone more knowledgeable I would love to hear information, or alternative takes. I might be wrong with the Greek / Roman angle, it could also be alchemy symbols, but I'm unsure.
UPDATE AS OF 9/4/24 --- This is Tifinagh script used by Amazigh communities from Northern Africa, which had been Arabized & were present in Spain until their forced conversion or expulsion. This same script is also present within their bible.
The cross Osmund wears is actually inspired from a Saint Benedict Medal, with Los Iluminados monks taking inspiration from Benedictines in order to tie together the story of Don Quixote, which believed them as devilish & unnatural. This religious object is a Christian symbol of opening doors & opening difficult paths. Tradition holds that it protects from curses, evil & vice, protects against diseases & protects good health. However, in the case of Los Iluminados, the Latin inscription reads "DONVM MAXIMVM" which to my knowledge means "Great Gift" in English. So, they may be interpreting that these curses, evil, vice, & diseases may be a form of blessing, which would be fitting. The figure also depicted on the medal is a cultist with his / her hands raised in prayer. The other medal ( which is normally the reverse side in reality, but can also be worn separately ) has completely unidentifiable ( to my knowledge ) Latin abbreviations, the real life source equivalent being Vade Retro Satana = Begone Satan! All we know is that Capcom deliberately added the date 1977, & why THAT specific year, I haven't a clue, & I haven't formed a concrete headcanon yet as of posting. The last medal he wears on the left in the bottom photograph is labeled as "cross", & there isn't much significant about it besides that.
The loving portrait he wears, in reality, is Maud Muller (1882) by artist George Elgar Hicks. "Maud Muller"Ā is a poem from 1856 written byĀ John Greenleaf Whittier. It is about a beautiful maid appropriately named Maud Muller. One day, while harvesting hay, she meets a judge from the local town. Each is smitten with the other. The judge thinks that he would like to be a local farmer married to Maud, while she thinks that she would like to be the wealthy judge's wife. Neither voices these thoughts, however, & both the judge & the maiden move on. The judge marries a woman of wealth whose love for him is based on his riches. Maud Muller marries a young uneducated farmer. Throughout the rest of their lives, each remembers the day of their meeting & remorsefully reflects on what might have been. This poem contains the well-known quotation : "For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'" Jaqi & I developed a character that is based upon the appearance / livelihood of this maid. We twisted / took a morbid take on the poem so that instead of the two being separate in life forever, Osmund & Eloisa eventually revisited & had gotten romantically together under tragic circumstances, as a civil war was occurring in Valdelobos. Eloisa became the first outsider baptized by Lord Saddler XV, & his first human consort, the rest of the white immaculate priestesses / 'sisters' following in her likeness ( similarly to Brides of Dracula in a horror sense ). You can find Eloisa at SUCORDERA! Osmund wearing the likeness of a romantic interest made the most sense to me, granted this is not the depiction of a Nun, Saintess or Priestess. The portrait depicting the first human outsider to genuinely show him kindness & compassion I thought would be a more interesting / complex / compelling detail as well, expressing a more dual-facet / gentle nature.
I haven't found the real source for these coins yet ( if one exists ) but they are labeled as "deer" in the files, & they show as much. All of the coins are attached together by chains, which forms a belt. A dark green wooden meditation necklace is there as well. The use of waist-chains can be traced back to 4000 years or more, originating in Southern Asia, as well as among Amazigh communities! Historically, waist-chains have been used in India, by men & women as ornaments & as part of religious ceremonies, as accessories, & to show affluence. The same is also true for North Africa. As Los Iluminados has clear inspiration from Shintoism / Buddhism / Hinduism & references spanning across the continent of Asia / Northern Africa, this isn't out of place at all. Stags are also the symbol for Christ, who tramples & destroys The Devil ; As Osmund sees himself as a messiah, it makes sense why he would wear the depiction of an animal that represents piety, devotion, & God's care for his children. Deer also become much more prominent in the next example, for good reason.
Osmund has a deer-headed serpent coiled around the entirety of his shakujoĀ staff, which can symbolize MANY things. Firstly, in the biblicalĀ Books of Kings, theĀ Nehushtan is theĀ bronzeĀ image of a serpent on a pole. The image is described in theĀ Book of Numbers, whereĀ YHWH instructedĀ MosesĀ to erect it so that theĀ IsraelitesĀ who saw it would be cured & be protected from dying from the bites of the "fiery serpents", which YHWH had sent to punish them for speaking against Him & Moses. I HC'd that his staff IS NAMED Nehushtan, for Los Iluminados is notorious for using Christian iconography for their blasphemous sect, such as calling Las Plagas "The Eucharist" / "Communion", or using terms such as "the covenant", DESPITE NOT BELIEVING IN ANY CHRISTIAN FIGURES. Secondly, as Osmund takes upon the role of a faith healer / alchemist, it can also represent theĀ Rod of Asclepius. ā ItĀ is a serpent-entwined rod wielded by the Greek godĀ Asclepius, a deity associated with healing & medicine. No doubt, as he cured Ramon of his 'mysterious disease' with seemingly no known human cure, you can see why I ( or Capcom ) would go with this angle. Thirdly, as we already know that the stag represents Christ, Christ having the body of The Devil is excellent symbolism for a false-prophet or demonic character. The Serpent ( Devil ) has also been depicted in ancient Illumination scripts to have the head of a prophet, but the body of a snake. If we look at this from a metaphorical sense, Osmund preaches the word of God ( thus his head / mouth ), but has the blood & body of The Devil, thus fulfilling the trope of a 'wolf in sheep's clothing'. Lastly, it can also represent the yokai Umishika from Japanese folklore, a deer-headed serpent fish which feasts upon humans. As Osmund canonically has ties to ningyo / hangyo from Japanese folklore, as well as roots from Asia, this creature may have been syncretized with the Abrahamic faith to form something entirely new.
LIGHTNING ROUND! The cross he wears is pretty self explanatory as it represents the adult form Las Plagas ( however they can manifest every which way ). Rubies are significant to Los Iluminados culture for it symbolizes "the color of fresh blood" as noted in Archives II. I also include in my HC that he wears parasitic jewelry, or that his own parasitic cells mutated & manifested as a form of growth which resembles such ( I prefer the latter ) in the form of a ring on his left hand, which hosts a fully functional eye. Osmund also wears 2 gold bands, but has a ecclesiastical ring on his right hand, which has an amber gemstone. Amber outside Los Iluminados ( mostly those who fear The Cult ) is thought to be corruptive if you touched / wore it, also noted in Archives II. This may or may not be because of the parasites slumbering inside the stone & their capability of quorum sensing.
--- šššš ššš ššššššš ššš šššš!
#/ hope you enjoy my million page essay#/ anyone reading if you have any comments or suggestions please let me know as well !!#viskozen#tw religious imagery#tw religious themes#tw religion#long post#<- III // V - [ INQUIRY ] - O N H X ->#<- III // V - [ CHARACTERIZATION INQUIRIES ] - O N H X ->#<- III // V - [ CHARACTER ANALYSIS ] - O N H X ->#<- III // V - [ AESTHETIC & MANNERISMS ] - O N H X ->#<- III // V - [ OUT OF CHARACTER ] - O N H X ->
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Wrong victim
Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.
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Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets.Ā
"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her.Ā
"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down."Ā
After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory.Ā
Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories.Ā
"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?"Ā
She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone.Ā
It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh.Ā
"Oh so you're that kinda crazy."Ā
"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair.Ā
He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment.Ā
She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family.Ā
"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on."Ā
A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "Theā¦ the devil," was his unsure reply.Ā
Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle.Ā
The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable.Ā
He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat.Ā
"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though.Ā
"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy."Ā
The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected.Ā
"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!"Ā
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile.Ā
After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette.Ā
After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention.Ā
"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth.Ā
Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed.Ā
There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson.Ā
The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago.Ā
"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words.Ā
He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them.Ā
She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin.Ā
"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things.Ā
The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago.Ā
"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile.Ā
"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle.Ā
With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic.Ā
"You said you would let me live!"Ā
Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all.Ā
"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair.Ā
Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do.Ā
She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition.Ā
After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction.Ā
"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest.Ā
At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle.Ā
"I take it that you approve of myā¦ design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol.Ā
"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips.Ā
A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined.Ā
She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands."Ā
The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe.Ā
"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck.Ā
She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level.Ā
Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt.Ā
Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk.Ā
"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh.Ā
"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time.Ā
#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden#unhinged maidenā¢ my beloved#tw: gore#cassandra being cassantra and comin to save her wifey#don't take this as a clue to how the mutation sequel may turn out#fanfic
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Lets šplay šthe šoutfit šcritique šgame!š Thoughts on the chinese mobile game alt outfits?? š
Me wanting to talk more about RWBY character designs: I know when no one got my back, Spec got my back-
The mobile game outfits for Team RWBY are honestly not that good. I really don't like them, but some do better than others for me with these four so let's start with-
Okay, there's actually some stuff from this that I really like! The little rose in her hair, while a bit much, is really cute and sells the cute youthful aspect of Ruby's character as the youngest and most "innocent" of the team.
The white, black and red all work pretty well. The white mid section isn't as distracting as an all white shirt would be, the mostly black use with the red still sells the colour without making Ruby wear too much of her colour, with even the red details on her dress adding some red in a pleasing way.
Problem is that this style looks like a cheap sexy devil costume you'd wear for Halloween. I don't like the belt going across her cape to clasp it, you have far better and honestly easier ways to make sure her cape doesn't fall off, the thigh high tights aren't Ruby's style at all, and the heels are not only impractical as fuck, but go against the canonical characterisation in that Ruby hates wearing heels.
She can't walk properly in them like Weiss and Blake can, and not only that, but again, a character design tells you what you need to know about a character before they open their mouth. What does a sexy devil in heels look do for Ruby? It makes her look older and "mature", but also pretty open and inviting in personality when at this point, Ruby really isn't?
Like she's not antisocial or anything, but Ruby canonically does not like meeting new people, and even later on in the show, she's not exactly the best person with people. Even if she's all smiles and such when declaring she's a Huntress, she has a severe case of Foot in Mouth syndrome, and this outfit really just falls into the pit that the show itself does.
Ruby doesn't need to show skin and get a sexier upgrade to be seen as more mature.
I. hate. this. stupid. outfit.
First point, the blue they use is way too dark and way too saturated. Weiss in royal blue doesn't work, Weiss in an ice blue works, it accents the white rather than overpowers it.
Second point, this is overcomplicated as all get out and just doesn't fit Weiss' fashion? Weiss wore detailed lace with frilled open sleeves, many small details on her skirt and jacket, and jewellery, but her type of design had a modern twist that all the RWBY outfits had in Beacon.
It was stylised, but still modern enough that you could take a lot of the outfit and reasonably wear it. Here, she has the same problems as her Atlas outfit, she looks like a Disney Princess, and that's not a look for Weiss.
They replaced her open collar with a choker type, the fabrics crossing over her chest are ugly, it's the same issue I had with her Shirow manga design, the puffed sleeves don't look good, and overall this just looks constricting. Weiss looks like she'd have trouble moving her arms properly, and all the trailing fabrics on her skirt and veil would just get caught if she ever tried to fight.
Who let this weeb out their basement?
This is such a huge jump from Blake's established designs that it looks like it's for an entirely different character. Blake wore French-inspired clothing, she's the Beauty in Beauty and the Beast, why is she in a trashy ninja outfit?
Not only does it not look good fashion wise with the multiple tight ropes around her and trailing fabrics that will get caught, but this is a legitimate moment where Blake's purple is actively a problem. She's in so much of it that it literally covers up most of the black on her outfit, and is way too light compared to the purple her original outfit uses.
However, and this is probably the only thing I like about this outfit, I like the use of red on it. I said in a previous ask that the reason the red soles on Blake's shoes in her Intruder outfit works is because her outfit is so monochromatic, but this actually works with it really well. If only Blake's colour is black, and not purple.
This looks like the most uncomfortable outfit known to man.
Yang in a whole leather jumpsuit just does not work. It looks suctioned to her body, it would be so uncomfortable and chafing to even move in, let alone fight in, and the use of colours really just makes an already bad outfit even worse.
The random use of purple and yellow doesn't work with the silver that's plastered all over her. Rather than trying to use the black as a base with the accents being yellow, and some purple in there for contrast, they just slapped it all over Yang without rhyme or reason, as well as deciding to use silver when that is literally the worst colour to use with gold in the amount they have.
Silver clashes with gold really badly, and it's very hard to make it work properly, especially when you then start adding such bold colours into the mix. Add how she has the tiniest red on her jacket zipper buckle, and this is just the designer trying to have the girls wearing all their teams colours.
Yeah that isn't gonna work. Yang is the one character where it can work, but the way they went at it really fell short of the mark. This looks cluttered, the colours are all fighting for attention, it doesn't even look comfortable like Monty designed his outfits to be, and the only thing I can praise is that at least they kept to the sexy biker that Yang originally was before jumping straight to butch UPS driver in Atlas.
#rwby#rwde#outfit critiques#ruby rose#weiss schnee#blake belladonna#yang xiao long#answered#luke.txt
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Hey! I hope youāre feeling better :) Could you do some older Obi Wan and Satine in an AU where they both live, The Emperor doesnāt get away with his craziness and we just have a happy Obitine living out the rest of their lives? :ā)
Hey Anon, we all love some happiness AU now and then.<3 I wasn't sure if you meant fic or art, so I did a little bit of both? (And by "older" i wasn't sure if you meant like "transforming into Alec Guinness" older, but the ficlet (~1500 words) ended up set just a few years after the end of the war.)
. . . . .
āSo early?ā
The sun hadnāt yet risen above the jagged Coruscant skyline, and the pink morning light softly illuminated the room as the city lights began to wink off. Satine pushed her hair out of her face to better observe the lovely man sitting up next to her in her bed, bare-chested and lightly freckled, his own hair charmingly disarrayed as well.
He bent, kissing her temple, his beard soft against her cheek.
āI promised Cin Iād lead a saber workshop this morning.ā
Satine rolled onto her back, reaching up to smooth his hair as he straightened. āThen I shanāt try to entice you to stay. Since you gave your word.ā
āYour very existence entices me to stay,ā he countered, smiling a little. āAlways.ā
āOh, very nice. Early morning flattery.ā
āGenuine,ā he protested, making a show of looking wounded.
