#also fuck tags all my homies hate tags (I say while i tag my work because i need the validation of this getting out there)

[sehtoast]

Writer Tag

Thanks for the tag @venus-haze <3

How many works do you have on AO3? 29

What's your total AO3 word count? 230k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tender Threads

Satisfy Me

One Big Wet Spot

Say Please

The Hand That Feeds

(All Homelander fics) ^

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Most of the time, but lately I haven't had the energy or the time. My social battery is pretty fucked, but I do read every single one of them and love them

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? So it's technically unpublished, but it basically ends with Ben (my oc) sentencing himself to die pretty painfully alongside Homelander with that thing that got revealed in Gen V. If you know you know

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Honestly, Envy.

Do you write crossovers? I've done an AU crossover for the same fandom, but not really

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Most of the hate I get is in my tumblr inbox. I haven't really done/said anything about it bc no one really wants to see or hear about it tbh, but I've gotten a fair amount of shit for pairing homie with a guy and then also more for pairing him with a trans guy. I think the only ao3 hate i ever got was barely even hate, more like someone bitching that my tender threads formatting wasn't to their liking bc it's Y/n formatted

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yessir yessir. Honestly just whatever i'm vibin with

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i'm aware although i don't think i've written anything steal-worthy

Have you ever had a fic translated? no, but @anon-nee has been my personal jesus christ in helping me make sure my english to german translations in tender threads has been accurate. love you nonnums <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before? technically no, but @homelanderbutbig did a collab with me and made this to pair with a fic i wrote, which i feel like is co-creation so i'm gonna say yes anyway. love you HBB <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? honestly i don't really have one, unless i can count my ocxcanon ship in which case it's benlander

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? i have a depowered homelander fic where ben answers the door one day and ryan, now in his late teens, is there to finally see homie again after all those years went by. i adore the concept but i'm like NEVER in the mindset i need to actually write something like that

What are your writing strengths? yall got strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses? all of them

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i think it's fine so long as there's clarification shortly after for the readers who may not understand, and also that you've somehow gotten it cross checked by someone who actually speaks the langauge so ensure you're not just saying some wild shit. but ultimately do whatever makes you happy idk bro i don't make the rules

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Prometheus! i was am down so bad for david omg

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? astarion/tav. i wanna write something sooooo bad but i just can't get in the headspace for it

What's your favorite fic you've written? probably satisfy me because the role swap was incredibly fun and it's REALLY fucking cool to unbind homelander from his own behavioral patterns and manifest them into a reader's concept. like, of everything i've written, i could most clearly imagine everything that happened in that fic and i'd find myself grinning like a sick fuck while writing about literally eviscerating a man's chest cavity lmao

No pressure tags: @blindmagdalena @hom3landr @irenadel @slasher-smasher and anyone else who wants to participate

[plasticfangtastic]

Can we be lonely together? Ch. 8

A Homelander X Stalker! reader

This is a G/N reader fic, a slow burn fic and as off now almost 100 page novella at least according to the google doc... oh and also a Supe! reader fic. Long chapter ahead!!!

Author note: I'm too self indulgent but i promise the ending is coming soon. might have the next chapter done by the end of the wk, but work is wearing me down mentally. I will edit one day UwU Previous chapters in the #my fic tag in me blog

Sypnosis: You've become enamored with Vought Number 1 hero and will do anything to gain his affections... he just won't like the lenghts you took to get him to like you.

R18+ blood, murder and cannibalism mention, light smut, S.A. mention. Homie is a little OOC

Chapter 8

Canapes for Cannibals.

Trembling with fear, watching your eyes water, I feel the sting of your grip as you try removing my hands off your face, stammering your whimpers, clutching at me unsure of how much strenght to give.

“Are you even real?” Your voice is crumbling– I don’t need this… I… I fucked up… he hates me, and now I’m seeing things” your voice a broken mess.

Lonesome tears cleansed your cheeks better than I ever could.

“I’m right here. I… I am right here, Homelander. Mi sol…”

“No!” The leather of your gloves squeaking as it cracks my wrist, my fingers turning blue as I wince into my teeth– What are you doing here? Thought you were fucking your fancy journo fucko!”

I could feel the sound of your thoughts coming back to me, muffled echoes from across the street, pedestrians around us too loud to understand what you’re saying, this building too busy. 

I couldn’t help cupping your face, leaning closer wanting to kiss you– to comfort you.

“You’re my last, remember– why would I look for anybody else, John? If I don’t expect to survive you– Now tell me what happened? Why did you came home looking like this…?”

You nodded your head reluctantly, softening your grip, watching my fingers regain their color.

Watching me like I’m a stranger, wishing for me to be a mere hallucination. 

“He hates me…”

“He was probably startled… now go and get all of this off, and I’ll go check on your boy.”

“What the fuck do you know about being a parent!? Or Ryan!?”

More than you, if I am honest– I’ll admit I thought that.

“John. Anybody would be frightened if you showed up covered in guts… you got some pancreas in your hair.”

The way my voice stood still, so coldy that it didn’t seemed natural anymore, you thought it was rehearsed, it unsettled you.

“Not you? Used to seeing guts?” You chuckled, taking a step back from me forcing a stiff laugh from between your teeth– you… you’re a piece of work. You toy me around and then act worried, showing up in my house unnanouce saying you want to help me! I don’t need your bullshit!! It's not like I’m your boyfriend! Aren’t I just a fucktoy!? Who the fuck are you!? Who are you really!?”

You shouted. I am sure even my neighbors heard your bellows.

So I offered you some truths to ease your weary soul, you wanted anything to distract you from your own mess, after all and I always indulged you.

“I don’t consider myself a serial killer but legally speaking I could qualify as such.” I ignored you moving to the bathroom, not bothering to raise my voice while I picked towels– career criminals more like it… after I ran away from my foster home– back when I was a teen. I met some mobsters, and they helped me achieve my full potential. Don’t get me wrong, they helped me get through community college and stuff, as long as I did my job of course, but that’s back before my knees got too old for my age.”

You stood still even as I handed you the towels.

“I can tell you all about my rough upbringing after you stop using me as an excuse to ignore the actual issue upstairs. I fucked up. I should’ve been here instead of wasting time with Kent, and I’m sorry.” Now I’m the one whimpering inside my own grave– I’m not a good person… John… I’ve hurt people just to keep my belly full. For fun. For no reason. But always on purpose, why would you want someone like me around?” my stomach sank– I don’t deserve to love you.”

It all made sense at this moment, what I wanted to fight the most against.

This attachment that took hold of me with the same intensity as a head-on collision on the freeway.

“I came ‘cuz I wanted to apologize… that’s why I brought” I moved away from you doing my darndest to not look at your face, or listen to you. Picking up my desserts– I know you don’t care for Ice cream but… forget it. Just clean up and I assure you the kid is fine.”

He was fine, just embarrassed about his outburst.

“Is that your superpower? Telepathy?”

“Being a tech-wiz isn’t enough in this economy… you need a master degree just to get minimum wage.” I place the snacks on your coffee table– but yeah. You two have been right a couple times…”

“You two…? What are you talking about?” How cute seeing you try to hide it.

“Your friend… your father, mother and brother all-in-one package. Homelander… the one that kept you safe back in the bad room.” I murmured while heading to the nearest mirror, catching your bloody reflection– this guy. I see him… just like you do.”

“Hi John… Hi Homelander… Do you have a real name? ‘cuz I’ll just call you Jon, or would you prefer Jean? Actually Homie should be fine.”

Must’ve looked stupid waving at the mirror, my eyes seeing an absence of movement but superimposed was the sight of that other you awkwardly moving its hand side to side.

“You really didn’t even hesitate from the get go. Talking to us both… is like you didn’t want to hide it while saying nothing”

“I didn’t. You don’t like liars.”

“And yet…” You squeeze the stuffing out of the couch– you lied to me. You went out of your way to hurt me!"

“I was protecting you.”

“You call this protecting me?”

You point at the dozen bags and wet buckets around us.

“I wasn’t ready to let you know ‘bout my powers! I had to make sure things around us were perfect before I told you! Is that so hard to get!?”

“You don’t get to make that decision. You brainwashed me! erased my memories!”

“That’s a bit rich coming from you!”

We both stared at each other while the meat rot around us.

"I would've loved you the same... I would've been happier with you if I knew from the start. He would've been happier too..."

"You say that... but not even my parents wanted me... nobody ever has... because I'm not intune with people... I am voyeur. and sooner than later I would've wore you down."

“Not that it matters” 

Wish you hadn’t made eye-contact with me, catching that white cloud washing over your baby blues.

“Forget the last minute. And get cleaned up John one and two… I’ll be here so calm down.”

I know my voice sounds like it’s underwater, a blanket covers you, your heartbeat pauses and restarts with a calmed steady beat, a wave of calmness washing you, the blur in your eyes fades completely returning me the eyes I’ve craved so often.

“I don’t want your apologies.”

“I’ll leave. Is basque cheesecake– not too sweet I promise.” I wanted to let you keep those memories but at least I’ve said it outloud  ‘just keep the bad to make this easier for me’ I thought to myself–  Thank you for offering me the cabin.”

I gave the other you a glimpse, wishing I could talk to this one instead, as I made my way out your house, putting the key you gifted me back by the hall table.

“You think I’m a serial killer, too? I killed lots of people… I let a whole plane fall into the ocean. I killed a congressman, I had a wannabe VP assassinated, I killed Madelyn and Noir and I might kill that cuck wearing Noir’s suit– and I loved them both. I killed people who flirted with my property, I killed a guy just for fucking up my coffee, I killed my teacher! The first time I got laid” You chuckled stiffly– I was 15 and they wanted me to develop properly, no jerking off for me! So they got me… I guess an escort…? They told me I had to do it! and after I was done-- like 30 seconds later… she just had to laugh… so I squeezed her neck until it resembled a straw, the third time I fucked somebody– I panicked because well fucking men is wrong. I killed a bunch of hostages the first time they let me out, and so many… many… fucking worthless cocksuckers.”

Your voice wavering, spitting quickly your confession feeling your mouth painfully dry. Your chest heavy but your mind was being cleansed– I had become a confessional booth without being a saintly man of the cloth to absolve you.

“Do you feel bad about it? I feel bad sometimes… not about all of them… just some of them. But I still sleep soundly from time to time.”

“Noir. I killed him when all he wanted was to protect me… my father… he was… bad.” The memory makes you whimper, your eyes red as your lips twitched– I loved him… How could I do that to him? The plane I could’ve steered– maybe? I dunno… I was afraid I would fuck it up again with Madelyn and the board! and this fucker” You pointed at your clothes– because it made Ryan upset with me!”

“I don’t care then. I knew you killed people… I stole some of your files.”

“If I didn’t feel bad would you care?”

“I would be surprised if that was the case.”

“... You don’t think I’m a bad person? Unredeemable garbage?”

“You’re bad but I think you weren’t always trying to be bad… I don't think I ever thought I could be anything but bad... so I’m just as bad… maybe worse. I had a choice, and I always picked the wrong ones…”

“I picked bad ones… always… until now nobody's opinion mattered, they encouraged it and covered it, so why bother to change… and now I want to change for my son– but I can’t.”

You stood there looking so frail.

“I don’t think that’s true. You could still change… I think a part of you still wants to do good, even if you aren’t sure what that might be… me? I dunno what I’m gonna do now.” I tried to forcibly laugh to try to ease the tension– any suggestions? What should I do?”

“Love me… please.” Your hand catches my shoulder– If you don’t mind all my bad… I won’t mind your bad.”

Your kiss tasted like iron, pushing me against the wall, your hands dirtying my cheeks without care. Your lips pushing me and pulling me, clumsily dancing as you try to force your affection-- our tango was one sided but I soon gave in, I hesitated kissing you back but I had no self-control. 

Wanting to make a home in your lips I held you until we matched.

“I love you. I love you, Homelander… I love you, John. Mi sol... if you let me... can I love you?” 

"Love me... that's all I ask of you..."

We both laughed against each other, I never been happier than at that moment– not that I could recall anyhoo.

“I go get change… your shirt…”

“Is okay… I got layers.”

Watching you obey my awful little command, I headed upstairs, your Son’s mind beating itself, I threw my dirty jumper down the rail after cleaning most of your leftovers off my face, feeling the crash incomming.

All I needed was to hold on for a couple more minutes.

My powers were a mess. I wished I was better at this… a supe that struggles to control their powers… pathetic. I reached your son’s placing the peace offering by the slit of the open door, He’s watching me carefully, pretending to be asleep, but he feels far more predatory than you at this moment.

“Hey Ryan… is me… hope everything is okay. Your dad brought you something.” I sounded very awkward– Hey bud he really didn’t mean to scare you…”

“I know.” He moves fast– seems he’s developing too quickly. I heard him thud against the door within the second– He’s upset isn’t he?”

“Your father is a very sensitive man… delicate even… is not your fault he just thinks he hurt you.”

Ryan watched me in the most uneasy of ways, I could tell I was falling out of favor, he had heard some of our conversation downstairs with little red sparkles in his eyes.

“Can I open this door? I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Still a child, he meekly opened the door eyeing the ice cream pint before me, and unlike you he was easier on my neurons.

A cloudy haze thicker than I've ever seen engulfed his sight.

“Be a good child, have your cake and have a heart-to-heart with daddy… then go to sleep. Sleep soundly, Ryan.”

“Sure…” 

Staying quiet, I got away from your kid, your mind still mellow and both of you over the moon. 

“He seems alright” 

I whispered, surprised to see smoke coming out of your towel as you rather viciously towel-dried your hair, based on the trail of dirty towels behind, you wanted every microscopic dot of blood off your person before letting your kid catch a whiff, altho I’ve never seen a towel be set alight by friction alone.

“How do you cut your hair?”

You raise an eyebrow, combined with your playful smile you seemed to enjoy this question.

“Very sharp scissors and on my own, straight razor for my face– just needs a bit of pressure.”

“Cool. Altho I don’t think your maid would appreciate you burning the towels– Ryan is eating so maybe join him.”

“What Maid?”

“Ms. Cha? The lady that’s been cleaning your house for the last twenty years.”

I laid down on your couch, feeling the inevitable.

“I… I never noticed. Twenty years!?”

“If it makes you feel better, she thinks you’re less messy than her kids, and you leave your shit covered in blood all the time…”

“Really?”

That made you happy. I watched you fly to the next floor

“Twenty years!? How?”

Here’s my favorite part.

Almost breaking my neck as I trip on your mess, I can hear you sussurating– your conversation is klutzy and gawky, neither party able to convey properly, I wished I could say I cared about what you two were saying but I was busy puking my guts, my head finally permitted to file a formal complaint against me, between scallops and my bloodied nose I could barely crawl to the bath-tub soaking my face under the faucet, my brain on fire.

Falling unconscious to the sound of your apologies. 

Watching your memories I knew you found me close to drowning, my nose an inch or two above water as I just sat in the heated pink pool before you came in and threw me into the floor checking on my pulse with your hands for some reason.

Walking up in your bed with damp hair, your ears focusing on me.

You don’t ask questions, just studying faded marks in between my toes, you could smell Compound V in my veins even if it had been weeks since I last took it. 

“Still taking heroin?” you ask, indulging in a lie for once in your life– if you’re going to be around my kid I need you clean. You got any idea how bad it would reflect on me if the press got a hold of your little habit.”

My head is pounding with the sounds of this building, down to the thoughts of mices and their everyday worries, your boy sounds asleep dreaming of owning a pair of dogs, and here is you picturing a different version of me-- I could tell you could heard the sound of my swollen brain and the discomfort in my throat, dried blood flaking inside my nostrils, I nodded.

“I killed Roman. I followed you during your date then I found Roman.”

I was speechless.

“How did you do it?”

“His driver was taking him somewhere and I made the car swerve, got in front of it just in case the tree wouldn’t kill them… the blood was from the driver smashing against me.” You pause to play with my hair– he was alive… and I just broke his neck.”

“Liar.”

“I might’ve scared them a bit… so they could go fifty or eighty over the speed limit.”

“That’s better. You made it look like an accident, right? No proof you were there.”

“I thought you would be more upset.”