āAlways?ā she challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. āThatās a bit difficult to swallow in light of your 15 year absence from my company.ā
āBelieve me, I was very enticed,ā he promised, kissing her again.
āYou might have to convince me. But later, I suppose.ā She heaved a sigh.
āI can probably get away in time for a late brunch,ā he offered.
She shook her head slightly, pushing herself up reluctantly from her comfortable nest of pillows. āPadme wants me in a meeting at midday.ā
āAnd the Chancellor must be obeyed.ā
āWell. This one, anyway,ā Satine said, with a twist of a wry smile. She meant no offense to Padmeās direct predecessor in the office, the Prince of Alderaan, but, even all these years later, they all still lived in the shadow of what Palpatine had nearly done to the Republic.
āIāll see you this evening, then.ā He pulled his undertunic on over his head, and Satine smoothed his hair again.
āI suppose, compared to 15 years, thatās not so long to wait.ā
āIt will feel like an eternity, I assure you.ā He gathered her into his arms.
āIf you keep that up, youāre going to be late. And what will you tell all those impressionable padawans if they ask what kept you?ā
āThey wouldnāt dare. My dear Satine, our relationship is the absolute worst kept secret in the Jedi Temple.ā
āWorse than Padme and Anakinās?ā
āAt this point, I think so. The arrival of the twins rather disqualified them from āsecretā status.ā
āHow is the new training system working out?ā
āWhat, letting the Skywalkers go home with their father at the end of the day? It certainly hasnāt seemed to impede their progress compared to their peers. A few other families are trying it as well. A couple from Lothal just brought their son to us on a similar schedule and will be living on Coruscant for a few years at least.ā
āIām looking forward to learning about the process in great and personal detail when we are also no longer able to maintain the pretense of secrecy.ā
He hitched up her chemise, resting a hand against the large scar below her sternum, pale even in comparison to her fair skin. If it hadnāt been for her long recovery from the damage to her spine, the Skywalker twins might already have a playmate. As it was, it was only about a year since sheād been healthy enough to consider trying to conceive.
āAs am I,ā he promised, his touch tender as he settled his hands on her waist and kissed her forehead.
āIt does seem strange to watch the Jedi Order bend,ā she pointed out when he picked up his outer tunic from the floor. She wasnāt above goading him a little, now and then.
He shook his head, taking it serenely, as usual. āWe do change. It usually takes a bit more time, but with our ranks so thinned by the casualties of the war, relaxing the requirements for initiates only makes sense.ā
āAnd ignoring the amorous exploits of Jedi Knights so that they make more initiates?ā She ran her fingertips lightly over his face, leaving a lingering touch on his mouth.
āWe more or less always did that.ā He kissed her hand.
āI recall being a bit more discreet in the past.ā
āThat was for your sake, not mine,ā he pointed out. āI mightāve had some official censure for being indiscreet, but I expect most of my cohorts were more likely to congratulate me on having the good fortune of catching your eye.ā
āWell, the Mandalorians couldnāt deny that youāre handsome and a fine warrior, but, indeed, the situation wouldāve been rather disagreeable at home if weād been exposed, at the time,ā she agreed.
āDo you miss it?ā he asked softly.
āWhat, the ugly, hateful rhetoric and death threats from Mandalorian extremists?ā
He shook his head. āHome. Sundari. Mandalore.ā
āSometimes,ā she admitted. āBo is doing well, though. Sheās wiser than she used to be. Sometimes I wonder if it shouldnāt have always been her on the throne.ā
āSheās ruling what you rebuilt. Do you think there wouldāve been anything left if it had always been her?ā
āMore flattery.ā
āAlso genuine.ā
āI like that you think that, anyway,ā she admitted. āHadnāt you better go?ā she asked, regretful.
āI could skip breakfast,ā he offered, leaning in to kiss her neck.
āAnd go to teach while youāre hungry and cross? I donāt think thatās a good idea,ā she countered, giggling a little.
āI would not be cross,ā he denied.
āWell, not at first. Anyway, I like that you suggested it, but youād better not.ā
āActually,ā he said, drawing back and giving her a twist of a smile. āThereās plenty of time. Workshopās not till midmorning.ā
āThen why all this pretense of getting dressed?ā she demanded, indignant.
āOne doesnāt like to assume. You mightāve wanted to go back to sleep.ā
āMy dear Obi-Wan, when have I ever preferred to go to back to sleep rather thanā¦ā
She didnāt have time to finish her sentence before he kissed her deeply.
. . . . .
(Evening...)
. . . . .
Satine wrapped her arms around his chest, nuzzling against him until he suddenly winced, breath hissing between his teeth.
āOld injury or new?ā she asked, stepping back and looking him over critically.
āNew. Nothing serious, I just think I overdid it at the saber workshop today.ā
She circled him, running her hands over his shoulders.
āYouāre all in knots,ā she scolded. āGet your tunics off. Do you think you pulled something?ā
He moved to oblige, flinching again. "I hope it's just a muscle cramp."
āOh, let me.ā She nudged his shoulder so that he turned to face her again, then ran her hands along the familiar lines of his tabard down to his waist, working at the fastening of his belt. āI donāt see why you didnāt go see the Healers.ā
āIt only just started to really trouble me.ā
āIs that entirely honest?ā
āYou mean, I didnāt want to give some young upstart the satisfaction of saying heād sent Master Kenobi to see the Healers? You think Iām that vain?ā he asked, as she proceeded with divesting him of his tunics. He could afford a little vanity, she reflected, admiring the graceful lines of musculature of his lean form and leaning to plant a light kiss between his collar bones.
āI think you areā¦ mindful of your reputation.ā She couldnāt help smiling a little.
He snorted softly. āPerhaps I am ā¦ a little vain.ā
āSo who can I blame for this injury?ā
āMe. Showing off,ā he confessed. āI couldāve just held my ground, but I gave it a little flourish to make it a good show. I ought to have known I was getting too old for that sort of thing.ā
āAnd did you win?ā
āThis time.ā
āI understand that you enjoy teaching these workshops, but I donāt see why it has end up in an all out duel against opponents half your age.ā She pulled him down to the bed with her, running her hands over his back carefully to gauge the sore spots.
āIs that meant to suggest that they have the unfair advantage or I do?ā He rolled his shoulders under her touch as she started the massage.
āIām sure both are true, in different ways.ā
āVery diplomatic,ā he assured her. āI suppose they want to test their mettle. I know I did, at their age.ā
āAnd did you challenge the reigning swordmasters?ā
āCertainly. And got soundly trounced for my trouble.ā
āAnd now it is your duty to do the trouncing?"
āIt is.ā
āCanāt you leave it to Anakin?ā
āAnakin does his share.ā
āSo who was it that almost beat you?ā
āYoung Dume. Depaās apprentice.ā
āYes, I met him when he escorted Senator Syndullaās daughter to the Chancellorās office. He seemed like a sweet boy, I suppose I can forgive him.ā
āDonāt be so quick to pardon. One of these days, heāll win. Or Suduri will, or half a dozen others.ā
āAnd then will you go see the Healers?ā
āWhy would I need to, when I can get such fine care here?ā
She shook her head even as she smiled, leaning down to kiss the back of his neck.
#Obi Wan Kenobi#Satine Kryze#Obi Wan/Satine#obitine#Star Wars AU#Happiness AU#Star Wars art#my art#pencil sketches#I wrote a thing#the art is a bit repetitive bleh sorry I know I've drawn this before#and maybe better?#ah well#long post
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Eloās tale
(Transcription of Eloās story)
Lilacsā¦ all I remember is lilacs. Theyāve stuck in my memory for centuries now. I used to love sitting near a little lilac bush. Theyāre all I have left of before I was taken, anything else I try to remember just draws a blank. I guess thatās irrelevant though, and I should just start telling my story.
It wasnāt as surprising as it should have been, what happened that night. Iād had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. My parents tried to convince me nothing was wrong. I wonder if they knew what would take place that night. If they did, Iām not sure if Iād rather have been prepared or remained ignorant those last few hours. Sorry Iām getting distracted, thereās no use in dwelling in what ifs.
Anyway, I went to bed that night trying to convince myself that everything was fine. I managed to fall asleep for a couple hours, those were the most peaceful moments Iāve had ever since. I woke up suddenly, rough hands were grabbing at me. I was so terrified I just let them take me away. I still have to remind myself that not fighting was the safest option.
The mysterious people had managed to restrain me. Being without sight or the ability to move did nothing to stop my panic. I was shoved into a beam of light, and the life I knew was over. There was no fanfare, I was just hit with the realization that there was no going back. My body simply gave up, and I fell to the floor.
I was locked in a room, and my body was finally freed. I desperately tried to untie my blindfold, but the knot was unyielding. I was simply left there, and all of my emotions came bubbling up to the surface. I screamed and banged on the walls. I either somehow managed to avoid any furniture, or the room was completely empty. I rampaged for a couple of hours, at least I think thatās how long it was. There was no way to keep track of time in that room.
My body eventually gave up. I was no closer to escaping, and I was using precious energy. I just lay there, completely numb to the world. Sleep overtook me, though again I have no idea for how long.
A harsh light filtered through, and hands once again grabbed me. These were much smaller, and I probably could have overtaken the person if I tried my hardest. That didnāt matter though, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. I was led through a labyrinth of corridors, my attempts to keep track stopped after turn number five. I heard a door open and was pushed through.
I heard rustling noises a foot or so behind me. Cold metal pressed against my neck and I froze. Thankfully, it moved away from my neck. I heard the blindfold fall to the floor, and blinked rapidly. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw a small room crammed with multiple sets of bunk beds. They were an ugly, faded orange. I have no idea why that detail stuck out to me, but it did.
On the beds were half a dozen girls. They were dressed in identical uniforms in varying states of disrepair. All of them were thin, so unnervingly thin. Their skin was covered in grime, only highlighting the purple, blue, and sometimes red that decorated their sallow skin. A haunted look filled their eyes, replaced with scrutiny as they inspected me.
I managed to tear my gaze from them, and inspected the person who had brought me to this miserable pit of despair. She was a relatively petite women, only a couple inches taller than I was. The intimidating thing about her wasnāt her figure. No, what filled me with sheer terror was what hung from her belt. A long black whip was looped around it, next to the chilling weapon was a strange contraption. I couldnāt tell what it was, but knowing itās companion I didnāt have high hopes. Not being a particularly quiet child, I soon learned that it was a gag.
The womanās voice was unpleasant. The joy she was feeling as she ordered the girls to teach me the rules was quite evident. She stalked away and left us to talk. We sat in uneasy silence for a couple of moments, no one daring to make the first move. I grew more anxious more anxious as the moments passed.
After it got to a point where I felt my heart would burst, one of the older girls spoke up. She looked about 15, though it was hard to tell with her gaunt appearance. She invited me to sit on her bed, and I graciously accepted. The other girls relaxed a bit, but still tracked my every movement.
I sat down and she explained to me things that would be crucial to my survival. This was a home for āorphansā. It was run by a rehoming agency dedicated to finding children safe homes. I almost laughed at how ridiculous that was. My home was certainly safe enough, before they decided to kidnap me. I didnāt dare interrupt, and she continued. The rules seemed completely ridiculous, though easy enough to follow.
Donāt speak when not spoken to, always listen to what your superiors order you to do, take discipline with silence, always remain pleasant when adopters are inspecting you. There were so many more, but I canāt be bothered to remember them all.
I canāt even begin to describe how horrible that place was. Everything elves swore didnāt happen in the lost cities, happened there. It was an absolute hellhouse.
The food, oh donāt get me started on the food. One meal a day was given for three weeks at a time. The week before adopters would come, we were allowed two. I donāt know which was worse, honestly. They could hardly be considered meals anyways. We were given a couple pieces of fruit. The amount differed on what they had in stock and how valuable you were. Even if you were lucky and got the most, it was nowhere near enough to fill you. The food was always rotten. There was no hiding it either, you could see how decayed it was. You just had to close your eyes, and imagine yourself in a better place.
We were always dirty, I didnāt feel clean for years. There was one bath a week, and we were only allowed ten minutes for it. Everyone had to get a chance. There was only soap for the favorites, the ones that were likely to get adopted. The rest of us had to make do with the tub of water weād been given.
The worst were the beatings. Anything you did, granted you a beating. Any rule broken was a beating earned. First, you would be restrained. They would wrap your entire face in a scratchy towel. You couldnāt see, hear, or smell. You were left with tasting the unwashed gag and feeling the pain all over your body. They never washed the towel, you could tell without even paying attention to it. You were also tied up with a long coil of rope. You couldnāt move anything, you just had to wait for it to be over.
They would start with your hands, it was always the hands. The gashes were felt every time you moved them. It was the perfect reminder of obedience. Next, they would move on to your back. Our dresses had a lace in the back that was easy to undo. The rope was then maneuvered so the dress hung at our sides. That saved them from having to waste thread on us. When your back was raw and bloody, they would leave. You would lay there unmoving for hours.
When they decided you learned your lesson, you would be shoved out the door. You would then be expected to complete your regular duties. There was no mercy, only pain. Any meals missed would be a meal you would live without. You had to be perfect, that was the only way they ended up making money.
I was a quick learner, thankfully. My scars arenāt that plentiful,and theyāve faded with time. I was an odd case, seemingly perfect but quite unfortunate. I was obedient, and helped take care of the little ones, but I was never adopted. The only reason I was kept around was to help the other children be better.
Everything wasnāt bad of course, there isnāt a single place without something good about it. Nixie was there to help me for the first two years. She was the big sister Iād never had. When she was gone, I read stories to the other girls. We could pretend we were somewhere else for a couple of hours. Those were the happiest moments of my time there.
Most of my memories have been frayed by time. There are some that remain crystal clear even all these centuries later. They always happened with a couple years in between.
The first was the disappearing girls. The always left in scattered clumps. It was only girls too, never a boy was taken. Anytime they were taken, well who knows what happened to them.
It always started with a letter. They were parchment, covered in silver ink. The only words written were I know a safe place. A few days later, the girl would simply vanish. No trace of her left.
I was told to envy those girls. They were free, in the world outside. They worried not of beatings or cruelty. It was all wishful thinking, on the other girlās part. No one had any idea what had happened to them. They could easily have died out there.