“My head hurts too fucking much right now to care… now I need you to tell me word for word everything that you did so I can make sure it looks like a fucking accident.”

“I have it covered… not my first rodeo, babe.”

You kissed me not caring about the smell on my breath, shoving yourself further into the blankets forcing yourself into my arms, there’s a smoky smell to your hair but not a burnt end on sight.

“You don’t need to meet that journo anymore. You don’t have to leave Vought and you can stop worrying about that guy coming after you.” kissing me more– now you can focus on important things. Us for example.”

“Assuming you don’t go to prison this time.” I could see the movie in your head, my life in a prairie dressed in pretty clothes, my hair a little messier than usual, and the sound of the stove sizzling, there’s another kid pulling at my clothes and we have a dog barking on the front porch while Ryan and you read your favorite book “Fight Club” together– John…”

“I’ll protect you from now on… I’m a superhero. I’m the fucking definition of a Superhero! I don’t wanna hear about Roman ever again, or your side-hustles! From now on we can be together. So call off whatever you had with the journalist.”

“Maybe after we have dinner with him and his husband.”

“Why would I do that?”

“My friend Dolores is unveiling the restaurant’s new menu now that she’s the new head chef… she’s aiming for her Michelin, you see… and me and Kent are going… if my future husband was so kind as to support me while I support my best friend I would greatly appreciate it, is a big night for her–

Your mouth looked smaller than your eyes, the way you lifted yourself pushing me down, your jaw stammering, your heart so loud that it’s all you can hear in your head. 

“--you just killed one of your biggest competitors, and one of the richest men in the country… for me. Nobody I’ve ever known would do such a thing for me…  I should marry you if you let me. If I could... could I?”

There’s a nice shade of coral colouring your eyes and the sheets around us, for a second you lost control of your blinkers.

This must’ve have been the perfect day for crying, you seemed so happy as you made love to me, so hungrily, I didn’t need my powers to know I fired something in you, not once had you held me so tenderly, not once did you treat me so kindly, Your hunger and the emptiness you were so familiar with faded away, I could feel my own clinging as I watched you picturing our wedding day… you were so corny… it was beyond cute.

From this night forward things went rosy.

Even those beneath you could see that your mood had changed, most brushing it to you enjoying parenthood, it had been good for your ratings and the company’s image-- after all. 

You suddenly appeared more approachable and relatable, the public pondering on your struggles as a single parent became a popular topic seeing just how admirable you were, and Ryan was sweet every kid wanted to be like him and everybody wanted a piece of him, soon he would be on lunchboxes if you gave your blessing to put him in a suit yet as eager as you were nothing they had given you was perfect fit for your son, and people called you a DILF left and right rubbing your ego just the way you liked. 

But in private I got to enjoy a happier side of you, you still had your bite and snark, your awful habits but now it seemed you felt at peace with your demons, I didn't judge them, I accepted your brutality and appreciated my efforts to conceal such unpleasantries from your son.

You joined me (albeit begrudgingly) for degustations, your palette unrefined for a man used to eating fine cuisine, for having two private chefs you sure had issue understanding the art, but watching you try to make sense of foams, foods disguised as other foods, or the depth and story presenting itself on this fifteen course dinner was exciting, your stomach full by the sixth plate, so it was even more exciting to see you do your darnest to stomach this meal, just to make sure I looked good, after all there was press around us.

You interacted courtly, you’ve been trained well… but behind your poised smile you did your best to interact with Kent disguising perfectly your murderous gaze, having your expectations subverted by the presence of his socialite millionaire husband, surprised that Kent was a homosexual... but that failed to dissuade your jealousy.

But you did behave.

You spend time in my home, our relationship continue away from the public eye, you had began looking forward to dinner, I would cook for you no matter how tired I was, you made sure to let The Deep know not to overwork me, forcing my surviving coworkers to pick of after me, I enjoyed the special treatment, I enjoyed our secret dates, I somewhat enjoyed being taken gallantly in your arms to fancy european addresses as we broke borders laws, our outings and picnics in secret with your son, like having fresh porchetta sandwiches while picnicking at the stomach churning hills of Monte Baldo with Ryan.

So I behaved too.

A little bit.

I felt guilty putting a bug in Ryan’s phone and his computer, but I only did so I could make sure he was doing alright in his new school to make sure how to support you better. 

I felt a little guilty when I put a bug on Ashley’s phone to make sure she wasn’t going to betray you suddenly, your ears could only listen to so much and with my powers a secret I had to actually have proof of things, just in case.

In my spare time I would sit in front of my screens just watching and processing audio files, for you.

I would watch and replay hundreds of images, until my eyelids fought with me, your every move gave me homework and my every move had to be the perfectly graded in response.

On a peculiar afternoon this dream had to crumble, as all things do.

“You have no idea how much grief he’s going to give me, once he smells you on me."

I sat on Kent’s armchair, surrounded by his wall of professional accolades.

“I can’t just send you this shit in an email! Look now that Roman is dead I know you didn’t want this in a hurry… but this could make me bigger than Larry King, I could be the next Anderson Cooper– fuck! You think Woodward hit it big with Watergate! This is my Watergate! Vought it’s done for, shit will crumble if this hits the presses and if you didn’t know my address I would have slapped this shit on the front page by ‘morrow!”

He screamed quietly, inside his empty apartment music playing just loud enough to block our voices, this six million dollar apartment was straight out of the pages of Architectural Digest, it screamed old money and it was the reason Kent lived there.

“Everything I’ve ever wanted in life– my name written in the annals of history! To put me as one of the greatest Journalists of all time is right here! but I have to give this back! Because we’re friends.”

“You’re only doing this because Homelander will kill you. I know you don’t care much for Bruno or the seven kids you got, but you don’t need to pretend you’re a good person with me Kent.”

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want my kids to die… or Bruno just for the record! You should leave him.”

He handed me the hard-drive rather urgently.

“The moment he finds out you got this before he did– he will kill you. Maybe after he recreates 9/11 and tumbles that tower over…”

“What’s in this?”

“Leave him. Throw that shit in a microwave and leave him, my guy… my hacker guy, I had to ask Dolores to get rid of him just to make sure there’s no loose ends. She made canapes for her little cannibal group with him! I had to ask to contact your old gang friends to track down all of his friend to check the fucker didn’t spill anything! So leave Homelander now! Y/N I care ‘bout you, we been friends for a long time but this information is not something you can toy with.”

“Thank you Kent... but I can’t leave him. I love him. Whatever this is that has you so riled up won’t make me leave him.”

“Don’t ever set foot in my home ever again. I might not be a great husband or father but I won’t let you be the reason I lose Bruno and the kids. It was nice working with you– somebody of your talent will surely find greener pastures.”

The way he watched me wasn’t much different from you this evening.

“You mean that?”

“It was nice knowing you, Now leave! Audrey!-- Please don’t die over a man… the Y/N that I know… knew… wasn’t this stupid.” 

The maid promptly escorted me.

I made it home feeling rather hollow– making the whole thing with you murdering Kent rather pointless considering he had no genuine desire to ever see me again. 

I sat in my room listening to your text messages ringing in the background, the little backlight for this horror film.

I headed back to the Tower with a sense of urgency, you weren’t there instead you were dealing with a sudden disaster that needed your attention after all you had two new rookies to show the ropes to, and when this shit happens Heroes are needed.

I knocked on somebody else’s door not caring if the cameras could see me.

“We need to talk, Kevin.”

The Deep looked at me confusedly, more shocked that I addressed him by his first name.

“What brings you here? And did you just call me Kevin!?”

“work, dipshit. Now let me in, we need to talk.”

[soulreaper]

tagged by @fruixtii

order your favorite twst dorms from least fave to favorite!

Pomefiore: i love eppy and vil MOST OF THE TIME. but i do not like rook one bit 😢 and given his presence as well as me just not really liking pomefiore chapter and the entire atmosphere of the dorm, they are definitely lowest for me. Also i can never forgive vil for that shit he said during the fairy gala.

Heartslabyul: if mid was a dorm. DONT GET ME WRONG. i love all of them and i’m literally obsessed with alice in wonderland, but also as a dorm it’s not that remarkable and it's kind of booooring -_-; I suppose it’s a good setting for the first chapter but we never really come back to it after chapter 2 and it’s quite forgettable T_T

Scarabia: looks around... LISTEN. jamil and kalim are two of my favorite characters in this damn game, but the orientalism of the actual dorm is hard to deny. i understand that Aladdin is also very orientalist, but that’s not really an excuse, and knowing that Yana Toboso designed it is grosser given that that woman loves racism and orientalism. Like along with child sexualization, it's one of her favorite things. good characters, evil dorm, evil game, evil disney, evil designer.

Savanaclaw: i don’t think leona did anything wrong. ruggie didn’t either. my opinion. i also love jack bc hes so cute and cool. as a dorm.. 🔥🔥🔥 the dorms design is quite possibly my favorite of any of them because it’s very comfortable while maintaining the "wild" feeling the dorm is supposed to represent. ALSO it has the best lounge out of literally any of the dorms I'm serious!! overall 11/10 for savanaclaw because they are my bros and i wish malleus had let them win the magift tournament. 🥀

Ignihyde: yes . i know them. firstofall.... pointy teef. secondof all.... fire hairs. thrid of all... autism. Lastly... Transgenderism that is inherent to robots and gamers. need i say more. i seriously dont care for underworld themes or the dorms high tech design buuuut it's okay because it's such a cool dorm. i LOVE the dorm theme, it’s very lobotomy corp ost. Listen to 1st Warning and 2nd Warning from lobcorp ost bc they are Ignihyde type beats. Idia is my dear sweet wicked one. he’s literally in my top 5 twst characters because hes an otaku character that doesn't suck and embarrass me which is like!! Really hard to find 👍 ALSO more importantly!!! Little homie Ortho is there. he’s only 1 ipad tall with a silly and kind soul and they put him in the torture chamber for 1000 years. two of my specialest angels in one dorm with a story that makes me kill myself one hundred times.

Octavinelle: You are a madman for saying that floyd and jade are over-hyped btw. The fans talk about them a lot but the version of floyd and jade they are hyping up is make believe and not accurate to their souls ¬_¬. i hate how octavinelle fans portray them. i constantly find myself thinking “he would not fucking say that” when looking at tweel fan works. azul is also so so beautiful. im too sleepy to go into detail but they are all 3 very good and interesting characters TO ME. in general, i love love love octavinelle. the ocean aesthetic, the mafia vibes, the autism, and just the whole vibe of the dorm. (<- fish fan) aaaand i like when there is friends who say they arent friends but we know they are. Plus plus i think about them in my mind palace a LOT so they will always be near and dear to me.

Diasomnia: haha. 💀 I love all the characters and I don’t think there has been a single day in the last month where i wasn’t spinning them around in my mind palace. I didn't particularly think of myself as a Diasomnia fan until I finished chapter 6 and I found that I was actually afraid of getting spoiled or something bad happening to any of the characters in chapter 7. Malleus has always been one of my favorite twst characters. His design is perfect, his personality is perfect, his mindset for why he does the things he does and responds to things the way he does is so interesting too. Good starter character to pull you into the torture chamber that is Diasomnia. I’m sure you understand. The family dynamic of the dorm is also really interesting to look at and makes me kill myself 10 thousand times when I get spoiled about it. The aesthetic of the dorm is very nice and I know it smells like spiders in there. Favoritest dorm until I get so crazy I have to destroy my phone and never look at twst again. 💕

This is literally exhausted rambling -_- but I love hopelessness, love, fate, and tragedy more than anyone alive, but I will always have a soft spot for silly guys.

I'm tagging hmmmmmmmm @kizuowen that's all I can think of on account of I cannot remember urls ever

[letters-from-eros]

Can I get some big brother chuuya hc with a little brother (or you can do gender neutral! Which ever you prefer!) that's also in the port mafia

A/N: I was rewatching AOT and realized Jean had Chuuya's VA today so yeah Chu-Chu content. This might be really really bad I'm an only child 😙

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara x Sibling!Reader (GN)

Form: HC

Warnings: Probably shit writing, I haven't done anything in WEEKS

Beta-Readers: Wifey @bokuno-volleybabes

Mmmmmm Big brother Chuuya. Interesting.

Overall, he's a really good brother to you, I don't think you could really ask for much better tbh.

Yeah you two do bicker a lot, especially if you managed to be taller than the poor lil alcoholic, but it isn't constant unless you're the one provoking him

God the amount of SHIT Chuuya gives you if you're shorter OR taller than him god bless your SOUL, believe when I say 90% of your arguments come from the concept of height.

I definitely think hating Dazai is something that runs in the family, if it doesn't good luck having to hear all about Chuuya's hatred towards the suicidal bastard.

But!! If you do hate Dazai as much as your brother does, y'all would tag-team and roast his ass so bad he'd think he finally died and went to the fiery depths of hell. If he knew this was gonna be his punishment, he would've rethought his suicidal tendencies 💀

But anyway!! You working with him at the P.M, lets get to that.

Chuuya holds a ridiculous amount of loyalty to the mafia, and his work ethic definitely reflects said loyalty.

So he will get on you if you're not doing you're best, or just generally slacking off and neglecting the reports/paperwork that goes with working in the mafia. But like... He'll get on you super heavy while picking up like a third of your paperwork to do himself since he doesn't wanna see his little sibling stressed.

It.. Cancels out. He's an ass but you'll never forget about the fact he loves you lots.

Chuuya sticks his neck out for you a lot and isn't ashamed to let everyone know that yes he has a bias for his little sibling, the fuck are you gonna do about it?

But doesn't pull too many strings for you, y'know? The Mafia is a highly difficult job to have, and he can't have you going soft and lazy. (And this is all under the assumption you're not an executive)

But if you ARE an executive oh my god

You two would be working in the same office (either your own or Chuuya's, most likely the latter's) complaining about how much paperwork comes along with your position, probably while drinking wine too. Gossiping n shit 😭

Also, executive or not, EVERYONE knows to fear the Nakahara siblings.

Always reminds you when he's about to go out on a field mission. If you both aren't at the same place its via text, if you two are he's stopping by and ruffling your hair while telling you he's about to head out on a field assignment. It calms him down a lot plus it helps clear his head. He definitely expects you to do the same when you head out on missions, he needs to be in the know about that stuff and will get pretty upset if you don't.

God forbid you get hurt on the job. His reaction depends on how hurt you are.

If its just a few scrapes and bandages, he'll just chew you out about getting hurt and makes you give him a rundown about everything that happened on the mission, he's giving you his undivided attention.

If you're hurt sorta bad and put out of commission he's a muddy mixture of emotions he's not good at portraying.

He's scared because what if you got hurt worst than how much you already are, if the injuries were preventable he's upset with you for being so careless, plus he's angry with who ever caused you this pain.

Now... If you're in critical condition, Chuuya's literally seeing red. No one related to him is gonna be weak by any means, so its heavy stuff if you got hurt this bad.

His first instinct would be to get back at who ever hurt you if they're even still alive. But after Chuuya's after them, they're as good as dead. Afterwards, he's not leaving your side, he doesn't care if you're in a coma or what. He is not leaving you under any cicrumstances, this goes for when you're recovering too.

You two probably rarely get assigned as partners for missions, despite your relation.

I feel like Chuuya prefers going solo on missions ever since Dazai left the mafia, but if you seek him out to go on missions with you, he isn't all that against it. Always tells you "He's only doing this once" every mission because he's probably trying to build a reputation around him going solo but tbh he's coming with you whenever you ask 🙄

Its hard for him to say no to you a lot of the time, and honestly if you both start partnering on missions more than you're going solo Mori's gonna end up making you two official partners like he was with Dazai.. Chuuya's gonna be hella pissy about it, though.

Late nights researching about Arahabaki are.. Oddly personal. Its quiet and dark. The only things not making it a complete void is the illuminated screens of laptops the sound of clicks and scrolls. Maybe the occasional scribble of notes. But although little to no words are being said, its still an important time that just feels really vulnerable and personal, which is something thats usually difficult for Chuuya to display

...

He drags you to go shopping with him 💀 Chuuya lives by the rule "drip or drown" and gravity man REFUSES to drown

Dw you definitely dripped out too LMAO. If anything catches your eye he'll buy it for you knowing full well you can afford it yourself. Its useless to talk him out of it.

Shopping is probably how you both get your quality time outside of work, so even though Chuuya will semi-aggressively drag you out with him, its still a slightly pleasurable time 😭

Please don't get to arguing inside a peaceful designer store over whether or not some piece of apparel looks good or not, its gonna be hard not to but please...

People are looking at you two.

You're gonna get thrown out..

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: X

I will not ask you where you came from,

I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do.

Like Real People Do, Hozier

A/N: okay i know i say this every time but genuinely THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART SO FAR!!!!! and my lil section of this story has come to an end!!! act one is done!!! and the beginning of act two aka part 11 will be coming on andrea’s blog!!!!! thank u guys so so much for all the love and support you’ve given us!!!! we truly cannot believe you guys have been so receptive and we love you all so so much 🦋 as always any and all feedback is deeply appreciated not just by andrea and I but by all content creators!!! seriously we do all of this for free while going to school and working full time and those little messages make our days so much better!!! so do reblogs!!! you should reblog the content you like!!!! leave a lil message in the tags!!! shoot us a message!! anything is truly madly deeply™️ appreciated 💌 thank you all once again for your support!!!! pls enjoy 🦋

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist :  ysijwa playlist II

word count: 37.9k

content/warnings: harry ignoring “bros before hoes” part 45684957, “FUCK FLORIDA!!! ALL MY HOMIES HATE FLORIDA!!!” - xander, fight scene (rap), jefferson x hamilton (friends to lovers), road head ahead?? uhhh yeah, i sure hope so!!!, MUSI 1113: history of classical music, prof. harry styles, sherlock and watson solve the biggest mystery yet, *edward cullen voice* and so the mosquito fell in love with the butterfly

“Are you going to stare at your phone all day, like a bloody tool, or are you actually going to join the conversation?”

Despite the baited question, Harry keeps his gaze on his device as he flicks through his notifications, opening one app after the other in quick repetition before closing the screen. “That depends.  Are you actually going to say something interesting?”

From the other side of his couch, Niall flicks up his middle finger with ease, his expression sour and unimpressed. “We are saying something interesting, you prick.  I want to get out of town next weekend, but no one—” The Irishman shoots a pointed look to Xander, who’s leaning across the kitchen island with an unbothered expression. “—can agree on where to go.”

“It’s not that I can’t agree, Niall. It’s that your ideas are stupid.” Xander shoots back in an exasperated tone, raising his Bloody Mary (with extra blood, hardly any Mary) to his scowling lips. “No one wants to go to fucking Florida.  It’s Florida.  Why the fuck would we go to Florida?”

“Because I’ve been alive for two hundred years—”

Adam clicks his tongue from the lounge seat by the window. “I’m not sure if ‘alive’ is the best description.”

“—and I’ve never been to Disney World!  I died from a fucking famine.  Am I not entitled— nay, am I not owed—” Niall straightens his posture on the couch as he addresses the whole of the room, a determined look set in his icy blue eyes that contrasts the dulled gaze of those watching him. “A warm churro, cold Dole Whip, and a set of over-priced Mickey ears?  Huh?”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’d have to go to Florida to get that!” Xander exclaims, rounding the corner of the kitchen counter with his drink in hand.  He raises the glass to his lips, pausing halfway to point towards the wall of windows that’s currently letting in the midday Sunday sun. “We could drive a half hour to Disneyland, and get you the exact same thing!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Niall sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, as if he needs to calm himself down before doing something he regrets. “Xander,” He begins in a controlled voice, tight and tense and on the verge of snapping. “I suffered through starvation, fought in a world war, went through the Great Depression, and then fought in another fucking world war!  After all that, why would I settle for Disneyland, when we could easily make it to Disney World and back in three days?”

“You know…” Mitch says slowly, flopping down on the sofa between Niall and Harry, who’s already turned his attention back to his obsessive ritual of checking his notifications. “You can’t keep playing the ‘fought in a war’ card.  Harry fought in World War One, too, and I fought in the Revolutionary War.  And died in the Revolutionary War.  You do realize the majority of our group are veterans, right?”

Niall sighs in exasperation, clutching his beer in his fist to keep it from spilling as the older vampire beside him shifts on the couch. “I don’t play the ‘fought in a war’ card, Mitchell, I play the ‘fought in two wars’ card. And I think that card earns me the right to choose what we do next weekend.”

“And I think you folded those cards the moment you suggested Florida.” Wrinkling his nose, Xander finally enters the living room, and Harry risks a glance up from his phone to eye the dark-tinted liquid that laps at the edge of Xander’s glass with every step. “Why don’t we just go to Disneyland?  Or, better yet, why don’t we take a few extra days and go somewhere exciting?  I hear Greece is lovely this time of year; I wouldn’t mind trying some Mediterrean food for a week.”

“Florida is just as lovely—”

“That’s a lie, Florida is never lovely.”

“And Adam wants to go to Disney World, too!” Niall finishes triumphantly, taking a large swig of his half-empty beer before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “So it’s two-to-one!”

“Two-to-two, actually.” Mitch interjects, pursing his lips at the childish grimace that overtakes Niall’s previously cheery expression. “I’m not too fond of alligators, and last time I heard from Sarah, she was in Italy.  It’d be nice to have a week with her in Greece.”

Niall rolls his eyes at the sudden tie, turning his gaze past his disappointing friend to his other almost-as-disappointing friend, tone growing firmer. “Alright, then, Harry, it’s up to you.  You’re our tie-breaking vote.”

Harry, however, had spent the better part of the last two minutes scrolling through the photos he and Y/N had taken on their date the day before, and doesn’t even glance up from his screen upon registering the utterance of his name. “Hm?  The vote on what?”

The frustrated Irishman lobs his bottle of beer at Harry’s head, his pitch powerful enough that it nearly collides with its target a millisecond later.  And would have collided, if Harry’s hand hadn’t shot up on a supernatural reflex to capture it perfectly within his grasp.

Keeping his eyes locked on his phone, Harry sighs at his friend’s antics. “Watch it, Ni, I don’t want to scrub beer stains out of my couch—”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to throwing bottles at your thick head if you could get it out of your girlfriend’s arse long enough to participate in our discussion!” The blue-eyed vampire shoots daggers at him, and the lightness of his irises shifts to a dark crimson as Harry’s gaze barely flickers to him. “Oh for fuck’s sake—” Bracing himself against Mitch’s lap, Niall launches over the couch and snatches Harry’s phone from his hands, scrambling back to his seat and stuffing it down his jeans pocket before Harry can react. “You’ll get this back after we finish talking, alright?  Now, where do you want to go next weekend?  Disney World or Greece?”

Although the urge to tackle Niall and fight for his phone twinges in Harry’s mind, he forces himself to stay seated, settling for just shooting a glare across the couch.  He’s certain that Mitch wouldn’t be appreciative of him and Niall biting at each other on top of him, just as certain he is of the fact that attacking Niall won’t exactly make him look mentally stable.  

Instead, Harry merely sucks in a deep breath, setting the beer bottle on the coffee table and dragging his jeweled hand through his hair before answering evenly. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend.  And second of all… neither.  Y/N and I have plans next weekend.”

A collective groan runs through the room the moment the phrase falls from his lips, and Harry swallows down a smirk at the reaction he receives from his friends.  Only Mitch’s face remains free of irritation, and instead sits in a neutral expression that, from his years of friendship, Harry can tell is tinged with concern.

“You have plans with her every weekend.” Xander complains, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary as he sits down next to Adam on the lounge seat, pulling Harry’s attention from the eldest immortal. “How can you sit there and say she’s not your girlfriend when you’ve been ditching us for the last, like, three and a half months to spend time with her?”

That, in all honesty, is a fair question.  Harry knows that he’s been spending more and more time with Y/N in the last few weeks at the expense of his friends, and on some level, he does feel bad about it.  Except that when he actually thinks about it, he doesn’t feel that bad in the slightest. He has no reason to, given that he spends almost every weekday with his friends, so what’s the harm in saving his weekends for someone else?  

In fact, he rather enjoys bracketing off those days just to spend them with her, alone with no one else to bother them, where they can just bask in each other’s company. So no, he really doesn’t feel bad at all.

He has the sudden realization that, on top of having the sweetest, most addicting blood he’s ever had the good fortune of tasting in the last two hundred years, Y/N is just generally fun to be around. Due to this, Harry has unintentionally continued to grow closer and closer to the human girl with every second they spend together.  She’s witty, adventurous, and always down to try something new— both in public and in the bedroom.  And in the bedroom— a smile unknowingly creeps onto Harry’s face as he recalls the dinner he’d taken her to last month, and what they’d done after. 

He also recalls the morning that had followed, in which they had eaten breakfast on his couch together in nothing but their underwear, their bodies tangled against the sofa cushions as Y/N had fed him bites of French toast while he showed her the extensive collection of Polaroid pictures he’d taken the previous night before.  He vividly remembers the way she had squirmed at the images of her with her legs spread open for him, of her bare chest heaving and her back arching, and of the wetness dripping down her thighs and staining the sheets. And he especially remembers the way she’d hid her face away in his neck at the snapshot of his hand wrapped around her throat, as well as the picture of her suckling eagerly at his thumb while his array of rings had glinted under the flash of the camera. 

It had been so cute watching her eyes brim over with shyness, especially because she had been more than happy to shed her inherent timidness the night prior. He’d teased her about it, of course. How could he not? He’d laid there as she rested between his legs, pointing out every welt and bruise prominent on the photos, and then skimming his icy fingers over her actual body to find them. It had been a very intimate moment, given that they were reflecting on more than just the physical aspects of what they’d shared. It feels like their entire dynamic had shifted slightly, all due to the fact that the roughness and aftercare that had occurred between them were actions that required immense amounts of trust and communication. Harry felt closer to her in a way he hadn’t before, and if the softness behind Y/N’s eyes was any indication, she felt the exact same way. 

Their connection felt different now— purer, in a way, now that they’d seen one another in such an exposed fashion, but it still managed to stay within the boundaries Harry was intent on upholding. She’d given him a type of relief he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much, considering he hadn’t indulged in anything of that caliber in years due to certain doubts about his self-control. But somehow, he had managed to keep his supernatural strength and impulses at bay the whole way through, and he’d kept her safe and satisfied, as he promised he would. In return, she’d made him feel more in tune with himself than he had in a while. 

With all of those thoughts filtering through the vampire’s mind during their morning cuddle session, he had ducked down and kissed at the tip of her warm nose, sighing blissfully when she had returned the gesture onto the curve of his chin. Then, he’d begun pinching playfully at her sides, not being able to resist the urge to make her smile. He had burst into laughter when she herself had erupted into spontaneous giggles, thrashing against him while squeaking curses between gasps of his name, pleading with him to cut it out or she’d wind up falling off the sofa. It had been a wholesome pastime, up until he’d ended up sucking maple syrup off her fingers with that signature devious twinkle in his half-lidded eyes, and then she herself had ended up licking that same syrup off his abdomen. That had led to him tonguing it off the swell of her breasts, and then she had wound up lapping at something much more interesting than his stomach.

It’s only natural, though, considering that in the bedroom, Y/N is a refreshingly unstoppable force.  She matches his every push, pull, and thrust with ease, as if she knows his body by heart.  Maybe she does, Harry muses, considering that he undisputedly knows hers from every angle, like the stanzas of his favorite poem. And between all those things, is it really his fault he wants to spend as much time with her as he can?  Keeping her happy and content had worked well to sweeten her blood for him thus far, so why should he change his game plan now, when he’s so clearly in the lead?

Last weekend, for example, he and Y/N had driven the scenic route out to Malibu, where they spent the entire day lounging on beach towels and frolicking in the waves.  He’d enjoyed seeing her with saltwater hair, her soft skin encrusted with sand and warmed by the sun, almost as much as he’d enjoyed fiddling with the strings of her bikini and coating her body in sunscreen, because “protection from UV rays is a top priority, love.  Trust me.”  They’d packed a picnic lunch for themselves that consisted of homemade sandwiches, chips and salsa, and fruit skewers, which Y/N had hand-fed to Harry after she’d convinced him to let her bury him in the sand.  It had been irritating to shower the grit out from some unsavoury places, but worth it to see the smile on her face and hear her infectious giggles as she molded a sizable pair of sandcastle breasts onto his chest.  And doubly worth it after he took her home and fed on her sea-tinged blood.

Yesterday, as well, had been an example of how well Harry is doing with this arrangement the two of them have.  He’d picked her up in the early afternoon and taken her to the Museum of Contemporary Art, where they’d spent the rest of the day wandering the exhibits and debating the artistic merits of each piece.  Of course, their discussions were less educated and more humour based, as Harry tended to list every painting as reminding him of sex, while Y/N said that every sculpture she saw was a comment on capitalism, but it had made them laugh nonetheless.  And while the security guards standing by didn’t seem to think their overheard conversations were amusing— nor how they posed with the paintings, trying to mimic the various expressions depicted in the artwork— Harry could tell that Y/N was entertained. It was obvious in how sugary her blood had been after she’d fallen asleep hours later. And if Harry were a better artist, he would’ve created his own sculpture dedicated to the honey and lavender liquid that he’d become so tied to over these last few months, but it appears his position as a collector is what he was suited for— both for literal artwork and the metaphorical pieces he’d paint on Y/N’s body with his lips. 

It’s with all these events in mind that he turns to Xander casually as the man’s question echoes in his head once more. “How can you say she’s not your girlfriend?”

A clear and concise explanation slips from Harry’s tongue without a second thought. “I can say she’s not my girlfriend because it’s true.” Harry slicks a hand through his tousled curls again out of habit, so used to busying his fingers with fiddling on his phone that he has to find some sort of substitute. “Keeping her satisfied keeps her— and her blood— around.  And, yes, she’s a sweet girl, and a nice break from you lot—” He nods towards Niall specifically with a jerking motion and a raised brow. “But there…” He just barely hesitates before spitting the words out. “There aren’t any actual feelings there.”

“Oh really?” Niall challenges, his own brow kinking as he shifts on the couch, turning his body completely to face Harry at the expense of Mitch’s personal space. “So all those times I’ve heard the two of you shagging— all those times you’ve called her ‘a dream’ or ‘perfect’— there were no feelings in that?”

Xander wolf whistles at the comment as Adam barks out a laugh, and even Mitch allows himself a reserved smirk at the mention of Harry’s bedroom talk.  Harry, on the other hand, straightens his shoulders as a flush works up his spine and onto his cheeks, and instead commands his tone to be as cutting as possible when he forms his reply.

“I don’t think Y/N would be very appreciative to know you’re eavesdropping on us fucking like some type of perverted creep, so you might want to invest in a better pair of plugs before I rip your ears off and solve the problem myself.” Harry threatens lowly, eyes flashing bright red for just a moment before reverting back to their natural emerald hue. “And you can take what I say mid-fuck as a ready-made script, mate, since you have no clue how to sweet-talk a bird into making her cum.”

Niall’s hands reach up to cup his ears protectively due to the other monster’s violent warning, his brows furrowing into a pointed scowl. “Eat shit. It’s not like I have a choice but to listen, given that you two nearly bring the building down while—”

“You know,” Xander chimes in from the lounge seat, his voice taking on an accusatory tone as his eyes narrow at Harry. “I thought a constant supply of blood would mellow you out, but if anything, you’ve grown a bit more irritable.  Does this arrangement have an expiration date?”

“Xander…” Mitch begins, caution written into his quiet voice as his eyes flit from Harry to Xander and back again. “That’s not—”

Harry sharpens his voice into a blade as he slashes over Mitch, jaw growing taut as he spits out his retort. “I know a relationship lasting more than one night is a bit of a foreign concept to you, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but I really don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”

“So you fuck the same person for a couple of months, and suddenly you’re a relationship expert?” Xander inquires with a humorless huff, his tone just as bitter as his eyes as he glares at Harry from across the room. “As if you haven’t had commitment issues since the nineteenth century?” Raising his drink to his lips, Xander takes a slow and calculated swig as Adam shifts in discomfort next to him, his eyes meeting Mitch’s with a nervous glance. “At least I can call shit what it is, while you just delude yourself for weeks on end, pretending that anything good can come out of your attachment to an insignificant human—”

“If I were you,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his fingers curling over the edge of his couch to hold himself in place. “I’d choose your next words very carefully, Xanny.”