It could have been a trap, giving us a bit of hope before we would be dragged away in the night. I donāt know who would bother with it. No one bothered to convince us our fate was anything less than grim. Perhaps there was someone with a soul, they couldāve sent those letters. Given us some last moments of peace, before we met our ends.
Those letters were a one way ticket to freedom. If you could just get one of those, youād be safe. Any girls left with hope in her heart, spent it all wishing to see those five words.
I still donāt know what happened to the disappearing girls. Theyāre vanishing is a complete mystery. Why the writer only wanted young girl, well we can only wonder.
The second was when nixie left. I say left but that implies she had a choice. Stolen is more like it. It was odd, that was for sure. It was so sudden, I had her one moment and she was gone the next.
It was a winters night. I can only remember this because of the chilblains covering my feet. She had sung me a lullaby, one we had both long outgrown. I drifted into a peaceful sleep, her hypnotic voice lulling sleep towards me.
Morning light filtered through the grimy windows. It was oddly silent, considering how many of us were packed into the room. I climbed from my bunk, trying to enjoy the time I had.
I went to fetch nixie, and was startled to see her bunk empty. There was no where she might go, so it made no sense for her to be gone. I managed to calm myself, wild emotions did no one any good.
So I waited, getting less patient every hour. She still hadnāt shown up, and no one seemed to notice. I had lost all inhibitions, and asked the headmistress. She merely said that Nixie was no concern of mine.
I absentmindedly puzzled over this while I did my chores. It kept nagging at me, what could it possibly mean. A hopelessness started to fill me, how could I be left alone. Nixie was the only thing in my life I cared about.
She was my everything, we were sisters in all but blood. There was nothing else that mattered, nothing at all. I had somehow managed to make it through the entire day, a miracle, as a whipping would not have improved my temper. Crawling into bed was what broke the dam of emotions.
My eyesight blurred, then came the sobbing. I curled into a ball, trying to shield myself from the misery. I lay there for hours, my cries giving way to sniffles. That morning wasnāt a pleasant one.
Besides my new loneliness, the other girls had been barred from sleep by my fit. We were all inattentive, quite noticeably so. The worst part wasnāt even the punishment, the days of anticipation were agonizing.
I waited the longest, getting to suffer the most. I waited about a week, filled with the usual chores and treating the endless whip marks. I wonāt go into details, I wonāt force you to imagine it.
So I had to grow up, the little child I had left in me was crushed. I was starting to be seen as an older girl, one you could go to for guidance. It was odd, I wasnāt ready to assume a role of responsibility.
But I survived, and I guess thatās all that matters. Iāll still be alive as long as I have the ability to breathe.
The final thing I remember clearly is the weird bruises. They were in the shape of lips, appearing on only the prettier onesā skins.
None of them would say a thing about what happened. They all claimed it was secret, that we would all regret knowing. They were stubborn, and it was eventually accepted.
Some of the prettier ones were called on by workers. They would use weird words, meanings unclear to us. The children would return sore, though no blood was ever shed.
I started taking notice of it around the age of eighteen, when I had long since stopped asking questions. It was something that didnāt affect me, since I was never exceptionally pretty.
One thing that no could ignore, was the silence. The ones that were left with kiss shaped marks, rarely spoke. It was unnerving, to say the least.
Soon after that, they got tired of me. There was no use keeping me around. The kids I had taken care of had all been adopted. Besides, there were other more valuable children that they could force to step up. I knew what happened to the orphans they had to kick out, so I started plotting.
Packing wasnāt a problem, as my only earthly possession was the dress on my back. The only things other thing I would take with me, had to be acquired by other means. I stole scraps of food from the kitchen, a risky move but necessary. I hid it under my bed, and hoped the smell would pass inspection.
There was the matter of where I would go of course. I couldnāt just run, they would find me. I would still end up outside of the asylum, just without any supplies. They would strip and beat me, my colorful skin on full display.
No, what I needed was a pathfinder. I had no idea how to get one. I bided my time, knowing making the wrong move was fatal. I waited for about a fortnight or so, the knot in my stomach growing heavier.
The perfect opportunity eventually came. It was adoption week, some lord had decided to take in a poor orphan. I wasnāt really paying attention, my mind too focused on getting out.
The important thing is he ended up dropping his pathfinder. He was furious, and left as soon as he was given a spare one. The other children were sent to their room, and I was forced to clean it up. If two shards werenāt thrown away, well that doesnāt hurt anyone.
I had everything I needed, I just needed to wait for a moment alone. Those were rare, with how many of us were packed into the asylum.
I didnāt get that much sleep, my heart so filled with hope. I was busy dreaming of what my life would be like. I tried to block the imaginations out, but stubborn they were.
I had no idea where the shards would lead me. It could be a city or an estate. Wherever it was, it had to be better than here.
I could probably find gnomes, that would be the best outcome. From what little I still knew of the outside world, they were peaceful. I could at least be sure they wouldnāt attack me.
The thought of being without beatings almost overwhelmed me. How wonderful a life that would be, one without pain. I wouldnāt escape pain completely, of course. Iād have to deal with getting my own food, but I was used to hunger. There would be the lasting pain too, a deeper kind of pain. Something that couldnāt be fixed by bandages.
It seems ridiculous now, wishing for a life not spent drenched in blood. Now that Iāve made my home vaguely in elven society, I can see just how unusual my childhood was. Most elves go through life without scars, never even thinking of beatings. I guess thatās why so many people deny what happened to me, itās so unfamiliar they canāt even fathom it.
Despite my lackluster fantasies, sleep did take me. I was awoken by the morning bell, and the day started normal. We all had to miss the dayās meal, as penance for the disaster the day before. Our chores were agony that day.
I had to remind myself constantly to act normal. I somehow managed to pull it off. the other kids probably blamed my nerves on my increasingly shaky status at the asylum.
I managed to slip away, and return to my room for the last time. It was the first time I had ever thought about the room with anything but disgust. Every night I remembered was spent sleeping there.
Tears filled my eyes, every memory I had was made in the house. Almost none of them were happy, but they still made me who I was. I realized just what I was about to do. I was leaving behind everything I knew.
I steeled myself, this was no place for doubt. The asylum would bring only pain, and staying for a couple more days wouldnāt change that. I brought the two shards together and stepped into the light.
I appeared outside of some grand manor, I didnāt pay it much attention. It was pretty typical, all things considered. The only thing that stood out was a huge gate. Hanging on the gate was a clump of tangled vines. Bright red berries sprouted from the tangle of green.
I cautiously picked a single one and chewed it slowly. I waited several minutes, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, and I stripped the vines bare. I dropped the berries into my dress pocket and set off. The house was lacking in most things useful, but it had provided me with one of the most vital.
My journey was long, the sun laying down to rest long before it ended. I swatted at bugs, endlessly attacking. My feet bloodied and weary, the small flicker of hope had threatened to go dark. The moonlight lit my path, a quiet and comforting companion.
After many painful hours, I saw small, cozy structures. A kind of reckless energy flooded through me. I had no idea who was there, not what they wanted. It could be abandoned for all I knew.
Still, a shriveled soul desperate for hope knows not reason. I made a mad dash for the village, my last dregs of energy spent. My path was illuminated by small lamps hung from metal posts. I collapsed on the doorstep of a hut, a total helplessness overcoming me. Lady sleep took me, pitying my dirtied state.
I awoke, morning birds calling. My body wrapped in white, and my freedom forgotten. I thrashed away from the guard, and her gentle hand moved to stop me. The guards were never gentle, they never bothered with anything but force.
I relaxed into her touch, a bit foolish but instinctual. I didnāt remember the last time I had felt gentle touch, only that it had been too long. Nixie had disappeared years ago, leaving me with the younger girls. Their hands only reminded me of their age, much to young to suffer these atrocities.
There was another thing I noticed. I was clean. Not fresh by any means, but cleaner than I had been in years.
She spoke, her voice matching her grasp. It was almost musical, like songbirds I faintly remembered. I wasnāt paying attention to what she was saying, a million thoughts racing through my head.
She managed to calm me, through some miracle or other. She explained to me a couple things, though Iāve long forgotten her actual words.
We were in a village in the neutral territories. She was the head healer, and an elder. I would find asylum here, for as long as I shall need it. She told me her name was Vesa, an ancient name passed through generations of gnomes. She asked me what my name was.
What was my name? I didnāt have one at the orphan asylum. The headmistress always referred to us as you, if you were in her good graces, a number of insults of insults if you werenāt. The other children had no use for names, with how often we came and went. My legal name was long forgotten, as well as the rest of my past.
āEloā. Where had that come from? Only three letters, and yet it seemed so right, so familiar. Was it someone I knew, a million lifetimes ago? Whoever it was must have been important, for the name to stick through my many years.
I told Vesa the name, and she smiled at my answer. She glided away, and I was left to my frenzied thoughts. I was so unused to kindness, having gone without for years. Was it a trick? A trap? What did this mysterious gnome want from me?
She returned soon, interrupting my musings. She invited me to a bath, and I graciously accepted. It was perfect, something so relaxing I hadnāt dared to dream of it. Vesa joined me, helping tend to my hair.
She shampooed it, trying to salvage my battered curls. Her woody fingers combed through my hair, getting every last tangle from it. It was the first time it had received any real care. When she had finished I felt like a weight had been lifted, one of the first steps towards my new life.
She left me to wash my body and dry off. There was a pile of fresh clothes piled on the sink. I graciously took them and put them on. I looked in the mirror for the first time in years, and was shocked at what I found. There were no mirrors at the rehoming facility, and my appearance had been let go of.
My eyes were sunken, my face gaunt. I seemed quite like a corpse. My clothes only highlighted that fact. Their bright colors and loose fit, drowning me. My curls were frizzy and flat, nothing like the bouncy ones I remembered.
I didnāt want to keep my hostess waiting, so I returned to the main room. I quietly padded into the room, and she looked up. She smiled at me and led me to my room. Worn out for the day, I fell asleep as soon as my body hit the mattress.
I grew used to life in the village, it was quiet and peaceful. I spent most of my days telling stories to the children, the sun warming our backs. There was an odd feeling that stayed, a longing for something I didnāt remember.
Still, there was talk. Many people didnāt approve of my staying. They said it was improper, that I wasnāt meant for this life. Many who had started this life at my age said I didnāt fit in. They had been banished to this life, bearing one tragedy or another. There was also the matter of those born among the village, those whose blood was made to roam this stretch of earth. Born from another child, or in some other unfortunate circumstance.
I had been keenly aware of my separation. I was a girl from with nothing, no name, no family, no past. I kept my lips shut on my prior life, that mattered not now. That didnāt stop the talk though. I felt their every word. They meant well of course, wanting a better life for me. They thought I deserved a proper upbringing.
I tried to ignore it, but the words left their mark. After a month or so, there was talk of guests. An odd duo, a flasher and a shade. The man and woman came every so often, helping out wherever needed. They were seemingly well liked, and returned the feelings. The children were quite excited as well, being quite fond of the pair. They whispered among themselves during story time and seemed generally distracted.
This filled me with a certain nervous excitement. They seemed to hold quite a bit of prestige, their opinion seemed to be quite influential. Any mistake could end up in me being cast out.
My breath was held, and my shoulders tensed. No matter how much I dreaded it, the day still came. Early dawn came with the visitors. Even before the sun had shed her nightgown, a great clambering arose.
I wore my best dress and tidied myself the best I could. My heart was racing, my lungs curled. I looked through the window, watching the figures approach.
It was a blur of a day, things came and went. I performed all the proper niceties, and no wars were started. I had just about managed to survive the day and had retired to my room. I was about to get undressed when I was called back to the visiting room.
I hurried breathlessly back to Vesa, my stomach sunken and heavy as lead. Both visitors were sat on the sofa. All three were smiling, which I took as a good sign. Their expressions turned solemn as I approached,
They made mindless chatter with me, trying to ignore what they had summoned me for. Eventually they had to confront the very thing they had so carefully avoided.
āLivvy is willing to take you as her apprenticeā, Vesa murmured hesitantly.
I froze. Did she want to get rid of me this soon? Was I that bothersome? She was quick to reassure me, saying I was lovely company. But I could do so much more with my life. I didnāt have to stay here, I could live in the lost cities. That saw something I hadnāt even considered.
Livvy seemed nice enough. What some people said was starting to get to me. I was always wondering if I was a burden here. I made up my mind to go, to have a chance at a better life.
She was working on a personal project and wouldnāt be able to take me until the next time they visited. They took their leave, and I started getting ready for bed. Despite the unruly turn of the dayās events.
I spent the next few weeks waiting. My clothes were packed, and I was getting antsy. The days passed, the sun set and rose. Livvy came back, and we were off.
It was certainly unusual, living as her apprentice. She was nowhere near typical, a trait she shared with her friend. One of the first things he did was give me a hand sewn stuffed animal. It was oddly touching, as all gifts from Elwin tend to be.
She had many secrets. Iām pretty sure she was involved in something illegal. She was willing to share some secrets with me, others not so much. Iāll take those secrets to the grave, itās the least I can do.
So here I am, a licensed physician. I managed to survive somehow. Thatās my story, most of it at least. Some things, time has wiped away.
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Mia Deserved Better: An Analysis of RE8's Themes/Symbolism
Foreword: I would like to thank @lepusrufus for posting about both Mia and Miranda, and at one point directly saying that Mia deserved better, which is a large part of what caused me to start examining her role in the canon story. Now, I will say that this post, like some of my previous explorations of Village (such as my attempt to determine Donna's age), will not be the best organized. My ADHD makes such things rather difficult for me. However, I have tried more than usual, and have broken up this "essay" into several distinct sections. Still, I am worried that my thoughts will not be as concise or coherent as they were inside my head.
Under read-more for length and spoilers for RE8: Village.
Introduction:
Village is, inarguably, about parenthood. Is it a horror game? Yes. Is it also science fiction? Also yes. But is it still, at its core, a story, and therefore contains imagery, symbolism, and themes? Yes. Now, you may be wondering what this has to do with Mia deserving better. My proposal is as follows: While Village is overall about parenthood, it is more about motherhood than fatherhood. Furthermore, Mia's background + actions from the previous game tie her story directly with Mother Miranda's, making their potential interactions massively important to the story... and could have served the theme beautifully. The missed potential in her involvement in the story is honestly a little bit absurd.