“Or what?  Are you gonna dig into your Fifty Shades chest and spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  What, are you just upset you never got the full treatment?”

A hot flush crawls up Xander’s neck as his jaw clenches. “I never said I wanted it.”

“The jealousy written all over your face suggests otherwise.” 

“Alright!” Adam’s voice barks, swiftly slicing through the tension in the air, his eyes glowing crimson as he commands everyone’s attention from the two quarrelling vampires back onto himself. “That’s enough.  You’re both being ridiculous. Harry, you can’t be upset with us for trying to understand what you’re doing, mate.  We’re just curious, that’s all.  But Xander—” The youngest vampire’s snickering is cut off when his name is called sternly. “That doesn’t give you the right to ridicule him for it.  Harry knows what he’s doing— he’s a full-grown adult— and he wouldn’t do anything that would put himself, or any of us, into any sort of jeopardy.” With a long sigh, Adam’s gaze slides over the two creatures with a look of parental finality. “Are we good?”

Despite the annoyance still woven around each of Harry’s limbs, he forces himself to nod as he settles back into his couch, inhaling a deep breath through his nose.  Beside him, Mitch nudges the back of his hand against Harry’s arm, as if in encouragement, and the motion reminds him just exactly who it is that he’s talking to.  These are his friends— of course they have concerns about him.  Although they might voice those concerns in unusual ways (like sticking their noses into his intimate life), the meaning behind their words comes from a place of affection.

“Alright.” Adam says again, relief flooding across his face as he turns his attention to the rest of the room. “Now, we still need to decide what we’re doing next weekend.  Personally, I think a three day trip to Disney World would be a lot easier than Greece; I say we save that for next month, so we have more time to plan it and actually make the trip worthwhile.”

Xander, still a little irritated from his confrontation with Harry, huffs in response. “That’s all well and good, Adam, except you forgot that I refuse to step foot in that humid swamp-fest. Makes my face break out and my curls frizz up.”

“Jesus Christ, Xander.” Niall groans from the opposite end of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose like before, nudging his large squared glasses up as he does so. “Can you just get that stick out of your arse long enough to—”

Whatever Niall is about to suggest Xander do seems to disappear from his mind as the Irishman suddenly cuts off his speech, his ears perking up as Harry’s phone begins to chime from his back pocket.  Although the sound is muffled from both the cushion and Niall’s trousers, the distinguishable opening motive of “Alexander Hamilton” playing can be heard by everyone, and it only takes one loop of Y/N’s signature ringtone for Harry to launch himself over the couch with his arms outstretched.

“Hey!” Mitch exclaims loudly, pressing himself into the cushions as Harry’s body writhes against his lap in his effort to extract the phone from Niall’s pants. “Jesus, watch your fucking feet!  You’re like Gumby!”

Harry, however, is only paying attention to Niall, who is fending off his attempts at snatching the device with one hand while holding the phone over the edge of the couch with the other. “Give it!” He snarls, eyes shading red as he watches an immature simper grow onto Niall’s face, his thumb poising over the answer button. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Shh!” Niall hisses at him, but his voice is lit with delight as he clicks on the green phone icon and raises the device to his ear, lowering his voice into a relaxed drawl. “Hi there, you’ve reached the Styles residence! Para español, por favor oprima el número uno. This is Niall speaking, what can I help you with today?”

“Oh—” Even through the tiny speaker, Harry’s highly tuned ears have no trouble picking out the gentle cadence of Y/N’s voice. “Hi, Niall!  It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” The younger immortal grins at Harry as he dodges his attempt at swiping for the device, setting his palm between Harry’s eyes and shoving him back roughly as he clambers up off the couch. He dashes across the living room to hide behind the lounge seat, sticking out his tongue and wagging it at his very peeved friend. “Lovely to hear your voice, darlin’!  How are you doing on this lovely Sunday afternoon?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Harry hears her response as he pounces off the sofa, barreling across the room to chase after Niall. The shorter man is stealthy, and manages to duck and weave past Harry without a single issue, escaping under his left arm. He scrambles towards the glass stairs, holding back giggles as his opponent circles around the furniture to go after him, unhinged aggravation written all over his handsome features. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just delightful.” Niall laughs airily, taking a sharp turn away from the staircase to confuse Harry’s impulses, snatching a throw pillow off the nearest couch and aiming it at the brunette’s head.  Like the beer bottle, Harry catches it easily, throwing it back at Niall’s stomach with a harder hand. Niall avoids it by a hair. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh, I just wanted to talk to Harry— I had a question for him.  But if he’s busy…”

“Yeah, he’s a little indisposed at the moment, I’m afraid.” Niall races into the kitchen, bracing himself against the marble island with that shit-eating grin still on his face, shuffling erratically from side to side to sike out the other creature across from him. “But I’d be happy to take a message from such a gorgeous girl as yourself.”

“Oh, um, that’s very kind of you—”

Harry rounds the corner of the marble island with a growl, snatching his phone from one hand and smacking Niall upside the head with the other. “Bloody prick.” He hisses over the other vampire’s snickers, eyes colder than his touch as he delivers another blow to Niall’s shoulder. “Fucking annoying, is what you are—”

“Niall?  Are you there?”

After heaving an exasperated sigh and sending one more glare to his friend, Harry raises his phone to his ear, doing his best to lighten the irritation in his voice. “Sorry, love. Niall just wants to be a bit of a bother today, it seems.” He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth as he turns away from the Irishman, wrapping his free arm around his middle as he leans his lower back against the island, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. He picks at a loose thread on his copper tartan trousers, voice coming out honeyed and delicate, as it always tends to get when he regards her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He can hear the smile that spreads across Y/N’s face upon hearing from him, and the tone sends a flood of warmth through Harry’s chest. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, sweetheart, never.  I’m always free to talk to you.” Harry sends a cautious glimpse towards the living room, knowing that the four vampires sitting in his living room (Niall had slinked his way back to the couch now that his ridiculous charade had come to a close) are hanging onto his every word. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good, just… I had a question, but if you’re busy—”

“No, not busy at all!  I’ve just been lounging around with the boys all morning. S’nothing serious.” Harry replies a bit too excitedly, straightening the hem of his fitted red and black striped t-shirt, which had gotten mussed during his tussle with Niall. “What d’you need?

Over the phone, he can hear Y/N clear her throat delicately, and a picture of her sitting on her couch in her living room plays across the front of his eyes, her thumb wedged between her lips as she chews on her nail, as she always does when she gets nervous. “Uh, well, I was also just relaxing this morning, and I was playing on my phone, and I kinda came upon this cute little bookstore called Verbatim Books. They have a bunch of really cool used books— and records, too, which I think you’d like— and they have this really neat, like, labyrinth layout—” Harry’s lips twitch as Y/N continues to ramble, “—and I’ve been looking for a replacement copy of Wuthering Heights because I dropped mine in the bathtub, remember?  And I wanted to get a new copy of Romeo and Juliet, as well—”

“Alright, slow down, pet.  Can barely understand you when you’re going a mile a minute.” Harry chuckles boyishly, absentmindedly carding a jeweled hand through the soft curls along the nape of his neck.  Just the sound of Y/N’s innocent dialect ringing in his ear manages to somehow soothe his entire body. “You want to go to this bookstore, is that it?  Because we can.” He flicks his eyes back over to his friends, who are already rolling their own in response. “Just give me an hour or two to finish up with the guys, and I’ll come pick you up—”

“Well, the thing is…” He pictures Y/N chewing on her thumb some more, timid uncertainty pouring into her usually clear irises. “Verbatim Books is in San Diego.”

“San Diego.” Harry repeats back to her, his free hand settling against the cold marble of the island behind him as he quirks an eyebrow in mild shock. “As in the San Diego that’s a two hour drive away?  That San Diego?”

Y/N’s anxious laugh tinkles through the receiver. “Yeah, that San Diego.  But if you have plans with your friends, I completely understand.  We can go a different day.”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth wearingly, Harry glances at the digital clock blinking above his stovetop, reflecting back the time 12:53 P.M. “When do they close?”

“Five, I think?”

The vampire calculates the route to San Diego in his head, his sculpted brows creasing as the time frame appears in his mind. “If we left now, we’d probably get there between three and three-thirty.  Would an hour and a half be enough time for you to explore and find what you need?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are unbelievable,” Xander mutters from across the condo, but Harry pays him no attention other than raising a blue-lacquered middle finger to flip him off. 

“I mean, yeah, I think so, but—”

“Alright, darling, then just give me a few minutes to grab my things and kick everyone out.” Harry says firmly, pushing himself away from the counter to begin searching for his car keys. 

“No, Harry, it’s not so important that we have to go today, and I don’t want you to kick your friends out.  In fact…” Y/N’s voice becomes thoughtful as a new idea pops into her head, and she hesitates for a moment before suggesting it on the grounds of not wanting to come off as pushy. But in the end, her curiosity bests her. “Why don’t we save Verbatim for another day, and I could just come over and hang out with you and your friends?  I bought all the ingredients for this really yummy guacamole recipe I saw on Tasty the other day— we could do, like, an impromptu movie night or something.  I’ve been craving one of your margaritas all week.”

“Yeah, Harry!” Niall chimes in as Harry re-enters the living room, obviously ignoring his friend’s earlier threat against eavesdropping. “I could go for some guac and a marg— not blended, though. Tastes like shit that way.”

Harry stares at him in disgust as he snatches his keys from the coffee table. “You’re a fucking twat.” 

“What?”

“Oh— not you, babe!” Harry hurries to reassure her as Niall cackles in taunting satisfaction. “Sorry, I was talking to Niall.  No, it’s… it’s alright.  You want to go to this bookstore, and the boys were on their way out anyways—”

“Were you on your way out?” Adam asks Xander sarcastically, and Xander raises his half-full Bloody Mary as a negative response, making a mockingly sour face in return. “Okay, I thought so.  Neither was I.”

“—so it’s all fine.  I’ll leave in a few minutes, yeah?  Probably be at your place within fifteen?” Harry checks the time on his Rolex as he estimates his arrival. “Does that sound good?”

“I— sure.  Yeah, that works.” Y/N says slowly, her voice a little softer than it was a moment before. “I’ll see you when you get here, then.”

“Alright, doll.  See you soon.” Harry hangs up his phone with a tap of his finger, sliding the device into his back pocket as he turns to face his friends. “So that was Y/N—”

“Oh, really? I had no clue!” Xander deadpans, rising from the lounge seat and setting his condensation-covered glass on the coffee table, deliberately avoiding the coaster Harry always insists should be used. “See you later, Harry.”

Adam matches the motion, a smirk jolting across his scruffy cheeks as he stands from his seat and claps Harry over the shoulder as he passes by. “Have a nice drive, man.  We’ll do a movie night with Y/N another time.”

The promise plants a seed of unease inside Harry’s stomach, but he doesn’t allow it to show on his face, choosing to smile easily at Adam’s innocent comment instead. “Yeah.  Another time.”

“Yeah, have a nice drive, H.” Niall mutters as he passes him, his face set in a petty surrendered frown. “A nice, long drive.  Preferably off a very short cliff.”

“I would, Ni, but you’d miss me too much.” Harry grins at him jokingly, bumping the vampire’s shoulder with his own until his irritated expression softens into a slightly less irritated smile. 

It’s Mitch, however, who makes Harry pause the most as he goes to leave. He halts in the doorway of Harry’s flat with a somber look in his eyes, appraising his younger friend with a curious gaze, which settles into trepidation as he sighs reluctantly. “You okay, H?” He prods gently, the question heavy as it falls from his mouth.

While Adam’s words were lighthearted and Mitch’s are anything but, they still leave the same feeling of uncertainty curling through Harry’s belly.  And, like Adam’s words, Harry plasters the same reassuring smile across his features, doing his best to dampen his best friend’s concern. “‘M peachy keen, Mitchell.  Don’t need to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry only hesitates for a split second before urging himself to respond. “AB positive.” 

///

If Y/N doesn’t say something to him, Harry is going to go absolutely insane.

It’s not that they haven’t had silence fall between them before, because they have.  They’ve had comfortable silences as they lay in bed at night, Y/N wrapped within Harry’s inked arms as her breaths align with his.  They’ve had quiet lapses in conversation during their usual breakfasts as they watch reruns of Y/N’s favorite crime show, or as they’ve wandered up and down the Santa Monica pier, or walked to and from casual dinners on warmer nights. Despite the lack of words flowing between them, Harry would always know what Y/N was thinking as he slipped his light denim jacket over her bare shoulders, capturing her hand within his own once more as he pulled her to the inside of the sidewalk so he could walk closer to the traffic.  Silence is nothing new to them, and has even been the host of some of Harry’s favourite moments between the two, given that being able to hold a comfortable pause with someone is such a beautifully rare occurrence. Silence has typically been his friend.

But the silences that linger in their past have never felt quite like this.

From the moment Harry pulled out of Y/N’s apartment building parking lot and into the busy traffic of L.A., the mortal girl had grown quiet, and seemingly immune to Harry’s inquiries about how her day had been since he’d dropped her off at her apartment the night before.  Although she first answered him with short snippets— no more than a few words long— by the time he’d peeled them out of the hustle and bustle of the city and onto the highway towards San Diego, even those answers had come to a faltering halt.  Instead, Y/N had propped her chin up on her hand, rested her elbow on the ledge of the car door, and turned her pensive gaze at the scenery whizzing by the window, which she watched with a contemplative crease between her brows.

And the infuriating thing is that he’d asked if something was bothering Y/N the moment she’d begun to clam up, and his question had only received a small jerk of her head and a barely audible, “No, H.  I’m fine.” No gentle caress of Harry’s hand against her leg or soft squeeze of her palm had granted Harry any more clarity on the subject.  

She’s allowed to have secrets, of course. Everyone does.  Harry himself certainly has his own fair share locked away in his chest, free from prying eyes and curious minds.  But the thing is, she hasn’t held any from him.  Any question Harry’s asked, she’s always provided an open and honest answer, even if there’s been a beat of hesitation before the words fall from her pretty lips.  But her answer today, of being fine, is so clearly the opposite of that, and her insistence on hiding it means that she doesn’t want Harry to know that she’s upset.  Which means— Harry’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he rounds the curve of the road— that Harry’s part of the reason she’s upset.  He’s not sure how, or why, or what he’s done, but he’s done something.  Otherwise, Y/N wouldn’t be refusing to give him even a fraction of the warmth she’s usually so willing to gift him. 

Another sigh heaves from Harry’s chest as he lets one hand fall from the leather wheel onto his thigh, tracing the pattern of his plaid trousers absently.  He wants to ask again, just to see if her stubbornness has dwindled by the slightest degree.  And it easily could dwindle with just a breath of suggestion from Harry, but he refuses to do that, no matter how badly he may want to.  If Y/N is really mad at him for something, how can he convince her that she should forgive him if he’s using supernatural powers to make her admit what’s wrong.  Even more, how can he convince himself that he’s justified in earning her forgiveness?

Harry casts another concerned glance at Y/N before shifting in his seat to extract his phone from his trouser pocket.  With a quick swipe of his thumb, he unlocks it with ease, his eyes flicking from the road to the phone and back again as he opens Spotify. 

“You’re not supposed to text and drive, y’know.”

The sweet cadence of Y/N’s voice, despite its quiet tone, uplifts the corner of Harry’s lips and mills a gentle chuckle in his chest. “I’m not texting.  And I’m an excellent driver, sweetheart.” He glimpses at her from the corner of his eye before returning to his search through his playlists. “Got good reflexes.”

The human girl gives a hum of acknowledgement rather than another retort to his comment, and Harry’s newborn grin quickly melts into a frown as Y/N’s attention returns to the window.  Harry finds comfort in another sigh as he selects an album from his library, clicking the shuffle icon in the corner and tucking his phone back in his pocket. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Music begins to roll out from the speakers that Harry installed in his car the year before, producing a hip-hop beat and the voice of Christopher Jackson as George Washington. “You could’ve been anywhere in the world tonight, but you’re here with us in New York City.  Are you ready for a cabinet meeting?”