Now, let's examine each of the Four Lords + their sections, as the beginning of analyzing the game's theme.
Lady Dimitrescu + Castle:
Ah, perhaps the clearest (albeit unimportant) bits of theme within the whole game. We are immediately presented with another parent, with three daughters she loves very, very much. Initially they work as a team to capture Ethan, easily overpowering him. When they do split up, each still has dialogue regarding their family members. Each of the daughters expresses a desire to be like their mother/make their mother proud. Lady Dimitrescu herself gets very upset every time one of her daughters perishes, and delivers some important dialogue about this in her final confrontation with Ethan.
To paraphrase, Lady D says that Ethan has done something unforgiveable, caused damage that can never heal, and deserves to die before his daughter. That last part is interesting, in the sense that Lady D seems to believe that outlasting your own child is a fate so terrible that she would not wish it upon anyone, including the person who killed her daughters.
Throughout her dialogue and actions, Lady D serves as an important figure of a living mother. What do I mean by that? Well, the only other mothers we see in game are Mia and Miranda. The former doesn't show up until almost the end of the game (seeing as the "Mia" at the start is not actually the real Mia), while the latter does not have a living child, and her behavior has (presumably) changed quite a bit since that loss. As Ethan goes through Castle Dimitrescu, he watches (he causes) Lady D to go through what Miranda did all those decades ago. When we see her loss, when we experience her loss, it is something we connect with, even comparing it (as Lady D does) to Ethan's loss of Rose.
For the more visual side of symbolism, we can turn to Lady Dimitrescu herself. She is very tall, is visibly older than the majority of the Village cast, and has a fairly classic (old-school) motherly look. Everything about her reinforces her position as an example of a mother, especially when she's with her daughters and becomes such a strong figure of protection. Her height allows her to seem the caretaker for her children, even though they are scary/intimidating in their own right.
Donna Beneviento + Waterfall House:
Yes, the baby/fetus/monstrosity is part of this. No, it is not the only bit of thematic work in this section of the game.
To begin, you can find out that Donna is officially the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda. Her birth parents are dead, implied to be from especially tragic causes (more than is the norm when it comes to "orphan making"), and she has suffered greatly from it. We see that she has been seemingly neglected by Miranda, and is incredibly isolated. The tragedy of her loss, along with the consequences presented by it, are something to keep in mind further down the road, when we inevitably deal with Ethan's own death.
One of the consequences of the environment Donna was raised in is, arguably, her reliance on Angie. While interpretations of their exact relationship (aka how much control Donna actually has at any given point) vary, the two very clearly have something akin to a mother/daughter vibe. Alternatively an older sister/younger sister sort of thing. This shows in the way that Donna holds/carries Angie, as well as the contrast in their demeanors. Moreso, the fact that Donna gave a part of herself to create Angie is almost enough to make the symbolism nonnegotiable.
We also see that Donna has a strong understanding of family/family dynamics, through the way that she uses her powers to manipulate Ethan. She dissects his connections to Mia and Rose, taunts him with the lengths he's willing to go to save his child, then shows him a grotesque version of parenthood: The aforementioned fetus monster. Does the monster represent Ethan's fears, or Donna's?
What if the monster is how Donna sees herself, in some way, perhaps thinking that it's her fault her parents died? Bit of a stretch, but it's not a keystone of my theory, so I'm just throwing it out there. We could, however, go a step further and ask ourselves if Donna has noticed the way Miranda neglects her, and the fetus monster is how Donna thinks Miranda sees her. A baby, true, but grotesque, so terribly imperfect compared to her "real daughter" (Eva, obvs).
Regardless, the monster presents an ugly side of parenthood. It shows us the blood, the hunger (with the way it repeatedly attempts to swallow Ethan whole), the wailing. If Lady D shows us the love of parenthood, the bond, Donna in turn shows us the hate, the misery. Everything that one must endure to reap the rewards of family.
Lastly, we get one last bit of symbolism with Donna's death: We play a game with Angie. A childhood classic, hide and seek. Ethan chases her down repeatedly, stabbing away, seemingly only hurting the doll. But what happens when he kills Angie? It turns out that he killed Donna. You kill the child, you kill the parent. A reinforcement of the connection that comes with parenthood, along with another notch in Ethan's family-murdering belt (not saying that he's the "true antagonist" or anything, just keeping track for one of my later points).
Moreau + The Reservoir
Let's get the worst possibility out of the way: Moreau, weakest and sickest of the four lords, lives in a reservoir, where he is relatively safe. To defeat him, you have to drain the water, forcing him onto dry(ish) land. Paired with the main ideas of his section (which I will detail after this nightmare), one could theorize that he's meant to represent birth itself. Again, he's safe in his ("womb") water, and becomes vulnerable when he leaves (like a fragile newborn). Kinda gross, in my opinion, and also not a strong enough connection for me to care much about. It was merely an interesting (albeit horrifying) enough thought that I felt it warranted sharing.
Moving on to the big stuff with Moreau: He's a baby. Evidence: Whiny, has difficulty moving around, struggles to adapt to his growth, throws up a bunch, loves his mother very much, cries for his mother when he's in trouble, etc. Although Mother Miranda does not care for him, he clearly cares for her, and plays yet another role of an abandoned child (like Donna). Without Miranda there to protect him, he perishes terribly, crying out for someone who does not care to answer.
Hearing him cry out for Miranda, over and over, only for her to continue ignoring him is a key piece in the build-up to our confrontation between Ethan and Miranda. The game, in many ways, centers around the comparison between the two. In my humble opinion, Mia should have been involved in this comparison, as opposed to supplying the solution to the result of said comparison. Yes, I know that was a lot of words that don't mean much yet, but trust me, I'm getting there.
Heisenberg + The Factory
Ironically, of the four lords, Heisenberg is the most similar to Mother Miranda. In his massive factory, he is alone except for his numerous experiments, the results of decades of playing God. In comparison to Ethan + Mia, Heisenberg represents artificial parentage, or more accurately, the artificial creation of "life". While the others Lords also performed experiments, they used living subjects. Heisenberg instead chose to use corpses, which he then "brought back to life" with cybernetics + his powers, a somewhat futuristic version of Dr. Frankenstein.
Together, Miranda and him show a rotten side of parenthood (whereas Donna + Moreau showed us the uglier side of the children themselves). To put it simply, they are bad parents. They throw their "children"/experiments into the fray, uncaring, using them as pawns for their own greater gain. The most important part of this is that Heisenberg offers to "help" Ethan: By using Rose as a weapon. In his act of refusal, Ethan demonstrates one of several important distinctions between himself and Mother Miranda. Where she is willing to use her "children" (read: lives that she is responsible for) as tools, he is not.
Miscellaneous Symbolism/Imagery:
The old hag is one of my favorite parts of Village. She's seemingly nuts, has a crazy old lady laugh, wears bones that make soothing bone noises when she moves, and she draws lots of symbols in the dirt. If you look closely (I can provide screenshots if anyone desires, but it will take a bit of work to get them onto my computer), she's drawing one of the most iconic images in the titular village: The winged unborn. This symbol acts as the key you build up after every fight with a Lord, understandably called the Unborn Key (which turns into the Winged Unborn Key). Whether this counts as foreshadowing towards the hag's identity reveal is technically irrelevant, but I like to think it does.
In essence, you build up the key, this depiction of an infant, to progress in the game. The more wings it gains, the closer you are to your goal of rescuing your child.
The cadou itself is very clearly fetus-shaped. Furthermore, the only place within the human body that we know it ever gets implanted is in the "tummy" (thanks Moreau), aka roughly where someone's womb is/would be. Every infected person we see presumably had the Cadou implanted there (though I think it would be interesting if implanting it in different spots caused different mutations. of course, that is a discussion for another day). To become immortal, you have to "bear" a "child". Does it get more direct than that?
Mother Miranda gained her immortality in part for her grief at the loss of her child. She embodied the despair that Lady D spoke of, becoming an eternal source of anguish. Just as the loss of a child is a wound that lasts forever, so too would Miranda last forever (well, until Ethan comes along).
Mia is a loving mother, who puts up with the BSAA making her move across the world, deals with the complications of having a mold husband and mold baby, and has proved herself (see her section in RE7) to be an immense badass. Previously I had forgotten that, and even embarrassed myself in the comments of another person's post by implying she wasn't a tough, ass-kicking machine. Y'all remember feral Mia? People talk about "poor Ethan's arms", but sometimes we forget that Mia was one of the people who did a number on them. Furthermore, she's one of the only living people (from outside the village) to have any connections (pun intended) to Mother Miranda. They worked together, although possibly not directly, on Evelyn. If anyone in Village has a chance of really understanding Miranda's plight, or knowing the truth behind it, it would be Mia. Yet we don't see them interact a single time. Which leads me to the next section...
Conclusion On Theme + Missed Potential:
Okay, okay, so it's pretty obvious at this point that, as previously stated, the game's theme is parenthood. Every section has its symbolism, the story is very obviously about a man trying to rescue his daughter, etc, etc, but what's the point? Is there a lesson, or a more focused interpretation of the central theme? Let's take one last step back, and focus on something I've mentioned a few times now: The comparison between Ethan and Mother Miranda.
Recurring dialogue from Ethan, Alcina, and Mother Miranda all point towards the developers acknowledging that the characters are similar, but there's nowhere near as much conversation about it as I would like. Several times we have the antagonists ask Ethan how he's so willing to kill someone else's child, or prevent them from (essentially) doing what he's doing (aka saving his daughter). While Ethan responds with a mix of "well you started it" and "aghhh fuck-a-you, bitch", there's a much more solid, unspoken difference: Mother Miranda sends her underlings to kill, so that she may revive her daughter. Ethan kills (read: does the work himself) to get his daughter. The difference is much bigger, and more important, at the end of the game, when we realize just how far it goes. Ethan dies to save his daughter. Time and time again Mother Miranda has killed others for her work, but in the end she is stopped when someone willingly dies to stop her.
Where does Mia come in? Mia, the badass mother, the one who once worked alongside Mother Miranda, should have been the nail in the coffin. She is the one who survives, who lives on to raise Rose, she is the silent solution to Ethan's sacrifice. Miranda, you fool, what could you have accomplished if you had held onto your makeshift family? Through Mia (and Chris, to a lesser degree), his "loss" becomes a victory. There's a certain poetic justice that comes with Rose's full family being instrumental in saving her, when Miranda so readily spurned her own family.
Mia could have had an actual conversation with Miranda, their history giving the latter a reason to actually listen. I'm not saying that Miranda would have changed her mind/plans, but the conversation would have been a well-needed contrast to Ethan's "arggg what the fuck is happening, I only have two reactions to things. agg fuck you". Additionally, I feel that Mia (who was captured and had to endure who-knows-what) deserves the opportunity to be the one who points out Miranda's mistakes, who delivers the final "fuck you" to her. More than that, she's the one at the end who can say that hey, maybe she can understand some of what Miranda did. Was there anything her and Ethan wouldn't have done to save Rose? As much as Ethan is a foil to Miranda, Mia could (and should) have played a similar role.
When so much of the story and symbolism revolves around Miranda's experience as a mother, it only would have been fair to shine a light on her equivalent. Her better.
There's more I wanted to say/feel like I didn't properly get across, and I might add more to this at some point, but it's 5:40 AM right now, and I'm starting to feel like my brain is slowing down, so... Feel free to reblog/comment and add your own thoughts!
#mother miranda#mia winters#ethan winters#rosemary winters#resident evil: village#re8 village#god what do I tag this as
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Um.... I have to ask you something... do simply prefer SUPER SIMPLE outfits that are simply easy to draw? I mean to perfectly match the silhouette, draw rather plain shirts to help make it entertaining? like bro, sorry to offend you, BUT IT"S LITTERALLY BORING. Ok ok jokes aside, why prefer simple?
Ooof, anon, this merits SO MUCH elaboration, because my preferences are so much more nuanced than that. You are conflating simplicity with plainness and that's just not how I roll in the slightest.
The Tokyo Mew Mews are simple, and yet I praise as much as I critique them for it. Their simplicity is as much their strength as their weakness: they are easy to draw and animate and cosplay, and the cherry on top is that this allows their silhouettes to be more attractive and iconic. And yet, they don't look good together. The aesthetic of their anime is markedly worse because there's hardly any way to balance their colors. Still, I have yet to see any redesigns from them that actually finds a way to solve this problem without taking away their strengths.
Amulet Heart is simple. She has a plain shirt as you say, but she was one of the very first girls I critiqued, in part because that shirt doesn't help her out at all. I wouldn't go so far as to call her boring, but she's not attractive either.
Now let's look at another girl who isn't always necessarily magical, but who will help me get my point across: Jinx, from Arcane!
Is she simple? There are a lot of specific details in her outfit, hair pins, layering, metal bits all over... Not to mention her tattoos, her painted nails, and all the pains that must have gone into animating her very specific facial details to create her amazing expressions. As an aspiring character designer who needs to study animation I can assure you that she is very difficult to animate with the level of quality we see in Arcane, even if 3D smoothes out some processes over. Were it not for the tremendous amount of money, effort, talent and, most of all, time that the show got for production it would've been unthinkable that any professional would ever approve this design.
However, none of those aforementioned details contradict eachother, nothing competes, her silhouette remains concise and easy to understand, and it all tells a story about the character. The base elements of her look are very simple clothes- a halter top, boots, gloves, and pants down to her calves cinched to a belt. In summary, as it is evident to everyone with two eyes, this design is fucking amazing.
In my pinned post about the three rules I used that word "concise". I then separated the word in halves- "clear" and "uncluttered". However, the paragraph I wrote was just as much about how it was important for the design itself to convey an idea- and that's just the thing. When I criticize Precure's oversaturated designs, I don't do so because I'd prefer it if they took, say, Black Rock Shooter's approach to austerity. If that were the case the A La Mode Precures would not be my favorite team, it would be the Happiness Charge Precures. There's two reasons for it, instead: either the way they brake the third rule I established makes it impossible to immerse myself in the fantasy of fighting evil in those costumes, and/or the added detail doesn't contribute into telling me anything about the character, and instead takes up space/ looks ugly/ gives more work to the animators or all at the same time.