Harry taps his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel as he steals a sly peek at Y/N.  Although she hasn’t turned to him again, he can see her eyebrows pricking up with curiosity as to what Harry’s doing. That’s all the encouragement Harry needs.

“The issue on the table: Secretary Hamilton’s plan to assume state debt and establish a national bank.  Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir.”

The vampire bites back a triumphant smirk as he turns his gaze back towards the road, feigning a lack of interest in Y/N’s response as he begins to rap along to the Hamilton score. “‘Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’.  We fought for these ideals; we shouldn’t settle for less.  These are wise words, enterprising men quote ‘em,” He cocks his head to the side, allowing his grin to fully light up his face as he captures Y/N’s attention within his. “Don’t act surprised, you guys, ‘cause I wrote ‘em. OWWW!”

Although Y/N’s expression stays neutral, he can see a twitch in her cheek at his loud exclamation, and Harry begins to exaggerate his actions even more as he gestures towards her with twinkling emerald eyes. “But Hamilton forgets!  His plan would have the government assume state’s debts.  Now, place your bets as to who that benefits.” Harry taps his chin symbolically, feigning thought, and then points towards Y/N with dramatized realization. “The very seat of government where Hamilton sits.”

Keeping her own eyes locked on the road ahead of them, Y/N gives a quick yet defiant shake of her head, the corner of her lip raised just a fraction more than it was a moment before. “Not true!”

“Ooh, if the shoe fits, wear it.” Harry’s simper continues to grow with the warming attitude Y/N’s beginning to display, and he shakes his head in return and raises his free hand in a questioning manner as he continues to rap along. “If New York’s in debt, why should Virginia bear it?  Uh, our debts are paid, I’m afraid.” He lifts his fingers into his curls, running them through his roots and pretending to fluff the ends poshly for a haughty effect. “Don’t tax the South ‘cause we got it made in the shade.” Tapping a jeweled finger against the dashboard, Harry emphasizes the beats of his next line. “In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground.  We create; you just wanna move our money around.  This financial plan is an outrageous demand, and it’s too many pages for any man to understand!” He pretends to flip the endless pages of an imaginary novel, and then snaps his wrist dismissively with a cocky smirk, deftly guiding the car around the curve of the road with his other hand. 

“Stand with me in the land of the free, and pray to God we never see Hamilton’s candidacy.  Look, when Britain taxed our tea, we got frisky—” Harry rolls his chest to the rhythm of the song, his dimples deepening in his cheeks as he reaches over towards Y/N and pinches at her side playfully, warmth erupting across his veins when she squeals in surprise. “Imagine what gon’ happen when you try to tax our whiskeyyyy.”

“Thank you, Secretary Jefferson.” Washington says through the speaker as Y/N smacks his hand away and purses her lips, appraising Harry with a raised brow. “Secretary Hamilton, your response.”

For a moment, Harry waits with bated breath, thinking that Y/N won’t rise to his challenge.  She’s too angry with him, for some reason he can’t fathom, and when she opens her mouth, he assumes she’s just going to tell him off for—

“Thomas, that was a real nice declaration.  Welcome to the present, we’re running a real nation.  Would you like to join us?  Or stay mellow doin’ whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello?” Y/N rolls with the music just as Harry had, his rainbow cardigan slipping from her shoulder as she gestures towards him with ridicule. “If we assume the debts the union gets a new line of credit, a financial diuretic.” She lists off each subject on her fingers, making a sour face at Harry. “How do you not get it?  If we’re aggressive and competitive, the union gets a boost—” She slaps her hand down against her thigh passionately, as if his side of the imaginary argument appalls her. “You’d rather give it a sedative?”

Harry barks out a laugh as Y/N’s expression grows more incredulous, mocking him in character as if they were really on a Broadway stage, and not his ‘67 Cadillac driving down a highway in California. 

“A civics lesson from a slaver.” She snorts, reaching across the seat and tapping her knuckles against Harry’s head with a light touch. “Hey neighbour, your debts are paid ‘cause you don’t pay for labour.” She mimics his voice, right down to the slight British tinge that had made it into his Virginian twang, throwing up her hands and shaking them in an overexaggerated motion as she quotes him. “‘We plant seeds in the South.  We create’— Yeah, keep ranting.  We know who’s really doing the planting.” 

One of Harry’s hands shoots up towards his mouth and forms a fist, which he presses against his lips in fake astonishment at her dig, joining the background vocalists in howling. “Ooooh!”

The mortal gestures towards him with renewed fervor in her eyes that barely hides the amusement lingering in her irises. “And that’s another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment.  Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it!”

Harry bites back the jesting retort of “No, but Mitch did.” that nearly rolls from his tongue.

The minimal restraint goes unnoticed by Y/N, who continues her scathing attack on Harry’s alter ego as she points over her shoulder with her thumb. “You think I’m frightened of you, man?  We almost died in the trench,” She pinches together her index finger and thumb and brings them to her mouth, and the ease at which the mimicry of a joint comes to her makes Harry wonder if she’s ever actually smoked one. “While you were off getting high with the French!  Thomas Jefferson, always hesitant with the President.  Reticent— there isn’t a plan he doesn’t jettison.  Madison, you’re mad as a hatter, son, take your medicine.  Damn, you’re in worse shape than the national debt is in!” Gesturing theatrically, Y/N lowers her voice, keeping her intensity as she points to Harry. “Sitting there useless as two shits.  Hey, turn around,” she makes a small twirling motion in the air with her forefinger, and then juts two digits upwards as if to stuff them somewhere, “bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits!”

Harry bursts into laughter with reckless abandon, wrapping his free hand around his stomach as he bends over the steering wheel.  Reaching towards the stereo dials, he turns down the volume, letting the rest of the track fade to background noise before turning his gaze back to Y/N. 

Just like him, the mortal girl is bent over with fits of  belly laughter, and the sound echoes around the Cadillac in the sweetest way.  Harry would take that over the Grammy-winning soundtrack any day. 

“That was good, love.  You’re a proper Broadway starlette, aren’t you?” Harry says between giggles, rubbing at his dimpled cheeks before settling his hands back on the steering wheel. “Didn’t realize you’d been holding out on me so much.”

“I wouldn’t call that holding out.” The mortal girl counters, fixing the slouching shoulder of Harry’s cardigan as she rests back into the passenger seat with a satisfied air. “You’ve heard me sing all the parts to ‘Non-Stop’ at once.”

“Well, yes, but…” Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Harry shoots a cheeky grin at Y/N as he drums his fingers against the leather wheel. “This time you were actually good.”

An indignant scoff falls from Y/N’s mouth as she reaches across the car and smacks his arm.  Harry can sense that she puts a lot of her force behind it, but the action feels as forceful as a fly landing on his shoulder, and he fakes a jostling of his body as he pouts. “You can’t hit the driver!”

“Then don’t insult my Broadway-worthy performances!” She remarks, crossing her rainbow-clad arms over her chest with a defiant air. “I think I’m quite talented— ready to take over the role of Hamilton himself, even.”

The creature rubs over his arm in an attempt to feign soreness, but the simper that’s still dimpled across his face gives him away. “I’m not sure if I’d go that far, peach.  I think I’d give you a chorus role, at best.” He snickers as Y/N’s mouth drops down into a disgruntled frown. “If anyone would be playing Alexander Hamilton, it would be me.”

“Uh, I don’t fucking think so.” She shakes her head adamantly, her brows drawing together in petty disbelief. “They wouldn’t cast a fucking Red Coat in an American Revolution play.”

Harry wedges his plump lip between his teeth at the tauntingly insulting nickname as his mind flickers to Mitch once more.  He’d be amused, Harry thinks, at how this girl seems to so easily mimic the attitude of those who have known Harry for decades. 

“I can do a flawless American accent, love.” Harry’s emphasis on the consonants in his response only highlights his native tone of voice. “But that’s not why I’d be picked to be Hamilton over you. It’s because I just fit the role of the main character better.”

Y/N sputters in her seat for a moment, jaw dropping open at the assured statement. “Are you kidding?” She demands, pressing her palms flat on her thighs as she narrows her eyes. “Like, are you actually fucking kidding?”

“Not one bit.” With his voice dropped to a serious tone, Harry keeps his eyes locked on the road as he replies.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.  I can’t believe you really—” Y/N sucks in a deep breath through her nose, as if she needs to calm and center herself in order to form a coherent answer, and her playful eyes slowly drift shut. “I grew up in a small town, dated the same guy for five years, was left behind while he went to university, where he then cheated on me, and then I moved from the town I’d never left before all the way across the country to Los Angeles, California.” Opening her eyes once more, Y/N turns her determined gaze back to Harry, collapsing her hands in front of her for emphasis. “I literally followed the ‘smalltown girl moves to big city’ trope.  There are dozens of LifeTime movies that follow the exact same plot.  If that doesn’t say ‘main character,’ I don’t know what does.”

“Mm, I’ll tell you what does.” Harry counters, wagging a ringed finger at the human girl while keeping the rest wrapped securely around the steering wheel. “‘Following the life of a handsome, rich British bachelor with a mysterious past, a great fashion sense, and who happens to be very well endowed.’”

“Oh, please. That says ‘one of two love interests from a Hallmark Christmas movie,’ at best.”

The vampire gasps with faux offense, clutching a hand to his dormant chest as he flickers his eyes to the scoffing girl. “A love interest?  You think that’s all I’m entitled to?” He asks, brow furrowed as he clicks his tongue. “Did you miss the part where I said I had a mysterious past and a huge dick?  Girls would foam at the mouth for me.”

“No, believe me, I know all about those two things.” Y/N snorts, brushing back a loose strand from her eyes before she rolls them. “Unfortunately for you, those are all key characteristics of a protagonist’s love interest.”

A smug smirk overtakes Harry’s face as he flicks on his turn signal, glancing over his shoulder before passing a car that has been going a bit too slow for his liking. “Huh.  Well, I suppose as long as you know that I have those key characteristics— particularly that last one— then I guess I’ll settle. S’the most important of them all, I think.”

He expects his joke to receive a rolling laugh from the human girl, or a noise of acknowledgement at the very least, but all that echoes from her is an empty hum from the back of her throat.  When Harry glimpses her way again, he finds that she’s resumed her previous expression of quiet contemplation, brow creased in thought as she chews on her bottom lip. Concern begins to weigh heavy in Harry’s chest once more.

“Speaking of mysteries, though…” She fiddles with her fingers, twisting one of her rings around a digit the same way Harry does when he’s anxious, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might take pleasure in the fact that she’s picked up one of his mannerisms. “There is something I’ve been wondering.  About you, I mean.”

From her closed off body language and sudden shift in mood, Harry knows that this has something to do with the guarded and upset expression she’d had when he’d first picked her up.  And, from her lead in, he knows that his assumptions were right: her unsettled demeanor has something to do with him.  Although the possibilities leave a feeling of unease in the pit of his belly, Harry’s curiosity and his need to satiate her wariness wins out, and he forces himself to nod and ask, “What is it, dove?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no question falls out.  From the corner of his eye, Harry watches as she closes her mouth again, as if she’s decided against asking whatever it is that she wants to. Harry is just about to encourage her to make her inquiry when a surge of confidence suddenly overtakes her body, and she’s spitting it out in a quick and confused voice.

“Why haven’t you introduced me to your friends?”

Out of all the causes for her guarded demeanor, the topic of his friends had been the farthest from his mind.  The question catches Harry so off guard that he, for what feels like the first time, doesn’t have a quick response already formed on the tip of his tongue.  Instead, his own mouth falls open in surprise, and he casts a quick look at the girl from the edge of his emerald eyes before turning back to the road in front of him.

He knows the answer to her question, of course; it’s the same answer that he’s given to his friends every time they’ve asked him to invite Y/N to a bar trivia night, or a weekend barbecue, or a club outing.  And, truthfully, it’s a question that’s been floating more at the forefront of his mind for the last few weeks as he and Y/N have continued to spend time together, gradually becoming a constant in each other’s lives. However, he didn’t expect it to be at the forefront of her own, as well.  

And the answer, really, is quite simple: if Y/N were to spend time with Harry’s gang of friends, there would be a larger possibility of her realizing that there’s something off about all of them.  Like how they all have a specific jeweled accessory that they’re never without, or how none of them seem to ever grow weary, or how they all have the same cold skin and slight shadows around their eyes.  Surely her keen eyes would catch how, despite the copious amount of shots and number of pints they throw back, none of them seem to become inebriated as easily as normal people would, and they can walk out of a club with their heads held high, free of stumbling or exhaustion.  It’s with careful planning and—truthfully— sheer luck that Harry’s managed to present himself with a halfway-human appearance, and he has no doubt that it would be ten times harder to keep up that charade when the chances of her discovering what he is quintuple.

“Uh…” His brow furrows while searching for a valid response to give to the mortal beside him— one that would avoiding hurting her feelings, while still sounding believable. “I-I dunno, really.  I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

The quiet “oh,” that slips from Y/N’s downturned lips alerts Harry that, no matter what response she was expecting, that wasn’t the right one.  She tightens her cardigan-clad arms around her middle as she nods tightly, keeping her gaze fixed pointedly on the passenger window.

Harry rubs his bottom lip with his ringed index finger— another nervous tic of his— as he tries to remedy the tension that’s been brewing between them since she first stepped into the car. “I mean… this whole thing—” He gestures between the two of them, and although the urge to take her hand makes his fingers twitch, he returns his grasp to the steering wheel instead of allowing himself to try and extract her palm from the fabric it’s hidden beneath. “— has been between just the two of us, so I didn’t really think… it mattered.” He finishes lamely, knowing that his justification is just making things worse. “Does it need—?  I mean, did you want—?”

“Well, it’s just…” Y/N lifts and lowers her shoulder in one quick motion, the cardigan once again sliding down to reveal the strap of her tank top underneath and a path of smooth skin that Harry yearns to touch. “It’s kind of like a— I don’t know, a marker?  Like if something is going… well…” She spares him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the passing scenery. “You tell your friends.  I’ve, um, I’ve told mine about you— like, my friends back home, over the phone— and if they weren’t so far away, I know they’d want to meet you, so I guess I—”

“You’ve told your friends about me?” Harry cuts over her, the shock laden in his voice raising it from its usual low drawl. “What did you tell them?  What did they say?”

An anxious flush begins to creep up Y/N’s neck and onto her cheeks, and Harry suspects that it’s not from the warm wool of the cardigan. “I did, yeah.  A couple weeks ago.  They called and asked how I was doing, if I had made any interesting friends yet.  And, well— I’ve pretty much only got you right now, so I kind of had to say something.” She lets out a weak laugh, more air than anything substantial. “I just said that we, um, we were seeing each other, kind of.  Like, mostly we’re friends, and we hang out, and—”

“We do more than hang out.” A grimace tugs at Harry’s own lips at her simplified explanation of their complicated relationship, and he risks an elongated look at the girl beside him, trying desperately to read her expression with no success. 

“I know that, but— like, we’re not dating, right?  It’s not… that was the best explanation I could give.  I don’t think there’s a proper label for what we are— not that we need one.” Although Y/N’s laugh holds more substance this time, Harry can still detect an undercurrent of tension in the sound. “Either way, they said they wished they could meet you, so I was just wondering— your friends know about me, obviously.  We’ve met a few times quickly, but we’ve never, like, had a proper introduction, you know?  I met Xander and Niall in the hallway, and Mitch briefly when we were having a movie night at your place… you talk about Adam a lot, too, and I’ve never even seen him in person.” Turning her head towards Harry with slow hesitation, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression so frighteningly open that it makes Harry’s stomach turn. “Do they not… do they not want to meet me?”

Despite the quiet and cautious cadence of Y/N’s voice, and the way it twists around Harry’s unbeating heart like a vice, the question draws a soft laugh from the vampire.  Shaking his head adamantly, Harry rakes a hand through his curls before it goes to tap against the steering wheel decisively. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it.  They’re actually quite eager to meet you. As of late, I haven’t been able get through five minutes without Niall asking about you.  He pries like a gossipy nan and s’been getting on my nerves, honestly.”

Relief spreads through Harry as the admission brings a gentle upturn to the corners of Y/N’s soft lips, but it’s short-lived as another thought pops into her mind, and her cautious tone returns at the realization that—

“So you don’t want to introduce me to them, then.” She states quietly, a clear degree of hurt present in both her tone and her eyes as she twists her body beneath her seatbelt to face him head on.  As certain as she is in her assumption, the cautious shadow that sweeps over Harry’s face serves as confirmation of her statement, and it creates a hollow pit in her belly that grows with each passing moment.

Y/N is aware that their relationship— or whatever it is, because they still haven’t put a title on it, and that’s a whole other complication that she can’t dive into right now— is about as far from normal dating as they can get.  She’d fucked Harry before she knew his last name, he’d told her to take him deeper before he’d even told her where he was from, and he’d asked her on a date two months after they’d met, mostly out of territorial jealousy; everything that they’ve done has been out of the traditional order.  But still, she thinks, picking at her nails as the strain between them becomes palpable in the worst way, there are certain things that you do when you’re interested in someone.  Certain milestones that indicate that a relationship is viable and can be sustained for an extended period of time.  Meeting someone’s friends usually comes around the two month mark, and by Y/N’s calculations, that means they’re nearly two months overdue.

Which is fine, Y/N tells herself, dropping her gaze from Harry’s stormy sea glass eyes as she chastises the self-pity coursing through her veins.  Everything about their relationship has been done out of order; why should meeting Harry’s friends be any different?

Except it is.  As much as she hates it, it just is, because it’s not even that she hasn’t met them.  It’s that Harry, with his guilt-ridden eyes and darkened demeanor, clearly doesn’t want her to.

“Y/N,” His gentle utterance of her name draws her from her thoughts more than his hand crawling across the leather seat does.  It’s not until his cool fingers weave through hers that her fidgeting stops, and she even notices that he’s moved. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them, I just—”

“It’s fine, Harry.” She insists softly, despite the tightness in her statement making it obvious that it’s very much not fine.  She pastes a thin smile onto her lips as she shakes her head, trying to appease him as best she can. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Harry squirms in the driver’s seat, tightening his hand around the steering wheel as he heaves a sigh through his nose.  Y/N might be saying that, but the look in her eyes tells a different story.  Does she really think that she can look at Harry with such a wide, wounded expression, and he won’t bend over backwards to make things right?  The thought, although scathing, rings true in Harry’s mind as he worries his cheek between his teeth.  Does she not know the lengths he’s willing to go to just to make her feel better?  For fuck’s sake, he’s making a four hour round trip just to take her to a bookstore in San fucking Diego.  Somehow, without Harry noticing it, this human has managed to influence him in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine anyone ever would again.  Is he supposed to believe that she’s unaware of that?

Shaking his head tersely at her previous reply, Harry squeezes her fingers in his own, clearing the newly formed lump from his throat. “Yes, I do.” He says firmly, looking at the girl from the corner of his eye. “I can tell where your mind is going, love, and I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yeah?” Despite the hurt still splashed across her irises, there’s an echo of a challenge in her tone. “So you just hide all of your… hook-ups from your friends, then?”

“You know I don’t have hook-ups, Y/N.  There’s no one else, there’s just— there’s you.  I only have you.” Harry makes his words as plain as can be, without any joke or teasing to downplay the sincerity of what he’s saying— or attempting to say, because his throat feels so tight that he can barely choke out a single syllable. “And that’s why I haven’t introduced you yet.  I… I like what we have.  This—” He raises their clasped hands, bringing the back of her knuckles to his lips so he can plant a chaste kiss over her soft skin. “I like it.  We’ve spent these last few months in a bubble, just you and me, and it’s been…” A smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips, nervous and shy, but tinged with hope. “S’been amazing.  And I’m just… not ready to give that up yet. I…I don’t know how to word it, really.  I’m not good with, um—” With emotions, he thinks to himself. He’s not good with expressing any of this, but he forces himself to try. “It just feels like what we have is something I want to keep private, because it’s special. It’s kind of like when you were a kid and you got a new toy, yeah? And you didn’t want anyone to touch it because you liked it so much, you wanted to keep it all to yourself. It was something so personal, you didn’t want to share it…” 

Harry trails off to look over at Y/N anxiously, and then comes to a sudden realization of the unintentional mistake he’d made by using such a materialistic analogy. His voice comes out rushed and apologetic. “And I’m not saying you’re an object or anything! I just wanted to explain it better and that’s the first thing that popped into my head. Did that...make sense? It probably sounded a bit dense. Or very dense. I’m sorry.” Harry knows he’s babbling aimlessly now, and with a surrendered sigh, he lowers their hands to the seat, still keeping Y/N’s fingers locked tightly with his. “I don’t want to share you, petal.  That’s what it comes down to, really— just me being selfish.  I like having your attention all to myself.”

Y/N listens attentively to Harry’s explanation as a new wave of blood boils to her cheeks, warming every inch of her body.  As much as she still has her doubts— about his reasoning, about their whole arrangement— she wants to believe him.  She wants to believe him more than anything in the world.  

So do it, she tells herself, grazing her lip between her teeth as her gaze remains glued on Harry’s (ridiculously attractive) side profile.  Believe him.  He’s never given you reason not to.

“Okay.” She finds herself saying, and she decides that it’s her turn to raise Harry’s knuckles to her lips for a kiss.  His skin is cool against her mouth, as always, and she lingers against him before lowering their intertwined hands to her lap. “I get it.  I like what we have, too; I don’t want it to change.  Plus,” She can’t resist tacking on a dig, glancing at Harry with a sly look. “From the brief interactions we’ve had, I think Niall and I are pretty compatible, so I don’t blame you for wanting to keep us apart.”

Although Harry barks out a laugh, he barely manages to hide the flash of crimson that streaks through his eyes at the suggestion. “Please,” He shakes his head as he strokes his thumb over the back of Y/N’s knuckles in a possessive manner. “I’m not worried about Niall.  If I was going to be concerned about you leaving me for any of my friends, it would be Adam.” Y/N shoots him a curious look, and his dimples pop out of his cheeks as he elaborates. “Good sense of humour, attractive, and arguably the most sane out of all of us, present company included.  But he can’t perform in bed like I can, so I think that’s a solid deterring factor.  And I doubt he’d drop everything to drive you to a bookstore you found out about through— where did you say you heard about this place again?”

“Uh,” Y/N drops her gaze from Harry, turning her head straight back to the road as she shifts in her seat. “I, um, I saw it on TikTok.”

The vampire snorts obnoxiously, pulling his hand from Y/N’s to rake his fingers through his rouge curls. “Jesus Christ, of course you did.”

Y/N matches his scoffing with ease, crossing her arms over her chest with a defensive air. “Don’t give me that tone!  This is exactly why I didn’t tell you! You know, you can actually find a lot of valuable information on there—”

“Yeah, because filming yourself doing the Renegade is a really great use of your time.”

“I didn’t say— wait—” The mortal girl quirks an eyebrow as she regards him with disbelieving eyes. “How do you know about the Renegade?”

“There’s a reason we blocked the app from Niall’s phone.”

///

Much to Harry’s relief, the drive back to Los Angeles begins a lot smoother than the drive to San Diego had.  

The bookshop had been extremely similar to the antique store they’d been to a while back— it had the same rustic, messy aesthetic that gives a cozy, homey vibe, and it had sprouted a seed of nostalgia in Harry’s chest. They’d wandered around for a bit with their fingers intertwined, rarely breaking away from each other for too long for the sake of maintaining their buddy system. The pair had filtered through the extensive array of titles and knickknacks, walking under archways built out of novels and winding through tall shelves full of vintage collectibles. Y/N had entertained herself with grazing over the spines of all the different books they’d passed, her eyes glazed with a form of childlike wonder he’d grown so fond of seeing. And while Y/N had been losing herself in all the old treasures the shop had to offer, Harry had found himself losing his thoughts to her dreamy smile instead. 

Satisfied with her purchases of Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet, as well as a used copy of Jane Eyre (“Look, Harry, it has little notes in it from the previous owner!  Isn’t that neat?”), Y/N had settled into the passenger seat with ease, a light smile on her face as she buckled her seatbelt.  Harry’s own mood is considerably brighter than it had been on the previous drive, but his shift in energy had only partially been caused by his purchase of a new Simon and Garfunkel album.  Truthfully, Harry thinks, as he watches Y/N thumb through her new second-hand annotated book (the irony of her affinity for literature written from Harry’s original time period is not lost to him), his attitude is merely a mirror of the girl next to him.  It’s much more difficult to be in a good mood when she’s in a sour one, but on the flip side, it’s nearly impossible to be grumpy when she’s showing such a sunny disposition.

Her inquiries from their drive to the bookstore are worrying him, of course.  He knows that he’ll have to introduce her to his friends eventually, especially if he wants to keep this agreement between the two of them up.  He also knows that it’ll be ten times harder to do so with Niall running his mouth, Xander making sly digs, and Mitch and Adam watching him with parental-like concern.  Perhaps it would be easier to just call this all off right now, before things continue to progress.  It would certainly be better for Y/N, he’s sure of it.  Y/N, who gets excited over annotations in her books.  Y/N, who sings along off-key to the radio even when she doesn’t know all the words.  Y/N, who innocently presses tender kisses to his throat in a manner that draws an obsolete warmth from every limb of his undead body, and who smiles at his stupid inappropriate jokes and returns them with her own, and who fits into his arms like she was made for the sole purpose of filling them perfectly.

Y/N, who is reaching between the two of them, intertwining their fingers together with a practiced motion, and—

“Thank you for taking me to the bookstore.” The human girl murmurs, her lips grazing the back of Harry’s knuckles as she speaks. “I really do appreciate it, although I’m sorry I pulled you away from your friends.”

Harry’s woes melt away as she pecks across his icy skin, and a grin begins to jolt his lips as he brings her hand to his own mouth. “Don’t be sorry.” He smears a kiss to the back before dropping their tangled palms to the seat between them, his thumb caressing over her velvety flesh. “You’re much better company than the four of them.  And much prettier.”

“You’re such a flirt.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the comment, but leans further towards Harry in her seat. “And a liar.  We both know that Mitch is prettier.”

“Mitch?” Harry’s emerald eyes widen in appalled surprise, the corner of his lips twitching once more in amusement. “Out of all of my friends, you think Mitch is the prettiest?  What about Xander?  He’s quite the vain one, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugs one shoulder in a light manner. “I like Mitch’s hair.  The long style works for him.”

“Ah, it’s the hair.  That makes sense; it’s always the hair.” Nodding sagely, Harry allows his lips to pull into a full grin. “So you like it long, hm?  Suppose I should keep growing mine out, then?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sherlock.” Y/N shoots him a smirk that’s much more mischievous than his own. “I said the long hair worked for him, not you.  Who’s the vain one now?”

Despite the jesting tone of her voice, jealousy twinges in the back of Harry’s mind as his eyes darken from emerald to forest green.  He forces his lips to stay upturned as he offers a response that’s only half a joke. “Ouch, Watson.  S’not very nice, especially considering how I’ve driven you to San Diego and back today.  I think I deserve a bit of praise, don’t you?  Instead of you mocking me—”

“I’m not mocking!” Y/N’s protest is muffled around the entertainment in her voice, the rainbow cardigan once again slipping from her shoulder as she shakes with suppressed laughter. “Making one little comment isn’t mocking!  It would be mocking you if I acted like you do when you get in front of a mirror— you make this one specific face, like you’re trying to pull a Blue Steel, and—”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Harry huffs as he yanks his hand away from Y/N’s, swiping it through his loose ringlet before clamping it back around the steering wheel. “Ungrateful little wench, aren’t you?  I have half a mind to pull over right now and—”

“A wench?  I’m a wench?” Y/N’s laughter grows louder, filling the entire Cadillac with the unabashed sound that, despite his act, warms the pit of Harry’s stomach. “Alright then, Merlin. What, are you going to put me to work in a labour house?  Is that what a wench does these days?”

“First of all,” Harry quips, giving her a flat glimpse, “I’d be Arthur, not Merlin. Main character complex, remember?”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, proceeding to lower her head in a dramatic bow. “My apologies, sire. How could I forget?” 

“And second of all,” the vampire states slightly louder, talking over her sarcasm, “no, because apparently, all wenches do nowadays is just make fun of the men who volunteer to spend four hours in a car with them without so much as a ‘thank you.’”

The mortal girl’s upturned mouth drops open in amused disbelief. “What—?  I said thank you!  Literally three minutes ago!” 

“Did you?  I don’t recall.” Harry sighs airily as he smoothly guides the car around a bend in the road. “All I remember is you saying you think Mitch is sexier than I am.”

Snorting loudly, Y/N crosses her arms over her middle as she gives a small shake of her head. “Alright, I think that’s a bit of a stretch.  I just said he has nice hair.  And, while we’re on the topic—”

“Watch it.”

“— his mustache is cool, too.  It suits him.”

“You know, I could grow a mustache if I wanted to.” Harry can’t help the pout that plumps his lips, nor can he help the whine that creeps into his voice when Y/N giggles at the sight. “It’s true!  I could!  I just choose not to.  And, really, you should be thanking me for it, because it saves you from getting a carpet burn between your thighs.”

“So I should be thanking you for driving me today, for not growing facial hair…” Y/N ticks off the items on her fingers with a ridiculing gleam dancing through her eyes. “Anything else we need to add to the list?”

Harry tuts as he thinks, pursing his lips in consideration before letting out a sharp exhale as a sly smile carves his dimples into place. “That cardigan you’re wearing.  You could thank me for letting you borrow it— although ‘stealing’ might be a more accurate term.”

A miffed expression rises to Y/N’s face just as a flush does. “I didn’t steal it!  I’ve just been borrowing it, like you said.”

“Mmm.  Alright.” Harry hums in the back of his throat as he glances at the girl beside him, kinking a brow expectantly. “And when can I expect it back?”

“Fairly soon, actually.  It—” Y/N’s cheeks boil with more heat as she drops her attention to her lap, clearing her throat gently before continuing. “It, um, it doesn’t really smell like you anymore, so…”

Silence falls between the two as Y/N’s voice drifts off, leaving behind only the sound of Fleetwood Mac gently drifting through Harry’s speakers to cut through the thickening tension that fills the vehicle.  It’s only the faint sound of Y/N’s own shallow breaths that reminds Harry that he needs to fake his own, and he sucks in a deep gasp of air, his throat burning as her thick honey and lavender scent settles on the back of his tongue.

“Well,” He begins cautiously, gauging her reaction from the corner of his eye while keeping most of his gaze glued to the road. “You can always steal it again after I get it back, yeah?  It’ll be good as new.”

Harry nearly heaves an audible sigh of relief when he sees the edge of Y/N’s mouth twitch. “Not steal.  Borrow.” She corrects, her voice as tentative as his.

The heavy atmosphere in the car begins to dissipate as Harry rolls his eyes with fondness. “Agree to disagree, dove.”

Y/N lets out a sound of dissent as she rubs her palms down her legs, drumming her fingertips against her knees with finality. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, H.  And thank you for not growing a mustache.” She giggles out, throwing a coy smile his way before her expression grows more gentle. “And thank you for driving me today, although I’ve already said it.  I’ll have to think of a way to repay you.”

“Oh, I could think of a few.” Harry says with a suggestive smirk, thrumming his ringed fingers against the steering wheel. “How do you feel about spending the night?  We could order dinner from that Thai place you like, take a nice bath, and I could spend a few hours between your thighs while you make those sweet little noises I like so much.  Sounds relaxing, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Y/N agrees, keeping her voice as light as she possibly can at the mention of Harry’s skilled tongue working her over. “But that doesn’t seem like much of a thank you on my behalf.  Shouldn’t I be the one giving you something?”

Harry casts a look at the mortal girl with a raised brow. “Shouldn’t I get to choose my own reward?”

The fact that he sees the action of eating her out as a reward makes Y/N’s tummy froth. She really doesn’t know how she got so lucky, truly. “You should, but I can think of something better.”

The creature licks his lips once at the promise of something more enjoyable than her taste on his tongue. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie in the bath.”