In summary, anon, I don't prefer "simple", much less "boring". I prefer good. I prefer telling. I prefer a character design that will inform me of what kind of person I'm watching without my brain shortcircuiting trying to process how every detail fits together.
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Christmas Figurines and Mistletoe | Damian Wayne
ā¦ pairing ā older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader
ā¦ word count ā 2.4k
ā¦ request ā Could you write something about being caught under the mistletoe with Damian Wayne? Fluffy and really mutty.
ā¦ warnings ā nsfw, reader has a vagina, making out, vaginal sex, pouty Damian, jealousy if you squint, fluff.
ā¦ authorās note ā I assumed anon meant smutty instead of mutty.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
Damian was driving you crazy. And not the good kind of crazy. You were regretting staying at Titan Tower instead of going Christmas shopping with your friends.
You had assumed they would need the bonding moment on their own. They would spend Christmas at the tower while you would do so at home, it was only fair.
The problem was that you didnāt think Damian would come to the tower so early. He had said heād come by that evening to make sure everything was perfect for the Christmas party you all convinced him to throw.
He hated almost everything. And you were terrified of showing him the Christmas tree because it was... a lot.
Explaining to him that Christmas was supposed to be colorful and that meant things looking tacky here and there would be pointless. He had been clear on what he didnāt want to see.
Damian clenched his jaw as he stood in front of the tree. āWhy are the lights off?ā
āThe Towerās empty.ā
āYou are here,ā he said drily. āWhat did you do?ā
You immediately defended yourself, āI didnāt do anything! I wasnāt here when the tree was decorated. You sent Jon and me on that quick mission, remember?ā
Damian grunted, nodding. To your horror, he lit the tree up himself. A strange sound spluttered from his throat, and he turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.
āDamian, come on! Itās cheerful.ā
āWho was the genius who decided that colorful lights and colorful ornaments were a good look?ā
āI donāt know... Christmas trees come from a German tradition, andāā
He interrupted you, exasperated, āThis specific tree!ā
You shrugged. The tree had already been decorated when you came back, just like the kitchen.
Oh, the kitchen. Damian hated it, it looked cluttered according to him.
He picked a ceramic figurine and examined it. āThis is the sloppiest paint job Iāve ever seen.ā
āMost figurines come like that. Or with deformed faces.ā
He placed it back in its place, turning around to examine you. āI find it interesting,ā he mused, dragging his eyes to the microwave which was decorated by a Christmas themed microwave cover, āthat you seem to know a lot about figurines and their flaws.ā
āI didnāt buy them if thatās what youāre implying.ā
āYou bought Christmas mugs for everybody.ā
āYes, but I didnāt buy those!ā Seeing him incredulously lift his eyebrows, you groaned. āLook, those figurines are common in most households. My mom loves them. Thatās it, thatās how I know how flawed the come.ā
āWhat will you do if I inspect your bedroom and more of those ugly things are there?ā
You slanted your head, making a motion for him to exit the kitchen with you. āCome. Inspect it.ā
You lead the way, more relieved than exasperated. He would drop it once he realized you didnāt have anything to do with it, he always did.
Before he could cross the kitchenās doorway, Damian halted his steps behind you, grasping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You turned around, now confused.
He looked up to the top of the doorframe. His eyes stayed there and he remained silent which prompted you to look up too.
You shifted as mistletoe came to view. āIā I didnāt put that there... I didnāt even know somebody had bought it!ā You attempted to move, hoping he would drop his hands. When he didnāt, you said, āIāll get it off.ā
Damianās grip on your hips tightened. āNot following the tradition would bring us bad luck,ā he explained with ease.
Your stomach flipped. Damian wasnāt superstitious.
āYeah,ā you breathed out, āyouāre right.ā
You half-expected a comment along the lines of āIām always right,ā but instead, he slowly leaned in. You did the same, meeting him in the middle. His lashes brushed your skin when his eyes lidded closed, prompting yours to flutter.
He kissed you softly, taking his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong. You tentatively placed your hands on his arms, ever so slightly tilting your head.
Pulling away, you nervously watched him. Damian slowly opened his eyes, not helping your case and making you feel giddy as he gazed at you.
He brought you in for another kiss, resting his lower back against the counter. Damian swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and you eagerly opened your mouth for him.
His pleased hum sent shivers down your spine. As if it wasnāt enough to have you breathless, his hands lightly wandered to your back. His touch and kiss didnāt match in rhythm, and it only drove you crazier.
One of his hands fell onto your ass, then the other. You instinctively pushed your hips forward, hands flying to his shoulders. He grasped your asscheeks in both hands and pulled your hips flush against his.
A low whimper left your mouth, going directly down his throat as he swallowed it by kissing you harder.
He pushed you back. Assuming he needed space, you withdrew your hands from his shoulders. Damian briefly frowned, yet his grip tightened on you as he tried a different approach by walking you backward instead of pushing you.
āI still need to inspect your room,ā he said, voice low as he analyzed your reaction.
You didnāt trust your voice so you merely nodded. It would have been easier to walk to your room by yourself, or with his hands still on you but actually looking where you were stepping.
The thought of walking slowly so you could savor the weight of his hands on your body was tempting. But Damian hated wasting time. And slow walkers.
Your room was underwhelming in comparison to your teammatesā, in part because you didnāt have time to decorate and in part because you didnāt know what to do with the empty wall near the window therefore you couldnāt make up your mind about anything else.
āYou can open any drawer you want,ā you told him, ready to put the moment you had just shared to the side.
Damian gave you an incredulous look upon realizing you were being serious.
His eyes were as green as ever, watching you carefully as though he expected you to read his mind. Not for the first time, you wished you could.
His hands twitched on your ass. One of them softly caressed the area, drawing random patterns on your clothed asscheek.
āYou canāt possibly think I brought you here to look for a stupid Christmas ornament.ā
āSo you brought me to my bedroom just to make out?ā
āLetās go with that,ā he conceded. āI didnāt want us to be interrupted.ā
āCanāt let the team know about your crush on me?ā you teased him before you could fully realize what you were saying. It was fun banter, meaningless.
Damian turned serious. āIām certain they know by now, but I would rather not get caught groping your ass in the middle of the kitchen.ā
āWait... so you hung the mistletoe?ā
āNo. But Iām not above admitting I should thank whoever did it.ā He firmly rested his hands on your ass, pushing his hips against yours. āNow, can we stop talking?ā
āSure.ā You kissed him this time, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Soon, he had you on his lap as he sat on your bed, humping him while he kissed your neck. He inched your sweater up, brushing your belly with his fingertips.
āI want you,ā you whined, aware that he would leave marks on your neck.
āIām here,ā he deadpanned, nipping at your throat as he continued lifting your sweater.
You stopped moving your hips, lightly shifting on his lap in order for your hands to reach his belt. He didnāt stop you, so you went on and unbuckled his belt before undoing his pants.
Damian made you stand up, not for a moment taking his hands off you. In contrast, your neck already missed his plump lips.
He undid your jeans in a hurry, lowering them down your knees along with your panties.
Bluntly, he asked, āYou need me to finger you first?ā
Feeling your face heat up as he intensely gazed at you in expectancy of an answer, you pulled one of your hands off his body and parted your folds.
You found embarrassing how wet he made you. Only able to shake your head, you avoided looking at him directly.
āUse your words,ā he commanded softly.
āNo,ā you whispered. He shuffled, lifting his hips to get rid of his pants and boxers. The gesture made your skin tingle, and as you kicked your shoes and jeans off, you added, āI donāt need you to finger me.ā
Hissing, Damian held his cock for you, looking down as you placed your palm on top of the back of his hand. Your hand replaced his, and you softly caressed his cock.
āCondom?ā
He stretched his arm, slanting his body to the side as he reached for his wallet. He handed the condom to you without a word, throwing his wallet onto the floor.
Once you had rolled the condom down his cock, his gaze lifted. You straddled him again, slowly gliding down. A groan spurted from within him as you took your time to push inch after inch of his cock inside you.
Damianās eyes were on your face, refusing to lose any detail of your reaction as he entered you for the first time.
You moaned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He held you by the waist, holding his breath as you ever so slightly drove your hips forward.
The more you moved, the less he cared about whether he was loud or not. There hadnāt been signs of the team coming back, but you were certain Damian wouldnāt have cared either way.
He began moving his hips at your rhythm, only prompting you to roll your hips more enthusiastically as you sucked on his neck.
You tried to push him to lay down on the bed, but he stopped you, speaking softly. āWait. Itās hot in here.ā
Feeling empty as you moved away from his lap in order to get rid of your remaining clothes, you entertained yourself by admiring his body as he did the same.
Damian grabbed your hand, bringing you on top of him as he laid on his back. He kissed you, holding the back of your head with a hand as the other rested on your lower back.
Such placement made it extremely easy for him to roll you over so he could be on top, and the distraction his lips bestowed upon you a calculated move.
āMeanie,ā you lightheartedly panted on his mouth.
He huffed a laugh, giving you a short kiss. āYou seem to like it.ā Damian dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, briefly teasing you before shoving it inside you.
He caressed your thighs as he started to thrust in slow strokes, teasing you some more as he controlled his breath.
Bottoming out, Damian tightened his grip on your thighs. He rolled his hips, and by your request started going faster.
You dropped your head onto the pillow, whimpering freely. This time you were the one who didnāt care if the tower was still empty.
His mouth hovered over yours. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, and by the way he was smiling at you, he surely knew.
āYou look so beautiful right now,ā he told you, lips brushing against yours. āEven more beautiful than in my imagination.ā
You canted your hips up, desperate for more. More of him, of his voice, of everything he was willing to give.
And he granted you such wishes, picking up his pace, kissing you, gripping your thighs just the way you liked it even though he had no way to know.
Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to have him closer. It was impossible to do so, yet you had to give it a try.
āYouāre gonna make me come,ā you announced.
As though your words had been a demand for him to make you come already, he pressed his fingers on your clit and started rubbing as he thrust inside you.
Tired and spent, you felt his weight fall on top of your front. Damian kissed the side of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily.
Eventually, you softly pushed him off you and begrudgingly left the bed in direction to the bathroom.
You were washing your legs with the showerhead when Damian entered the bathroom. āThere are clean towels in the second drawer if you also want to wash yourself,ā you informed him.
He opened said drawer as you shut the water. He didnāt make any move for a moment, but he took a clean towel nonetheless.
You patted your skin dry, moving out of his way so he could use the shower.
āYou had condoms here,ā he observed.
āWell, I didnāt know which type of condom you preferred...ā
āOh, are those somebody elseās preferred ones?ā
You slipped a clean pair of panties on. He watched you. āPlease tell me youāre not actually angry because of this.ā
āYour shower gel smells nice,ā he opted for saying.
You hummed. āItās new. I got tired of the blue one.ā
Giving him privacy, you exited the bathroom and decided to check the mattress in case you needed to change the bedding.
Back in your bedroom, Damian silently put his boxers back on. He didnāt bother with his pants nor his shirt.
āIām not angry,ā he finally stopped avoiding the subject.
You tried not to frown. āYouāre pouting.ā
His expression turned blank. āI donāt pout.ā
āWhatever helps you sleep at night.ā
āCome to the Christmas party with me.ā
āIāll be at the party either way.ā
āYes,ā he gritted before inhaling deeply. āBut I want you to be with me. As my date.ā
āWhat would the difference be?ā You didnāt understand why it was such a big deal. āWe know everybody already.ā
āFor one, it would help me sleep at night.ā He took you by the face with one hand, looking straight into your eyes. āYes or no?ā
āYes.ā Your voice sounded weird due to the pressure of his fingers on your cheeks
Damian gave you a sweet kiss, loosening his grip on your face to cup your cheek. You softly placed your hand on the back of his head, giving him another kiss. And another, and another, until you lost count.
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youāre someone i just want around: III
āYou can have me tonight or never
I thought you understood
Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked
So take what Iām willing to give, love it or hate it.ā
āWrong, Zayn and Kehlani
A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so itās getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted thisĀ SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated šleyla @sunflowervolvimp3āĀ tookĀ the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to whatās in store for the characters šwithout further delay, here she is...buckle up ššthis is gonna be quite the ride
ysijwa masterlist : andreaās masterlist : leylaās masterlist : ysijwa playlist
word count: 24.2k
content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to āinterior designā sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting
///
Y/N definitely puts Harryās number to good use. Very good use.
In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, itās hardly a stretch.Ā Ā
It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting.Ā
Harry still hates clubs.Ā
He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them.Ā
And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, heās absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now.Ā
Niall got to pick the venue this time. Heād texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M.Ā
Itās now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry.Ā
This, however, is not uncommon. Heās always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on timeā which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampireās theatrics.Ā
So on this Friday night, there isnāt much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and itās been that way for decades now, for a reason heād rather not reminisce. He doesnāt owe anything to anyone, especially since heās the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldnāt do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it isā heās just the way he is, and theyāve all learned to live with and respect that.
The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends arenāt aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybeā if heās insistent enough and feeling particularly peskyā an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his groupās unamusement.Ā
Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless theyāre willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to beā which is usually only when it benefits themā and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. Heās indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective.Ā
So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce heās so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love.Ā
Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he canāt be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp.Ā
Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadnāt questioned the present when heād received itā only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. Heād fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, āFuck, I think I just got hard.ā
The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, heād shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall?Ā
Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that heās grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until heās satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left.Ā
Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. Itās a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesnāt really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either wayā he likes it when people stare. Heās got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.
Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which heād ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someoneās interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.Ā Ā
The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his fatherās gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as alwaysā his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his motherās opal. He never goes anywhere without them.Ā
After heās slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations.Ā
Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitableā another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke.Ā
Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. Itās not his fault heās nearly flawless. His longā and unfortunateā extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. Thereās only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant.Ā
Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niallās voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. Heās always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how heās freely ranting about Harryās exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mindā As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softlyā because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought.Ā
None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he canāt keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day theyād all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry canāt let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of whatās best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.