“Actually…” Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she casts Harry a sideways look through her lashes, twisting her body beneath her seatbelt to angle towards him. “I was thinking of something more immediate.”

The question of what she means by that dies before it can make its way out of Harry’s mouth, stopped in its tracks the moment Y/N’s fingers travel across the leather seat between them.  She rests her palm on his thigh for a moment before beginning to massage the muscle beneath his trousers, her delicate fingertips just brushing over his inseam as her hand works its way higher.

A choked groan is all Harry can manage when her touch travels over his suddenly-growing bulge, and it takes all of his focus not to veer the car off the road. “Y/N,” He says, his accent low and thick with warning. “‘M driving, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Her voice thrums darker than normal as her palm presses flat against him, moving in a slow circle over the plaid fabric with insistence. “I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?  You can keep driving.”

The laugh that rolls from Harry’s lips is breathless and strained. “Yeah, except I can’t when you’re— fuck—” Y/N squeezes along his hardening shaft, and Harry tightens his hands around the steering wheel with nearly enough force to bend it. “‘M gonna crash this bloody car if you keep doing that.”

“No, you won’t.” The mortal girl smiles sweetly at him as her nimble fingers pop the button of his tartan slacks, grasping his zipper and tugging it down so slowly that it’s almost painful. “You can multitask, can’t you?”

“Not like— God—” Clenching his jaw, Harry casts a pained glance at Y/N, only allowing himself a moment of looking before forcing his attention back to the road.  What he sees in that moment, however, is a mischievous glint in her eyes that’s hidden beneath set determination, and the combination would send a shiver down his spine even without her soft hand creeping beneath his trousers. “This doesn’t feel like a reward, pet.  Feels like torture.”

Y/N shrugs lightly, continuing to rock against Harry over his boxers as her free hand reaches for her seat belt and clicks the release button. “Maybe it is.  Maybe I want to see if you can stay just as focused as I did when you made me cum on that ladder. Remember?  Right in the middle of that antique mall?”

Harry watches as her seat belt retracts, a flash of worry striking through his body. Before he can voice his concern for her safety, her hand is dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Y/N,” He strains to get her name past his lips, his abdomen tightening as she grips him snuggly, and her palm feels like agony and salvation all at once. “If you make me cum in my pants with an hour left in our drive, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Or maybe…” Shifting across the seat, Y/N leans into Harry’s ear, her breath hot against his cool skin as she pumps him slowly and ignores the comment he’d moaned. “Maybe I just feel the way you did that day.  Maybe I want to tease you a bit.” She uses the precum that’s begun to steadily leak from his tip as lubricant, twisting her hand around his length to elicit a hiss from Harry’s clenched jaw. She takes the shell of his ear between her teeth, nibbling at it just to feel him writhe in response. “What was it you said to me, H?  When you slid your fingers inside me in that little music room?”

Harry offers no response other than the short puff of air that leaves his nostrils as he clenches the wheel harder beneath his palms.  He keeps his eyes locked on the road, knowing that if he looks down and sees Y/N working him beneath his slacks, he won’t be able to restrain himself from yanking the car to the side of the road and throwing her into the backseat.  And however wonderful that sounds— because it does sound incredibly wonderful, especially when Y/N swipes her thumb teasingly over his bubbling tip— he can’t let himself give into her.

Y/N, however, doesn’t seem to accept defeat so easily, and begins to drift her lips down Harry’s jaw and neck.  While the area had previously been a sensitive spot for Harry in the worst way, he’s repeatedly come to find that the sensitivity he feels when Y/N caresses him there to be an entirely new and pleasant sensation. 

“You said you wanted to have fun, remember?” She licks over the curve of his throat, her own breathing growing heavy when she feels Harry’s Adam’s apple bob beneath her tongue. “Now it’s my turn, don’t you think?”

“Thought—” Harry swallows thickly again, his hips unconsciously thrusting up slightly into Y/N’s hot palm. “Thought this was about thanking me, wasn’t it?  Not getting even.”

Y/N pulls away from his skin with a coquettish look in her wide eyes, her brows raised and lips parted into a small pout. “Are you saying that my mouth isn’t enough of a thank you?”

“Your—?  Oh, fucking hell—” Harry nearly swerves the car into the other lane of traffic when Y/N frees his length from his trousers, the cool temperature of the air-conditioned car sending a shudder down his spine.  The sensation only increases when Y/N dips her head down and extends her tongue to tease his cherry tip with the textured surface. “Y/N.”

“That’s what I thought.” The human girl says smugly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips even when she wraps her mouth fully around his head and sucks gently, just enough to draw a breathless whimper from the man above her. 

With one hand still grasped tight around the steering wheel, Harry threads his other into Y/N’s hair, roughly tangling his fingers between her silky locks.  He doesn’t guide her head as he usually does, but the idea of being able to move her if he wants allows him to feel a semblance of control. 

Y/N clenches her thighs together as she bobs her head down further, heat pooling inside her belly as she feels Harry tug on her hair with the lightest pressure.  She trails the tip of her tongue down Harry’s expanse, following the prominent vein that pulses underneath her touch. “Do you still want me to stop, baby?” She asks softly, looking up at him through her lashes as she pumps him in a slow motion, batting her lashes sultrily. 

“No.” Harry whines the word as he presses his head back into the seat rest, his neck flexing as he forces his gaze to stay pinned on the road. “No, love, just— fuck, just keep going.” He grits his teeth when he feels her nose smudge along one of his fern tattoos, his next phrase coming out as a barely contained growl. “You’re down there already, so you might as well.”

Tucking her loose hair behind her ears, Y/N takes Harry back into her mouth, pushing herself further and further down his cock at a pace that’s nearly agonizing.  Harry twists his hand within her roots to create a makeshift ponytail, holding the locks out of her face so that she can focus better on the task at hand.  He feels the mortal girl smile around his length, her tender fingertips drawing a little heart along his exposed pelvis as a cheeky thank you. 

As the highway straightens out, Harry risks lifting his hand from the steering wheel for a quick moment, and his deft fingers quickly find the volume button of the stereo to lower it to a quiet lull.  He wants to hear every sound of Y/N’s throat opening up for him, and the muted noises she releases at the taste of him in her mouth.  

Of course, all of that is nearly overpowered by his own sounds of pleasure, and he struggles to keep himself quiet as he grips the wheel with renewed force. “Fuck, doll, look at you...I just…Christ.” The last word comes out as an elongated groan, his eyelids fluttering as her tongue massages down his extent in slow and even strokes. “Just like that, darling. God, you’re so good. Such a pretty mouth with such a filthy fucking tongue, hm?”

Harry throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder as another vehicle passes them, and a flash of territorial protection runs through him at the possibility of someone looking into the car and seeing Y/N touching him like this.  The sight of her acting like such a bold little minx is for his eyes only, and that thought combined with her slow, blissful motions pushes him to inch his foot towards the gas.  Harry wants to put a bit of distance between them and the other traffic on the highway, which will insert some much needed privacy into the situation. 

His acceleration, however, is interrupted by a particularly rough bump in the road, and his body jerks in his seat as they drive over it.  He hears the sound of Y/N gagging before he registers the searing sensation of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and he risks a peek downwards to see Y/N’s watery eyes blinking up at him in disorientation.

“Baby—” He tugs her head up from his lap, concern mingling with the pleasure in his voice as he evaluates her well-being.  Her expression is hazy from her ministrations, and she blinks tears from her irises, keeping one hand wrapped firmly around his length as the other wipes away the wetness at the corner of her eye. “‘M sorry.” Harry gulps thickly as he smooths his thumb over Y/N’s scalp, trying to soothe any discomfort he may have caused. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods in a jerking motion as her mood darkens lustfully, and she swipes her thumb over the glistening tip of his cock before answering. “I’m fine, H.  Just caught off guard.  Don’t worry.” The rasp in her voice is evidence of her actions, and Harry hates how the sound goes straight to his throbbing length in her hand.  Undeterred by the harsh thrust that had choked her a few moments earlier, Y/N leans down once more to smear more sloppy kisses to the head of his prick, rubbing the slit against her bottom lip to elicit a cracked gasp from Harry’s lungs. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“You—You are.  God, you fucking are.” The praise falls easily from Harry’s raspberry lips as her mouth returns to its previous distraction, fully suckling on the leaking head as her hand continues to work him in a practiced manner. “Feels like a dream, sweetheart, t-the way you take me down your throat like that.”

The mortal girl keens at the validation, and uses it as fuel to push herself further down his shaft again.  She makes sure that she’s mindful of how deep she’s taking him, keeping her hand wrapped firmly around the base as a buffer in case they hit any more rough patches of road.  With that worry eased, she allows herself to focus on massaging his pulsing prick with her tongue, alternating movements with strong sucks to his sensitive tip. She twists her wrist at a rising pace, matching it to the tempo she’s established with her mouth, working him over messily and swimming in the strangled noises that pour out above her.

Y/N sniffles lightly, talking over Harry’s thick cock to the best of her ability, her voice garbled and raw. “You’re so fucking big, Harry. And so pretty, too.” She moves her hand lower down his expanse, carefully cupping his heavy balls and fondling them between her fingers, preening at the fractured grunt that filters from her lover’s taut throat. “And so full.”

“Please, baby…” The immortal’s quiet plea sends electricity coursing through every cell in her body, his grip on her hair tightening to the point where blots of color speckle her foggy vision. “Don’t stop. Just please don’t fucking stop.” 

“I want it.” She whispers around him, the warm breath of her words puffing down his prickling skin and sending goosebumps across his clammy thighs. “I want you to fill my mouth, Daddy. Want every last drop.”

The creature sucks in a rattling breath through the cracks of his teeth, waves of pleasure erupting along his cheeks and down the knobs of his spine, all because of how erotic her delicate voice sounds as it expresses such explicit confessions. “You’re fucking ruining me, dove.” 

The girl tugs at Harry’s balls gently, rolling them around her palm again as she gives a particularly harsh suck. He can’t stop the loud whine that tumbles down his tongue in response, his hips bucking upwards a tad in unrestrained need. “I want you to give it to me, H. Please? Want you so bad.” 

Harry throws his head further back against the headrest of his seat, his jaw dropping open in a silent moan as his heavy eyelids lull over his rolling irises, tears blearing his vision until he can barely make out the road in front of him. “Gonna—Gonna give it to you, pet. Gonna give you every last bit, all for my sweet girl.” 

Y/N hones her blurred sight above her onto Harry’s face, more warmth flooding the area between her thighs. He looks gorgeous as ever, with his prominent features slack in ecstasy, his clavicle cutting into the sweaty skin visible along the collar of his fitted tee, and with his unusually dark eyes framed by his long lashes. His chest is heaving wildly as he tries to keep his composure, his cross necklace glimmering in the sun with every rapid rise of his defined muscles. His sharp jaw is wound taut, the tendon along the structure ticking as he gazes at her drunkenly from above his sculpted cheekbones. His chestnut curls as matted along his temple and over the nape of his neck due to the heat of the moment, his thick brows are knitted together in pleasurable gripe, and his teeth-swollen lips are parted in aroused wonder at how skillfully she’s taking every last inch of him without any hesitation whatsoever. 

Y/N watches him intensely, drinking up every twitch of his expression and every soft groan he tries to stifle, her tongue lapping at him with more excitement than before. Harry locks eyes with her through his foggy haze, the corners of his flushed lips jolting upwards into a cocky open-mouthed smirk when he sees just how fucked he’s got her, despite the fact that he’s barely lifted a finger through the entire process. He slowly tongues over his chapped lips, glimpsing back up towards the highway for a split second to make sure he’s avoiding any other oncoming cars. He then returns his attention to the human, giving her head a playful tug and feeling the tip of his cock nudge along the roof of his mouth, resulting in a low hiss streaming past his condescending simper. “Why don’t you take a picture, princess? It’ll last you longer.” 

Y/N gives a quick squeeze to his balls, sly satisfaction weaving its way into her chest when she feels him jerk in response, a whined curse of, “Fuck me.” slipping through his defenses. “Maybe you should watch your tone while I’m down here.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her challengingly, his palm grasping the back of her head with more intent and forcing her down, her nose smearing over his tummy as he hits the back of her throat deeper than before. He holds her there for a second, reveling in the way she constricts around him as soft gagging sounds bounce off the walls of his Cadillac. 

After a few seconds, he pulls her back up his cock to a more reasonable length, humming smugly as she shudders and coughs dryly, her eyes twinkling submissively. His voice comes out strained, but its dark and accented tenor holds its usual unyielding authority, as well as arrogant chiding. “And maybe you should learn not to talk back to me. Guess I’ll have to pull the paddle back out sooner than expected, huh?” 

A shiver coils down Y/N’s spine at the reference to that night. It happened a few weeks ago, but the memory is fresh in her mind as if it’s only been hours. It’s nearly impossible to forget, given everything Harry had put her through, and she often finds herself thinking back on it whenever she needs some relief and doesn’t have his company as help. 

The human murmurs her next sentence shyly, her watery eyes regarding him with a certain type of wistfulness that makes his balls ache. “Maybe you should.”

Harry lets out an airy chuckle at her eagerness, which slowly molds into a gravelly moan when she returns to dipping her head with faster, sloppier strokes. A few strands of hair have escaped the ponytail in his palm, and he takes great care in tucking them back behind her ears with his index finger, which then trails across her cheek affectionately. “Maybe I will. But right now, you just worry about finishing me off. Then, we’ll see if I’m feeling up to it some other time— if I feel like you deserve it.” 

Y/N nods her head obediently. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“‘Course, darling. Anything for my proper little slut. Especially when she’s taking me down her throat like such a good fucking girl.” 

Y/N’s only reply is a broken mewl, and she allows herself to become immersed back into the action of giving Harry the orgasm she so desperately wants to deliver.   

She can taste precum as it dribbles onto her tongue, a precursor to Harry’s impending climax, and the flavour makes her center throb.  She has half a mind to remove him from her mouth and beg him to pull over so that she can properly ride him, but she doesn’t doubt that doing so would add hours onto their travel time.  There’ll be time for all that once they’re back at his place, she reminds herself, pulling off of him just enough to lick her lips before lowering herself again.  Right now, there’s just one thing she wants above all else, and if the sounds Harry is making are any indication, she’s fairly close to getting it.

“So fucking close, angel.” Harry pants, his abdomen contracting over and over again as he struggles to keep the car moving at a steady and consistent pace. “Gonna make me cum, aren’t you?  Want Daddy to pump that pretty mouth full?”

Y/N hums around Harry as he yanks on her hair again, more for the sensation than to actually guide her.  Still, she pulls up from his prick with a pop, looking up at him with doe-like eyes as she replies. “Mhmm.” She hums again, giving him a particularly hard pump and delighting in the groan that rolls from his tongue. “Wanna taste you.”

“You— fuck, darling, that’s fucking it.” Harry’s words echo from his throat in a ragged gasp as he twists his jeweled fingers around her locks once more, straining his head back against the seat to keep himself from looking down again as she retakes him down her throat. “I’m gonna fucking— Oh my God, baby, please—”

Y/N digs the nails of her free hand into Harry’s pelvis, scraping over his plant tattoos as she feels his toned tummy tighten beneath her touch.  It only takes one more squeeze of her hand around his balls and one last determined suckle to draw his orgasm from him, and she lifts herself until just the head of his cock is in her mouth as he spills onto her tongue.  Her own eyes flutter shut as she whines at the salty taste, swallowing it down without a second thought.  She keeps her lips locked around him, wanting to capture every aftershock that spurts into her mouth, feeling ropes of cum splatter across her taste buds as Harry squirms against his seat, whining in encouragement.

She continues to milk him for everything he’s worth, repeatedly prodding the twitching vein protruding along his prick and scraping his sputtering head against the inside of her cheek, wanting to urge every last drop out of him. She only pulls away when the young man whimpers from above, shakily tugging on her hair to alert her that he’s crossing into more sensitive territory.