With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, heās also practical; if heās going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun.Ā
The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because itās such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; itās almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend?Ā
Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, heād bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen.Ā
The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis.Ā
After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes.Ā
A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passengerās seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when sheād yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air.Ā
A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, āI want to make you feel good.ā High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortalās bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread.Ā
Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone.Ā
Harry doesnāt mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as heād drawn moans from hers. āY/N.ā
Itās not like he didnāt remember her, because he did. And itās not like he hadnāt thought of her since, because he had. But itād been in passing and barely relevantā faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds.Ā
Heād thought of her a couple days ago, when heād been wandering around the mall with his friends. Theyād passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. Sheād unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when heād gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrudeā a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night heād drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. Heād chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation.Ā
The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. Heād been sitting in his glorified bathtubā which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzziā with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as heād repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When heād finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum.Ā
But, as heād stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and heād been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadnāt thought of her since.Ā
That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis.Ā
A disco ball. The exact same character heād assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and heās always a sucker for a good paradox.Ā
Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldnāt have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, sheāll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights.Ā
After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personalityā the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter.Ā
Well, this is awkward. I donāt remember giving my number to a disco ball.
The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesnāt know why, but he likes that she has them on.Ā
A swift pause followsā in which he has no doubt sheās probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to hisā and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that sheās typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.
Funny as ever, I see. Itās Y/N, from the club last Friday.Ā
Harryās slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but heāll keep the interaction going for curiosityās sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Canāt always have it all.
Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me orā¦?
He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch.Ā
Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, IāM the one who wants to talk to you, actually.
Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills.Ā
Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Donāt want it to think Iām being rude and casting it aside.
The creature canāt see it, but now Y/Nās lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.
How caring of you! Iāll pass on the message.
A full grin begins to edge across Harryās cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. Thatās more like it.Ā
His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but heāll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy.Ā
So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?
He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.
Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.
Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. Sheās smart.Ā
My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?
A similar grin buckles Y/Nās face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back.Ā
Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.
Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. Heās having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind.Ā
My pleasure, love. Iād be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. Iām shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points.Ā
āCute.ā Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well theyāre getting on. Itās almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if theyāre friends.Ā
Sheād been nervous to reach out, fearing that heād see it and ignore herā or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she couldāve hoped
Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Wouldāve given you six if it was allowed.Ā
Harry shifts his weight against the surface heās using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. Heās not mad about it, though. Itās pretty enjoyable.Ā
Thank you so much for your input! Itās taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.Ā Ā
Warmth pours into Y/Nās cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. Heās really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.
Iām glad my standards are held so highly, especially since Iām trying to book another advising appointment with you.Ā
Is that so?
Very much so. How about tonight, if youāre free? Iāve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just canāt handle alone.
The vampireās irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all.Ā
Iām on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?
Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. āMoron.ā
Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.
However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes?Ā
With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure sheād interpreted it correctly. She canāt believe heād agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time heād given her to prepare, sheās extremely thankful sheād decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call.Ā
Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?
Donāt worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget.Ā
Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like itās glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how theyād seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds.Ā
But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowdā another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copiesā and sheād certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently.Ā
She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.
Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mrā¦?Ā
Y/N comes to the realization that she doesnāt even know his last name. She doesnāt know the last name of the guy sheād let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...Theyād blow California into a crater.Ā
The nameās Styles. Harry Styles.Ā
She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. Itās probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle.Ā
Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?
Very soon. Canāt wait to show you the wood samples I just found.
With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction heād just had. Heās going to get his needs taken care ofāboth intimate and carnalā by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and heās never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand.Ā
The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. āHarry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!ā
The vampireās head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. Heād been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. āIām on my way down!ā
Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isnāt leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure heās set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black.Ā
Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once heās halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.
āFucking finally.ā The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. āI thought youād died. Really died.ā
Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. āIf I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up youāre wearing, I just might.āĀ Ā
Niallās irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. āHey! I really like this one!ā
Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. āYour fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.ā
Niallās face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunetteās wrist away. āAnd your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.āĀ
Harryās jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niallās top. āAnd yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.ā
The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friendās hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but thereās no true malice behind it. āMore like parasitism.āĀ
āSo are you two gonna kiss now or what?ā Mitchās soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. Heās wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt heād gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a clubā too casual, in Harryās opinion. āThe sexual tension is killing the audience.āĀ
The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. āWhat dāyou say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? Iām down.ā
The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. āDonāt know where your mouthās been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, itās nowhere good. Iām going to respectfully decline.āĀ
āThere was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.ā Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niallās shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. āYou need to work on your people skills.ā
āMy people skills are fine.ā Niall quips back sarcastically. āHarry just isnāt a person, heās a demon.āĀ
āTechnically, we all are.ā The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. āI just donāt care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niallās taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasnāt clear before.ā
āIt was.ā Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.
Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/Nās flat. He shouldāve suggested a longer time span.
Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. Theyāre all waiting for him. Heās the one driving, after all.Ā
The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news heās about to break.Ā
āIām not going.ā
The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical.Ā Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand heās being serious.
After at least ten heartbeatsā a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurementā a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him.Ā
āYouāve got to be fucking kidding me!ā
Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and heās definitely not scared of a vampire whoās practically a newborn. Xanderās the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scaleā heād transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that heās older when in reality, he isnātā so Harryās strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and heās certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why heās the most explosive.Ā
Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article wonāt be a pest in the windy California night. āIām not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.ā
Xanderās fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. āWhat could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?ā
Harry canāt stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once theyād gotten inside their club for the night. āI have a date.āĀ Ā
Xanderās entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. āA date?ā
The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like itās his job. Harry doesnāt know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. āYup. With a girl I met last week, actually.ā
āYou donāt go on dates.ā Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. āYou rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.āĀ
Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. āI guess itās less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ācause itās easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This mealās already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact Iāll enjoy it, so thereās no real harm.āĀ
He turns back to Xander, the manās peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. āWhat was that you said last time, Xanny?ā
āI told you to stop calling me that.ā
āOh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.ā
Harryās friendās cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. āYouāre a fucking asshole.ā
Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. āGirls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.āĀ
Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harryās blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. āWhoās going to take us, then?ā
The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. āYou could take Niallās car. Problem solved.ā
The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. Itās already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so itās a miracle that theyād all managed to end up together in the first place. And itās an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line.Ā
Since they all live in the same building, Niallās car is in the garage right beside Harryās, so transportation shouldnāt be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because heās the only one that actually enjoys driving.Ā
āAre you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?ā Xander sputters in appalled shock. āNiall drives like a lunatic!āĀ
āOi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.ā
Xander ignores Niallās insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. āI refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.ā
āDid I miss the memo?ā Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. āYāknow, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?ā
Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coatās shoulder blade. āYou donāt necessarily make it hard, love.āĀ
Niallās jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. āXanderās rightā you are an asshole.ā
āYeah, well, heās also right about you driving like youāre on tranquilizers.ā Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. āI guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so Iām our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.āĀ
āYeah, just keep talking about me like Iām not present. Thatās fine. Iām spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.āĀ
āWell,ā Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/Nās apartment on time and trafficās a bitch at this hour. āI have nothing to do with this anymore, so Iām just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.āĀ
He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since heād left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they wouldāve taken the piss.
Niallās accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. āI canāt believe youād abandon us just to get laid!ā
āLock the door on your way out!āĀ
///
When a sharp knock echoes across Y/Nās flat, she nearly screams.Ā
Her nerves have been on edge since the last text sheād received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit.Ā
This isnāt her. This isnāt herĀ at all.
Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something sheād never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for herā she could count all the ones sheād had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extentā and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasnāt acquainted to in some shape or formā¦It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.
Itās not that thereās anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your lifeā she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they pleaseā but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. Thisā whatever this isā is a huge step for her; itās the first attempt sheās made to take over her own life and go against the grain sheād been accustomed to her whole existence.Ā
From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months sheād spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home.Ā
That is, until she met Harry seven days ago.Ā
Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to makeā asking someone to trust you when you didnāt even know their last nameā but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young manā with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smileā had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. Sheās stumped on how heād managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. Sheād appreciated it more than sheād let on.Ā
Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didnāt need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows heās more than capable of helping her reach those goals.Ā
Y/N doesnāt think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. Sheād been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger.Ā
In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasnāt difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school.Ā
Theyād met through mutual friends and heād invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasnāt bad, but it wasnāt exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and thatās all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed.Ā
Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadnāt worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all.Ā
When Y/N heard the news that heād cheated on her, it didnāt even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery sheād had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, sheād eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesnāt think she loved him. She loved the idea of himā loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. Theyād grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadnāt been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy.Ā
Y/Nās love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone elseās touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. Sheād mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though sheāll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that itād be funny if it wasnāt so irritating.Ā
Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodoxā yet surprisingly attractiveāfashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. Heād waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. Heād worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradleyās vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if heād known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didnāt know was humanly possible.
And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly.Ā
She repeatedly smooths down the dress sheās wearing, claiming that itās to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, itās to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and sheās rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesnāt fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the cityās weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia.Ā
The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured sheād deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction sheād had with Harry, she can tell heās a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesnāt know why, but thereās a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him.Ā
Y/Nās hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and sheād applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her faceā a result of sweat and Harryās dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals.Ā
Y/N hadnāt been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasnāt versed in advanced hook-up cultureā her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesnāt want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesnāt have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this.Ā
Sheād settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesnāt enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?
Y/N had just finished arranging two glassesā which sheād found at the thrift shop down the street for a stealā onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat.Ā
Ice shoots through her veins. āFuck, fuck, fuck.ā
She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out.Ā Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldnāt be this riled upā heās literally already beenĀ inside her. Thereās pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point.Ā
On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N.Ā
The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gumā which heād popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as alwaysā in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge.Ā
Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when heād applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows heās going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint.Ā
The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days.Ā Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/Nās familiar figure comes into view.
The first thing he notices is the dress.Ā
Fuck, the dress.Ā
Itās nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met.Ā
The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.Ā Ā
As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that sheās not wearing a bra underneath; she doesnāt need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.
Harryās irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girlās look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though itās easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink.Ā
Y/N doesnāt mean to ogle, she really doesnāt. But from the instant heād come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldnāt control it. He just looks so fucking goodā better than last time, which she didnāt think was plausibleā and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly.Ā
Harryās clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, sheād been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water.Ā
The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she canāt make out at this angle.Ā
Harryās collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly.Ā
Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.
āNice to see you again, Disco Ball.āĀ
A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. Sheād forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when heās not actively striving for it.Ā
Y/Nās attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her sheād been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She canāt tear herself away.
After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know heās waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/Nās cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.
āH-Hi. Uhā Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.ā
An odd sense of dĆ©jĆ vu flags in the back of her skull and sheās reminded that this is exactly how theyād met the first time aroundā with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.
The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. Heās just so fit.Ā Ā
Harryās tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesnāt need to be invited in again since sheās already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. āCan I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?ā
The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but itās better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. āYes, come on in! Sorry.āĀ
āYouāre alright, darling.ā The tall vampire steps forward into the mortalās home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. āThank you.ā
Y/Nās grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. āNo problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.āĀ
Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. āWell, I couldnāt leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?ā
A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. āHow generous of you. My hero.āĀ
Far from it, love.
Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. Itās just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he canāt stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories.Ā
āWould you like some wine?ā Y/Nās question carries softly from inside her kitchen. Sheās already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadnāt thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck.Ā
Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. āIād love some.ā
āGreat.ā She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. āLet me justā just get this open.ā
Harryās head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. āWant some help?āĀ
Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. āBe my guest.āĀ
The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldnāt be hot, but it is.Ā
Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/Nās jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers.Ā
āHowā¦?ā Y/Nās owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harryās cocky expression and the object in his hands. āHow did you even...?ā
The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. āGuess you loosened it up for me, Thor.āĀ
She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. āI guess so.ā
Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch.Ā
The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter.Ā
A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who heās associating with. Heās out of Y/Nās league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. Itās so obvious it almost hurts.Ā
Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while sheās sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohlās. It just doesnāt mix, and she finds herself wondering why heād chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day theyād slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isnāt stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floralā
āI like your dress.ā
Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. Sheād been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage.Ā
She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. āOh, thank you! Iāve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.ā
The edges of the vampireās mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. āIt suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.āĀ
Y/Nās belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low itās hardly audible. āThank you. Again. Thought Iād bring it out for a special occasion.āĀ
Harryās eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. āSo Iām a special occasion, now, am I?ā
Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. āMaybe.āĀ
Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. āIāll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.ā
Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/Nās cheeks. āYou really know how to flatter a girl, donāt you?ā
The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle.Ā
He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. āI think weāre both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.āĀ
Y/Nās stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasnāt for Harryās heightened hearing, he would have never known itād happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.
The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeatsā which is gradually rising in intensityā echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again.Ā
āIāve been thinking about you.āĀ
The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and thatās why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. Itās versatile, successful either way.Ā
Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. āYou have?ā
Sheād been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows itās mutual, she doesnāt feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that theyāre on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.Ā Ā
Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. āMmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.ā
His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. āIs that so? And what do I smell like?ā
Harryās response is immediate and confident, almost as if heās spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. āHoney and lavender.āĀ
Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. āThatās oddly specific.āĀ
Harry feels like heās been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic.Ā
He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment heād made had been. It suggests that heās pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesnāt need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesnāt have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone heās only fucked once.Ā
The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. āThen yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, āhm, this reminds me of someoneā¦āā
The slightly endeared expression on Y/Nās face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. āYou fucking perv!āĀ
Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard heās laughing. āIām just being honest!āĀ Ā
āNo, youāre being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!ā Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she canāt keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement.Ā
His laughter is contagious. Itās loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. Itās hard to stay mad at him, though itās not like sheād truly been upset in the first place.Ā
Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/Nās flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. āIf it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.āĀ
āFuck off.ā
Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk.Ā
He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. Sheās not drunk by any meansā not even buzzedā but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. Sheās relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes.Ā
The creature thinks itās proper time he gets what he came for.Ā
āI really am glad you reached out, though.ā Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. āTruly.āĀ
Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. Heād heard it anyways. āOh, are you? Truly?ā
Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets.Ā
āYeah.ā Harryās arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. āI donāt think Iāve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.āĀ
Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that heās nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs.Ā
When she pipes up, itās shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. āYeah, me either. It felt...nice.ā
Harryās irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but sheās too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick?Ā
āIt felt really nice.āĀ
Y/Nās view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. āExtremely nice.āĀ
An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes itās Harryās fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later.Ā
Y/Nās hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesnāt go any further; he wonāt until she explicitly asks for it. Heās a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.
Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesnāt help in calming those motions at all.
āWouldnāt mind making you feel that nice again.āĀ
Y/Nās mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer heās around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; sheās never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man.Ā
When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire.Ā
āI wouldnāt mind it, either.āĀ
Thatās full permission if heās ever heard it.Ā
Harryās other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. āNo panties tonight?ā
The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampireās fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. Itās difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he wonāt get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position.Ā
Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very momentā another unbelievable orgasm.Ā
āSuch a filthy little fucking thing.ā Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. āSāthat how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didnāt even bother to wear anything underneath?ā
Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. āY-Yes.āĀ
A low chuckle rolls from Harryās wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. āFuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?ā
Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. āI just...I just need you.ā
Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. āYou need me now, dāyou? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.āĀ
The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. āSo fucking much, Harry.āĀ
He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/Nās tongue.Ā
When he speaks, itās packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. āDid you think about me the way I thought about you?ā
Y/Nās reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. āY-Yeah. Couldnāt get you out of my head.ā
A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. āAnd whyās that?ā
āBecauseā¦ā The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. āBecause you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.āĀ
The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. āMm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didnāt you?ā
āHad no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.āĀ
A dark chuckle rolls from the creatureās lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. āGod, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?ā
āFuck, y-yes.ā
āWant me to keep going?ā
āPlease.ā
And so Harry keeps going, and he doesnāt stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when heās whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last.Ā
The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighsā as heād fantasized priorā while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives.Ā
Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, āSuch a good girl.ā rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity.Ā
The monsterās voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. āEyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.āĀ
The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else sheās ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. āGotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.āĀ
The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesnāt know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And itās driving him fucking insaneā she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. āLike it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say pleaseā¦Christ, youāre a fucking angel.ā
Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as heās willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. Heād met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesnāt just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though theyāre polars opposites at their coreā sheās timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas heās confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phraseā they fit together better than heād ever care to admit. Theyāre perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs.Ā
As Harry stands thereā fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his earsā he thinks that maybe...maybe heāll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest.Ā
The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest heās ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion heās never quite experienced. They both get what they want and donāt have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.
And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that nightā once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couchā thereās not a single doubt in Harryās mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak.Ā
///
During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. Itās surprising how informational someoneās sex habits can be.Ā
The second week after they had metā and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounterā she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days.Ā
Harry isnāt doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friendās skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesnāt have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, whatās the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle?Ā
His best friend is halfway through his set when Harryās device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/Nās contact beams up at him in return. Heād set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke.Ā
Iām getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.
Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request.Ā
Thatās odd. Last time I was there, you didnāt HAVE a ceiling fan.
Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where sheās employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harryās text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear.Ā
After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harryās already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.
Iām aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. Iāve got a few tabs saved as potentials.Ā
He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.
You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?
Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, heād only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows sheās not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/Nās pride, sheās more than willing to.Ā Ā
I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since youād be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. Weād cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!
We do make quite the team, donāt we?
I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.
A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitchās performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldnāt have wrapped up at a better time.Ā
Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?
Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.
Iām off at 6:45. Should be home by 7.Ā
Iāll see you there, then.Ā
See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist.Ā
Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.
Well, first and foremost, Iām literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, Iām always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.
And at seven on the dot, Harryās outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when itās worth the trouble.
The creature walks up the steps to the mortalās complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather.Ā
He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits.Ā
When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. āDetective.āĀ
The girlās irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. āNice to see you again. Detective.ā
She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor heās grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. Heās casual todayā less jewelry, more comfortable clothesā and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal.Ā
Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/Nās physique tells him everything he needs to know.Ā
Sheās still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests sheād been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. Itās a type of unconventional beauty thatās natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.
He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet.Ā
āI got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.ā He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. āSomething about ceiling fansā¦?āĀ Ā
Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. āYeah, Iām thinking of getting one. Figured itād help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, yāknow?ā
āMmmā¦ā Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. Sheāll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. āIt does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if youāre working up a sweat.āĀ
He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupidās bow. āAbsolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.āĀ
āYeah.ā Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. āIt can work wonders for when youāre all pent up, too. Especially when youāre really tight, which I know for a fact you are.ā
The backs of the girlās knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. Sheād been thinking about him since Friday nightā or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around.Ā
Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and heād giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days.Ā
The sound of Harryās zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever.Ā
āGet undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.āĀ
Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. Sheās open to a lot of stuff heād never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. Sheās into choking, which he adores. Thereās nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. Itās difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he wouldāve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But theyāre in her living room, so he makes do with what he can.Ā
The vampire doesnāt stay over that night, not because he doesnāt want to, but because he promised Niall heād help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isnāt shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls.Ā
Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after heād made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. āIāll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.āĀ
Two days later, Harryās phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone heād assigned just for her.Ā
Heās relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. Heās in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror heās holding before his face. Heād changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but heād kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.
Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?
He had a nagging suspicion heād hear from her today. Itās another Friday night, after all. Heās just happy sheād texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour.Ā
Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.
Donāt let it go to your head. The only thing Iām itching for is your professional opinion.Ā
Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and Iāll be there, yeah?
Sounds good to me, Sherlock.Ā
Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrumā something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesnāt really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. Thereās nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans.Ā
Before he knows it, heās being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/Nās neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that heād toyed with a week prior, and he canāt resist the way his eyes blink crimsonā a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadnāt fed last timeā vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccationā so he surely intends to tonight.Ā
Harryās hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. āAnd here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.ā
āShut up.āĀ
Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time theyāre going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. Itās ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress.Ā
āYou know,ā Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadnāt made her bed this morning and thatās endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. āOut of all the times weāve done thisā which is quite a fewā weāve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.āĀ
Thatās a lie. Heās never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber.Ā
Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. āYeah, youāre right. How counterintuitive.ā
Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didnāt know she found it hot.Ā
His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. āAm I your first?ā
Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. Heās referring to if heās the first person sheās slept with on her new bed in her new home. āYes, you are, actually.āĀ
Harryās juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. āAw, I get to christen your bed with you? Weāre practically married now. Whenās the baby due?āĀ
āGod, youāre a moron.ā Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder.Ā
Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.
The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way sheās objectifying him. He doesnāt mind; he actually lives for it. āAre you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?ā
His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/Nās ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, sheās fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harryās belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but heās still the one pulling the strings.Ā
Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon.Ā She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, sheās barely riding him at all. Heās just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesnāt have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.Ā Ā
His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. āHowās that, darling? Howās that cock feel?ā
Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response.Ā
āTell me.ā He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn.Ā
āIā I canāt. Iāmāā
One of Harryās hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. āYeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.ā
A violent shutter runs through Y/Nās limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harryās eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her.Ā
Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, āYes, please.ā that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck.Ā
When the vampireās hand comes down, itās fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex.Ā
The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and heās lucky sheās too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. āFuck, youāre such a slut for it.āĀ
Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until sheās the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly.Ā
āOh my God, Harryā Iā fuck, justājustā oh!ā
His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. āOh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?ā
Harry feels Y/Nās teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. āLoved it. Loved it so much. WantāWant more. Please, please, please.ā
Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force heās never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. āCan you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?āĀ
āYes, yesā itās so good, Harry. Youāre incredible.ā
āSuch a proper little whore.ā He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. āBegging me to fuck you like one, over and over. Youāve never had it this good, have you?āĀ
āN-No. Youāre the only one who makes me feel like this.āĀ Ā
āHands off.āĀ
āW-What?ā
āHands off.ā
Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as heād instructed. Itās not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, heās going to black out. Heās already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.
āAsk for permission.āĀ
The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard sheās jerking against the bed. āPlease.ā
āPlease what?ā
āPleaseācan Iācan I cum?ā
āāMay I cum.āā The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because itās automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. Itās hard to leave those lessons behind.Ā
Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. āMay I cum? Please?ā
Harryās lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...Itās like a switch flips. When he speaks, itās soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. āYeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.āĀ
That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They donāt have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each othersā lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. Heās always just strung along for the ride.
This is different. Itās static, and thatās all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines arenāt drawn and boundaries arenāt set. But with Y/N, itās like they have a silent understandingā an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. Itās a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and itās an ideal thatā even in deathā took him centuries to learn:
Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked.Ā
///
The third week is when things escalate for the better.Ā
Specifically, Tuesday night. Thatās when the sexting starts.Ā
Itās a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band sheās touring with being on a three week break. Sheād said she wasnāt staying for longā maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell heās bummed about Sarahās short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harryās known him for so long that he could read Mitchās mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged.Ā
The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasnāt as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldnāt understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then.Ā
His best mate had been wrong. Harry doesĀ understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didnāt want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures thatās the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level.Ā
But then again, Harryās perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?
With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesnāt dwell on that; itās none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addictās blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasnāt that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesnāt get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say heās ātoo much of an arrogant dickheadā to be around for an extended period of time. Theyāre right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldnāt be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. Itās best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.
So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that heās practically naked. The sunās already set and itās almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harryās more than happy to put on a show. Heās confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that.Ā
Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he canāt put into words.
Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his fatherās blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling cityās reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold.Ā
Harryās changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him.Ā
The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane.Ā
Harryās not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, heād used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. Heād been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home.Ā
If he had a dollar for every time heās seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him.Ā
The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monsterās phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device.Ā
I need interior design advice.Ā
Iām still a little sore from our last help session. Howād you bounce back so quick?
Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time.Ā
Harryās brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh.Ā
Genuinely?Ā
Yup!
He guesses heāll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. Itās not like he has anything better to do.
Alright, shoot.Ā
Y/N releases the breath sheād been holding in. Thank God heās agreed to help. As much as sheās ashamed to admit it, Harryās really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasnāt managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that sheās been trying extremely hard. She just doesnāt wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. Itās not right and she knows sheād grow to resent it.Ā
So instead, sheād reached out to the one California resident who doesnāt make her skin crawl.Ā
Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall.Ā
Harryās ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry?Ā
Well, let me see it, then. Donāt keep a man waiting, Iām dying to play Property Brothers over here.
A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harryās face drops instantly is almost comical.
Which tapestry fits better? Iām thinking the Van GoghĀ style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I canāt decide.Ā
The vampireās face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. Heās going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback.Ā
ā¦two new tapestries? Did the other one rip orā¦?
What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??
Theyāre not just bad, theyāre worse. Heās going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits.Ā
Theyāreā¦kinda immature, dove. I just thought youād go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall.Ā
Immature?Ā
Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now heās gone and offended her and sheāll probably bite down the next time he puts hisā
Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.
I know you didnāt just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry.Ā
The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/Nās legs.Ā
Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?
That preface makes me think youāre about to chew me out.
Iāll be gentle, I promise. I know itās not our usual dynamic, but Iāll give it a go.
Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks.Ā
Alright, go head.
I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream āconfused teenager trying to find myself.ā But thatās just my opinion. Iām only telling you so you know that Iām probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries.Ā
Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up.Ā
So...the one Iāve had hanging in my room the last three times youāve been overā¦
I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.
Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...Itās sending her.Ā
Well, you know what? Thatās not fair! You canāt judge my house when I havenāt even had the chance to judge yours.Ā
Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play.Ā
Fair enough. Youāll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.
Iād be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise Iāll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. Iāll remove it from my customer contract.
Harry sighs defeatedly. He canāt believe heās giving up his integrity for sex.Ā
Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. Itāll give some perspective.Ā
Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures.Ā
Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/Nās next message comes through, heās mildly surprised to find itās a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harryās leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. Itās not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet.Ā
Heās about to tap back āthe forest oneā when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.Ā Ā
Itās within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadnāt, and now itās burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.Ā Ā
The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position sheād been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadnāt. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue.Ā
Harryās not a pre-teen; heās not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time theyād slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadnāt given her a high enough dosage, or maybe heād marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.
The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skinā¦
Itās enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs.Ā
Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fuckingĀ perfect.Ā
He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.
The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching.Ā
Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.
The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment sheād unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that isĀ literally weighing on himā he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh.Ā
His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives.Ā
Did you watch your video before you sent it?
Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark?Ā
The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. Sheās such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache.Ā
Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think youāll be surprised with what you find.
Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesnāt have to rewatch the video. Sheās fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. Sheās only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when youāre too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief?Ā
The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that sheās watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.
Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.
Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.
Itās fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and itās nothing I havenāt seen before. Could go south if it were someone else.Ā
Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where itāll take her.Ā
Youāre absolutely right, Iām so sorry.Ā
Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesnāt want her to feel bad; itās not like heās angry about this. Heās hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.
I just think itās funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants.Ā
Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if theyāre alone. Itās one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants.Ā
Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where heās clad in only his underwear, as well.
TouchƩ.
Exactly.Ā
A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situationās become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesnāt take it the wrong way.Ā
I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, itās only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?
Harryās jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. āYou clever little minx. Bet it wasnāt even an accident.ā
You did it on purpose, didnāt you?
Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.
Maybe.
The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy sheād pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. Itās hot.Ā
Alright, lāll bite. Tick for tack.Ā
The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. Itās not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally.Ā
Itās a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harryās lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. Thatās to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and theyāre one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background.Ā
As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when itās covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination.Ā
Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.
Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. Thatās not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish.Ā
Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when heād first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.
Youāre absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes.Ā
You read my mind.
Y/Nās next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harryās teeth, eyes glinting red.
Itās a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. Sheās laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He canāt stop staring. He physically canāt pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever.Ā
Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. Itās been so long since sheās sent a risky photo like that, she canāt help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadnāt met?
She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.
God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.
All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. Sheās happy that he enjoyed it, and sheās thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men donāt care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harryās enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going.Ā
You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours.Ā
Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it.Ā
Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?
For hours, Harry. Iād literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.
āJesus fucking Christ.ā Harryās broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure.Ā
Harryās next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core.Ā
The boyās thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest heās gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she noticesā specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that sheād got him riled up enough that heās leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right.Ā
Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth.Ā
Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesnāt want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what sheās doing, how sheās fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now.Ā
Itās almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen.Ā
This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites heād left only a few days prior. Theyāre all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night theyād shared. Itās art at its most prestigious, if heās ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit.Ā
Harryās own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders.Ā
Fuck, sheās driving him mental. Thereās only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance.Ā
Iām going to call you.
Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that sheāll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but sheāll get to hear him cum, too. Sheāll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person.Ā
The mortalās heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. āH-Hello?ā
Harryās words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.
āFlip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.ā
#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles smut#smut#harry styles series#vampire!harry#harry styles#1d fanfiction#1d fic#one direction fanfiction#one direction smut#one direction fic#1d smut#ysijwa#harry styles one shot#harry styles dirty one shot#harry styles dirty imagine#harry styles dirty fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry x y/n#harry x reader#harry styles au#vampire au
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Little Oblivions- Julien Baker
āāāāā / āāāāā
January 2nd, 2022
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TW: Talk of Suicide, addiction
Iām a very avid fan of Phoebe Bridgers. Who isnāt? I mean, āMotion Sicknessā is absolutely sick and the lyricism in great. Through Phoebe, I found Boygenius, an absolute powerhouse of a supergroup comprised of Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker. I went straight from Phoebeās discography to Lucyās and for some reason, I put off listening to Julienās. Iām not sure why I did this, because I realize now I was definitely missing out.
Julienās lyricism is absolutely fucking insane. All of the Biblical imagery and just the regular imagery is enough to send any of my former English teachers into a coma. This album was pure perfection and my Cancer moon had me crying throughout the entirety of the album. Every track is just gorgeous.
The first track, āHardlineā details Bakerās trouble with addiction and relapsing. Deciding that the relapse is inevitable, Baker realizes this and rather than fighting it decides to start āasking for forgiveness in advance/For all the future things Iāll destroy/That way I can ruin everything/When I do, you donāt get to act surprised.ā This line absolutely hit me hard. Also the line about splitting the difference between medicine and poison. Baker realizes this addiction is poison and is affecting her personal relationships, but she needs the numbness that comes with the drug.
The second track, āHeatwaveā is a total bop and carries the same strong imagery thatās implemented throughout all of the tracks. Her detailing the āgruesome beautyā she sees in every face. Growing up as a conservative Christian, Baker recognizes the Godliness in everyoneās face but realizes that underneath all of it, humans are ugly. This concept of ugliness and sin comes up a lot. I love the bit about wrapping Orionās belt around her neck and kicking the chair out from under her. This is such a creative way of talking about suicide.
I loved āFaith Healerā and the equating of heroin as this sortāve magical cure or āsnake oil,ā tying it back to āHardline.ā This album feels like a book, each song building off of the other like chapters and adding onto the plot. The line about the smoke alarm going off, but nobody coming to put out the fire (i.e. her) was devastating.
I loved āRelative Fictionā just for the line about if Baker didnāt have a mean bone in her body, she would still find a way to hurt those she loves, so her pretending to be this good person is a moot point in the long run because she still manages to damage those she cares for. I canāt explain this song nearly as well as she can, so hereās this:
A personal favorite of mine is āBloodshotā because it details two broken people that are so lonely, theyāre willing to overlook all of their flaws and romanticize them in order to fill whatever role they need. I really related to this song.
āSong in Eā I think takes my personal cake. I was hardcore sobbing when it came on. This idea that itās easier for the people you love to just shun you and hurt you because itās easier to see them angry than disappointed. It makes you feel like a shitty person when you hurt them and then you get second chance after second chance and then when you cry in front of them it feels manipulative.
Overall- this album was great and I think it might be my favorite album from the Boygenius members (I canāt decide if I like it more or the same as Punisher, but I definitely related to this album more).
Thank you!!!
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Billy Hargrove NSFW Alphabet
Stranger Things Taglist: @tatesimper
Warnings: Mentions of Drugs (Cannabis), Mentions of Abuse from his father
A = Aftercare (What theyāre like after sex)
If you were another pointless one night stand then I think he wouldnāt really care for cuddling you, maybe offers your a cigarette afterwards. But if you were in a relationship then Billy would be more affectionate, stroking your back as you lay on his chest. Often asking if youāre okay and making sure he didnāt hurt you, no matter what he always smiles after sex. Always.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partnerās)
Like a typical guy, his favourite part about himself is his dick. Or his arms/abs, heās worked hard to get his body where it is so he liked to show it off at any chance he gets.
Billyās favourite part of his partners is their ass, heās such an ass man and heās always squeezing and pinching it. Not even caring if the both of you are in public, itās almost to show everyone else your taken.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basicallyā¦ Iām a disgusting person)
As much as a fuck boy he is the boy is smart and never leaves anywhere without a condom. Billy always carries more than one in the pocket of his wallet, he rarely cums inside of anyone just incase or pregnancy (if youāre able to get pregnant) or STDās. Billy wouldnāt mind coating his lover in his cum though, cumming all over their chest or breasts (if you have them). Also would adore to cum on your ass, he sees it as him marking his territory.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He steals your underwear, keeps them in his pocket and laughs to himself when you go on about not being able to find them. Billy is secretly an underwear sniffer and you canāt tell me otherwise on the matter.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what theyāre doing?)
Heās very experienced in the bedroom department, he knows how to get you to your orgasm and wonāt stop until youāve came at least twice before he fucks you. Billy enjoys sex very much as it allows him to get his pent up anger out without doing any serious damage.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)
On all fours because he likes to grip your ass while he fucks you, but Billy wouldnāt be opposed to you riding him. But just because youāre on top doesnāt mean that youāre in control.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
He isnāt really goofy/humorous during sex, but if something happens like a funny noise/ugly orgasm face then you two would most likely giggle about that. But otherwise heās rather serious as he wants to bring you the most pleasure he can, not make you laugh.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Have you seen this boys hair? He doesnāt manscape, maybe trims what he has below the belt to keep it under control, but he never goes bald. Billy wants to feel and look like a man so he never shaves everything off.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspectā¦)
Like I said before it depends on if youāre a one night stand or if you two are in a relationship, heās romantic for the right person, rarely shows his vulnerable side to just anyone.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
Billy masturbates any chance he can get if heās single or by himself, he often uses porn magazines or rents a porn VHS video to watch while he pleasures himself. If Billy is with someone, just picturing them or having a photo of his lover near us enough to help him jerk off.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Goodness where do we start? Heās got a few kinks: Public Sex, Degradation, Itās not a kink but he likes when his hair is being pulled, a slight daddy kink but would rather his partner scream his name, Masturbating with his partner as they watch porn together.. the list goes on.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
The Pool, Showers, His Car, Your House, The Woods... although that last one is questionable to say the least.
Anywhere that isnāt at his own house so he doesnāt have to face his abusive father.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
Boy doesnāt need much motivation, all his lover has to do is bend down and heās ready to go anywhere anytime. But the one thing that does send blood rushing to his cock, is when he sees you sucking on a lolly. His mind goes straight to the gutter.
N = NO (Something they wouldnāt do, turn offs)
Anything with bodily fluids would be a big no for him (unless it was spit or cum), Billy also would like to slap you on the face. It didnāt matter if you were into that or you asked him too, Billy wouldnāt due to the abuse his father displayed towards him. He wouldnāt want to hurt you like that.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
Billy loves blowjobs, he would often ask for head when heās driving for the āthrillā. Gripping your hair and bobbing your head until heās practically hitting the back off your throat, but he also loves giving him oral. He could spend hours between your legs just taking in how you taste, wanting more and more until your begging him to stop. He also likes it when you sit on his face, having you grind against his tongue.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on the type of sex and who heās with, heās sometimes slow and sensual but nine times out of ten youāre getting your ass spanked with him pounding his cock inside you.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Heās up for quickies if the two of you are between jobs, Billy fucking you in the changing rooms while heās on a break. It he prefers proper sex where he can take his time with your body, taste and feel you completely.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Billy loves public sex so risking getting caught by someone turns him on a lot, he loves making you moan loudly to see if anyone hears him fucking you. Heās willing to try some things once, if he doesnāt like it then you two donāt do it again but if he likes it.. boy youāre in for one hell of a night.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they lastā¦)
He can go around 2/3 rounds due to him working out a lot, his stamina is pretty good. Billy wonāt cum unless you do (unless heās punishing you then he cums and deprives you until youāre begging). Billy can hold back from cumming for a while, but the first time you two had sex he nearly came almost instantly which is something you wonāt let go.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Billy isnāt one for toys as he enjoys to pleasure you with his tongue/fingers and cock. He wouldnāt say no to a vibrator or a cock ring if you really wanted to try but he draws the line at a dildo. The only cock he wants inside you is his own.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Teasing is his middle name. Billy adores having you right on the edge of an orgasm before pulling away completely, he likes to hear you whine and beg to cum. He doesnāt like to be teased but he loves teasing his lover, if you ever tried to tease him heād have you pinned down almost instantly.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Billy can get pretty loud when he wants too but he mostly moans against your skin to muffle it (heās somewhat embarrassed by the noises he makes). Sometimes he grunts but heās mostly a growler and moans loudly when he cums.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
High sex. Thereās no way this boy doesnāt do weed, with the effect of the cannabis in both of your systems and the emotions of feeling horny would be the best sex you could ask for. Billy would most likely order pizza afterwards.
X = X-Ray (Letās see whatās going on in those pants, picture or words)
Iād say heās a decent size, nothing too overwhelming where youāre scared it wouldnāt fit. 7.5 inches, but he has more of a girth than anything. Also not to go into too much detail but he also has big balls, theyāre often slapping against you when he fucks you which only adds to the pleasure.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Through the fucking roof, very very high. There isnāt a day that goes by that the two of you havenāt had sex, and if there is for whatever reason, heās the type of guy to complain about āblue balls.ā
Z = ZZZ (ā¦ how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
After heās had his cigarette after sex, Billy usually doesnāt fall asleep very quickly; it depends how rough/rampant the sex was. He usually showers first but if it was tiring then the boy would fall asleep after heās smoked.
#stranger things gif#stranger things imagine#stranger things#billy hargrove#Billy Hargrove gif#Billy Hargrove imagine
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The Boltons by Michele Clapton
So I received a super nice ask of an anon saying that my post of Theonās costumes from Micheleās book had been super helpful to them (and omg guys, Iām so happy that you liked it and have found it helpful/informativeĀ šš)
Anon asked if there was something on Ramsay (specifically his wedding outfit) and there is! And itās literally about his wedding outfitĀ š¤£š¤£ So, hoping Iām not committing a crime or copyright infringement by making another post [please donāt sue me, I only want to contribute to the fandom], here is the section for the Boltons! Fair warning: itās super short and mostly focused on the Black Wedding.
Ps. Excuse the shitty photos, I took them with my phone cause this book is not scanner material hahaĀ
RAMSAY BOLTON
1. Father and sonāRoose Bolton (Michael McElhatton) and Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon)āat Ramsayās wedding.
House Bolton is a Northeastern family whose identity is founded on brutality. Known for skinning their enemies, their house sigil shows a flayed man hanging upside down. But in designing costumes for the Boltons, I wanted to create looks that would partially conceal their viciousness. They are the sort of people who would want to lull their victims into a false sense of security, only revealing their true natures just before the killing blow. Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon) is the illegitimate son of Roose Bolton (Michael McElhatton) and one of the most vicious characters ever to appear in the series. Born Ramsay Snow, he is desperate to attain legitimacy and will go to any lengths to prove his worthiness as the heir to the house. Still, I always chose to underplay Ramsayās sadism when it came to his costumes. I felt it would be too obvious to dress him in leather. Instead, he chooses to use his clothing to disarm those around him. Thereās a softness to his wardrobe that is deceptive and stands in sharp contrast to his nearly unfathomable cruelty.
I think that comes through most clearly in the costume I designed for Ramsayās wedding to Sansa. We dyed the fabric a rich chocolate brown, a color that is very much within the Northern palette. The ensemble is not unlike something Robb Stark might have worn except for the subtle organic pattern on Ramsayās silk brocade doublet, which is more ornate than anything we would have created for Robb. Ramsay is dressing as a nobleman, a wealthy lord; he wants to convey his status to all those around him. By marrying Sansa, he becomes the Lord of Winterfell and gains the elevated position heās long sought, though he holds his title for only a short while. Outmaneuvered in the Battle of the Bastards by Jon Snow and his armies, Ramsay suffers a crushing defeatāand later an ugly death.
2. Ramsayās wedding costume includes the silk doublet, which has a high collar and is paired with traditional menās skirts and trousers, all in shades of brown.
3. Lil close-up
ROOSE BOLTON
4. Roose BoltonĀ (Michael McElhatton) in his wedding costume.
The head of House Bolton, Roose (Michael McElhatton) initially fights for Robb Stark in his battle to preserve the North from the influence of the Lannisters. But Bolton later joins forces with the powerful house and becomes a key conspirator in the Red Weddingādelivering the dagger through the heart that kills Robb.
In designing costumes for the Boltons, I dressed Roose and Ramsay in a very similar way, like a father-and-son double act. Roose wears the traditional Northern noblemanās garb, a doublet and skirts in earthy browns with a fur-lined cloak held in place by leather straps. But I always felt that he should look rather dapper somehow. The color of his costumes is slightly warmer than his sonās. Even though heās a murderer, heās not quite as cold as Ramsay. I donāt think he ever understands the depths of his sonās brutalityāthat is, until Ramsay stabs him to death.
5. Roose Boltonās wedding costume includes a long-line doublet made from brown fabric with gold accents.
6. TOP Brown leather was used for the trim on the costume Roose Bolton wears to his sonās wedding ceremony, including the collar.
7. BOTTOM The trim extends to the shoulder and features a tie detail.
8. An alternate view of the shoulder detail of the wedding costume.
9. A narrow leather belt was worn at the waist as part of the wedding costume.
10. Detail of the print on the fabric of Rooseās wedding costume.
And thatās it for the Boltons! Short as their reign of the North but I hope it helps as well!! And Nonny, hope you find it, this oneĀ wasĀ specially for you!Ā ššš»
#Game of Thrones#Costume Design#Michele Clapton#Ramsay Bolton#Roose Bolton#Ramsay Snow#Boltons#Black Wedding#Iwan Rheon#Michael McElhatton#Sansa Ramsay Wedding
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