“Fucking shit…” He murmurs weakly, his breathing erratic as he eases off the gas pedal to reduce the car to a slower pace, rather than keeping the accelerated speed he’d fallen into as he came.  He combs his fingers through Y/N’s mussed locks as a faint, exhausted chuckle rolls from his lips, his thumb ducking down to collect a bit of the mess that had seeped out of the corner of her mouth. He pushes the digit past her swollen, colored lips, his breath catching as he watches her clean it off without a single hitch. “God, minx, I’m gonna need a little warning the next time you decide to do that. Thought I was gonna crash the car a few times.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Y/N reassures him quietly, looking up at him with a fond smile before turning her attention to his softening prick.  She licks up one stray bead of cum from his tip, delighting in the strangled sound the action draws from Harry. She then proceeds to carefully tuck him back inside his trousers, buttoning and zipping them up with ease.  She even takes care to tuck his red and black striped shirt back inside the waistband, but only after she presses a gentle kiss to his still-tensed abdomen, nuzzling her nose across his happy trail and feeling butterflies flutter in her belly when he lets out an appreciative mewl.

Harry inhales deeply as he watches her sit up from the corner of his eye, his hand slipping from her hair to his own to fix the disheveled curls. “No, I suppose not.  I have precious cargo.  Speaking of—” He reaches over Y/N’s body, and with one hand still on the wheel, fumbles to fasten her seatbelt back across her chest and lap. “Y’gotta keep this on if you ever do that again, alright?  S’not safe to have it off for so long.”

A fond smile tugs at Y/N’s lips as Harry sews his fingers over her thigh, squeezing lightly over her jeans before massaging the muscle.  She’s noticed that he’s grown more and more touchy and protective each time they’re intimate with each other, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s fingertips stutter over Y/N’s leg for just a moment, and the twitch of his sensitive cock beneath his slacks nearly causes Harry to swerve the car again. “Fuck, don’t say that right now.” He mumbles brokenly, his voice much more raw than he’d like it to be. “Don’t think my poor dick can handle it.”

Laughter bursts from Y/N’s chests, and the contagious sound draws a giggle from Harry’s own body as she settles her fingers over his, twisting them together in an instinctive motion. “Too sensitive?” She teases, lulling her head back against her seat rest while keeping her eyes focused on him, sweetening her voice down into a babying drawl. “You poor thing.”

A bright pink blush sears itself onto Harry’s cheeks as he clears his throat, tightening his hand around the wheel again to ground himself. “Yeah.  I only really like overstimulation when I’m the one administering it, not the one receiving it.  And you—” He squeezes her thigh as punctuation. “—are much too stimulating, especially when you’re looking at me like that.”

Another honeyed giggle falls from Y/N’s strawberry lips, and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile continues to grow. “I like seeing you like this.” She says decisively, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she reaches over and affectionately twirls one of his loose ringlets around her finger. “All flustered.  It’s cute.”

“Are you seriously calling me cute after deep-throating me while I drive?” Harry asks incredulously, a snort echoing from his throat as he shifts around in his seat.  He’s already uncomfortable in his trousers again, both from the wetness she’d left on him and the way her words are making him stiffen again. 

“Mm.” Y/N thrums in agreement as her free hand reaches for the stereo, dialing up the volume again so the sounds of The Kinks can be heard without strain. “I think you’re cute— very cute, actually.  Even moreso when you get all blushy. Am I not allowed to say that?”

Another layer of warmth soaks itself across Harry’s small ears and stinging nose, and he tries to play off his childish reaction with a casual scoff. He can’t deny the way the compliment makes him feel, though. It’s different from the praise she usually gives him, which tends to be sexual and in the heat of the moment. But this is much more intimate in such a sweet and tender manner, and he hasn’t received that type of innocent attention from someone in much too long. He likes it, he decides. Especially when it comes from Y/N.

She makes him weak, and though he’d normally seethe at the idea of anyone ever making him weak again, he comes to find that the softness she coaxes from him is something so different from the mainstream definition of that dangerous word. She makes him weak, yes, but not in a destructive sense. This girl— this simple mortal girl with bones made of glass and skin of fine velvet— makes him weak in the knees, and in the pit of his stomach, and in the cement walls he’d built around his phantom heart. She makes him vulnerable in new places that have been entirely foreign to him for the last twenty decades, if the glowing warmth surging through him is any indication. And for the first time in a while, he’s beginning to think that maybe— just maybe— that’s not such a terrible thing.

The vampire comes to the sudden epiphany that being weak for someone is unorthodox to him because it’s a human trait. Allowing yourself to form a deeper connection with someone— with a person completely the opposite of what you are— requires compassion and understanding. It requires willingness and empathy, as well as trust and pure intentions. It requires humanity. And that’s what Y/N is doing, Harry realizes. She’s taking that last wilted shred of humanity he possesses and is urging him to use it. Even though it’s not intentional on her behalf, and even though she has no idea of just how small that fragment of humanity is, it’s somehow miraculously working; just her being the caring soul she’s always been seems to be enough to awaken that part of him. 

Despite the fact that the immortal would normally laugh at such a stupidly cringey and cliche concept, there’s no denying that at this point in their little LifeTime movie crossover, it’s true. That’s why it feels so utterly weird— she’s bringing out a side of himself he hasn’t shown in literal centuries. She makes him feel the one sensation he didn’t think was possible for him to ever experience again: She makes him feel alive. 

Oh.

…Oh. 

Harry snaps himself out of his inner turmoil, sucking in a shaky breath and exhaling slowly, releasing all his consuming thoughts. Relying on his supernatural impulses to focus on any oncoming hazards, the creature allows himself the indulgence of shifting his hunter eyes onto Y/N for a lingering glance.  The sun is just beginning to set outside the car window, ducking over the cityscape and washing the distant buildings in mellow shades of soothing pinks, cozy oranges, and buttery yellows. The colors cast a golden light through the glass of his car, and it settles onto Y/N’s soft features like stardust, highlighting her flyaway hairs, the gentle slope of her plush lips, and the dreamy tinge in her captivating eyes.  

If Harry didn’t know any better, about both what she is and about not believing in such ridiculous tales, he’d think she was an angel.  Not that an angel would ever be seen with the likes of him.

“Y’can say that, petal.” He murmurs after a lengthy pause, reluctantly returning his attention to the long stretch of road in front of him, his palm still secured over Y/N’s denim-covered thigh.  If he focuses enough, he can feel her pulse through the fabric, and the steady thumping sends a strange prickling through his hand and into the rest of his body. “You can say whatever you’d like, and I’d listen.”

“Oh, is that so?” She pokes at him with a cheeky grin, using her nail to absentmindedly trace the blood red daylight crystals embedded into the eyes of his lionhead ring. “So you’re actually offering to listen for once, instead of making your cocky little comments?”

The edges of the vampire’s lips jolt with endearment. “Just this once, yeah.” 

Except it’s not just this once, Harry thinks to himself, adding on the words he will most likely never have the courage to speak aloud. I’d listen to anything and everything you have to say. No matter how small and insignificant it may be, or however random and useless you might think it is. I’d listen. For you, always.

Harry doesn’t express his private thoughts, but he pretends that he has, and he pretends that the smile Y/N is gifting him at the moment is her heartfelt response to his silent confessions. 

He adores it more than he should, and how could he not? It’s so blinding, he thinks it could very well burn him.

///

It’s not that Harry is nervous for tonight, because he’s not.  

Spending his Friday nights with Y/N has become as regular as clockwork, and Harry knows that it’s overdue in their routine for him to cook a dinner for her, given that she’d had the courtesy of doing it for him. He’s already picked up her favourite red wine to accompany the gnocchi recipe he’d sweet-talked Vincenzo into sharing with him (Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto— the one she’d enjoyed on their date at Bella Vita), as well as snagged all the ingredients for the lavender lemonade cocktail he planned to make her when she first arrived.  He’d even gone so far as to freeze a few petals from edible flowers into his cubed trays earlier in the day, just to up the ante on his already stunning presentation.  

He’s already set out shining dinner plates along his kitchen island, tidied and dusted his entire condo, and made each of his friends promise to leave him alone for the night.  He’s prepared everything that’s been within his power into sheer perfection; nothing could possibly go wrong.  So he’s not nervous, because everything is fine and because he never gets nervous. Being nervous is for morons, and he’s far from being one, so he just isn’t. It’s that simple. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous. 

Except that he can’t manage to get his mahogany belt to lie properly against his waist (he’d searched in vain for his black Gucci belt with the logo buckle, but hadn’t been able to find it), the woven leather tail twisting repeatedly whenever Harry tries to tuck it beneath the rest of the belt.  And while the rational part of his mind knows that this doesn’t matter, and that he can just guide the tail into a loop along his olive trousers, the irrational part of his mind— which, unfortunately, just happens to be in control at this very moment— knows that tucking it in won’t look nearly as chic as folding it just right to lay the excess along the length of his thigh.

He’s already crafted the rest of his outfit so carefully, spending almost an hour deciding on the red and black patterned vest to pair with the trousers, and an additional forty-five minutes choosing which short-sleeved button up to layer beneath it.  He’d ended up picking a yellow top with indigo swatches along the collar, proceeding to tuck the shirt sleeves up along the sleeves of the knitted vest to give the fit a stylish flare. Harry thinks he looks good (although, to be fair, he always does), but he knows that if he turns his attention back to it for too long, he’d end up tearing it off and starting all over again.  However, judging by the clock that’s ticking from his bedside table, Harry knows that isn’t an option.  It’s 5:42 PM, and Y/N had said she’d be here by 6:00, and if Harry isn’t ready by the time her delicate knuckles rap against his front door, then she might just decide to turn on her heel and leave, and Harry won’t ever get the chance to ask her—

The creature stops short in his tracks, his fingers freezing over the leather of his belt that he’d just managed to settle into place.  He’s not asking her that, he reminds himself, loosening his limbs just enough to nervously twist his mother’s ring around his pinky.  He’s already decided that— and undecided it, and decided it again— after his road trip epiphany the previous weekend.  It doesn’t matter just how weak, or warm, or alive, or just plain human Y/N makes him feel.  He knows what this is, and has known since the beginning, and there’s just no way that he can bring himself to ask Y/N to be his—

Harry can’t even force himself to think of the word. 

He makes long strides towards his dresser, picking up the string of pearls lying on top of the varnished wood and fastening them around his icy neck.  What meaning could that word even hold for him, anyways?  He’s a vampire, and though Y/N makes him feel the complete opposite, there’s no way he could ever feel so human as to give into the notion of having a girlfriend.  A girlfriend leads to a fiancée, which leads to a wife, which leads to the expectation of a family, and Harry knows that none of those things are compatible with the immortal afterlife he lives now.  If Mitch, who is— by any accounts— ten times the man Harry could ever be, hasn’t even managed to lock Sarah— another vampire— into a solid relationship after three years, how could Harry delude himself into thinking that he could do that with a human?

And even if he, with all his commitment, abandonment, and trust issues aside, could have a relationship with a mortal— not any mortal, he reminds himself, but the only mortal that’s ever managed to capture a sliver of his genuine attention— that doesn’t mean he actually wants one.  Why would Harry ever want to be tied to one place, or one person?  Why would he ever want to have to phone someone before going somewhere, or have to check in on them when they’re doing the same?  Why would he want to deal with having to manage someone’s emotions, problems, and life?  He’s traveled the circumference of the world and back again, and seen more changes to society than any human could ever comprehend. He loves being reckless, and untethered, and not responsible for anyone other than himself. He enjoys being impulsive and not having to worry about his actions falling back on anyone else’s shoulders other than his own. It’s who he is— it’s who he’s been for a while now— and it’s who he had imagined he’d continue to be for another two centuries. 

It’s like that one country song that tormented his radio in the early 2000s— the one about life being like an endless road and about how people should enjoy it while it lasts. He believes the exact words are, “Life is a highway, I want to ride it all night long” or something of the sort. Horrendous song, but it held a pretty decent message. 

So with all of this taken into precise consideration, why would he, in his right mind, ever chain himself to one geographical location, and one single fleeting soul?

The answer floats to the forefront of Harry’s mind as he casts a glance towards his half-opened dresser drawer, where a pair of Y/N’s pastel blue sweatpants are folded neatly on top of his own pairs.  She’d left them there a few weeks ago, and while Harry had washed and dried them for her with the intention of giving them back, he’d decided it would be a better idea to keep them here in case Y/N ever ended up staying the night without planning to.  Just so she’d have something comfortable of her own to put on before falling asleep in Harry’s bed, on the side that he now keeps made up just for her.  

Why would Harry ever tie himself to one person?  Because that person is Y/N, and she’s not just a person.  She is— in every way except officially— Harry’s girl.

Harry can’t even bring himself to deny that fact as he fixes the collar of his shirt and strides out of his bedroom, dimming down the lights before making his way to the glass staircase.  Every issue he’d brought up, every fact that he’s tried to use to convince himself that he doesn’t want a relationship, can’t even be considered an issue when it comes to Y/N.  He already does all of those things— checking in on her to make sure she’s alright, letting her vent about her stress, listening to her problems with an attentive ear, holding her hand whenever they’re together, kissing her forehead while she lays against his chest, switching her to the inside of the sidewalk to ensure her safety, moving strands of hair out of her face so they don’t become a bother— and he does it all gladly.  He’s come to adore the soothing comfort he receives when he walks Y/N to her door after a date, or double checks the locks after she’s inevitably invited him inside.  He delights in calling her during her lunch breaks to inquire about how her day is going, and to remind her that “iced coffee isn’t a substitute for water, peach.  You’ll feel a lot better on your shift if you drink a glass, alright?”  And even when her voice is strained and laden with anxiety as she curls into his side after a particularly rough day, it still sounds like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, and the weight and warmth of her body against his own acts like a relaxant to Harry’s cold limbs.  

He rolls his shoulders now as he skips the last two stairs and lands squarely on his leather Gucci boots (they’re one of his favorites, and though they’re a simple black, they have a rainbow impression along the lip that he thinks is quite chic). He releases a long breath as he absentmindedly studies over his art wall, his eyes landing on the painting of a deconstructed sunflower. The abstract piece reminds him of the night Y/N had come over to his condo for the first time, and he begins to feel that annoying yet familiar knot between his shoulder blades that always seems to form when he’s away from her.  It’s something he hadn’t even noticed until a few days ago; how his body grows rigid and stiff whenever they’re separated, like he can’t allow himself to exhale until she’s beside him again.  He supposes it’s a strange vampire tendency— something carnal and territorial inside of him that thinks it’s his job to protect Y/N, the decadent and intoxicating center of his strange obsession, and when she’s not around, unease threads into his muscles until he can be sure his primary source of blood is alright. 

Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s something deeper inside him— some other reason to keep her out of any harm and an arm’s length away. However, he refuses to indulge that unsettling mystery right now. It’s too fucking complicated to dwell on.

Ambling into the kitchen, Harry begins to dig through his lower cupboards for the apron he hadn’t bothered to slip on when he was cooking earlier.  Pushing aside the white cover with the words “World’s Best (pancake) Tosser” stamped onto the front (it had been a gift from Niall, delivered with a sly grin and a cheeky comment about how the apron was too accurate to pass up), Harry selects the butcher’s apron printed with the phrase “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’!” He slips the loop over his head and ties the straps behind his toned back with a quick motion, the edges of his lips quirking at the pompous joke. He knows Y/N will make a comment about it. 

He hadn’t bothered with the apron before when he’d been preparing the gnocchi simply because his loungewear isn’t necessarily that important, but now that he’s changed into something much nicer than the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d previously worn— and after he’d struggled with deciding on the outfit for so long— the last thing he wants to do is splash sauce onto himself as he navigates his kitchen.

Harry’s mind continues to race with nearly incomprehensible thoughts as he gathers the last of the ingredients needed to finish the meal, his nimble fingers easily peeling the skin from a clove of garlic before he begins to mince it with practiced skill.  Maybe that’s the cause of all his confusing feelings, he muses as he tosses a knob of butter into his preheated pan, scooping the garlic onto his knife and adding that to the mix as well.  Maybe that instinctual feeling to protect is the root of all his fantasies of a relationship.  He can’t possibly want— can’t actually believe that he’d...

Except he does.  

Sighing grimly as he snags a wooden spoon from a kitchen drawer, Harry nudges the cabinet shut with his hip before beginning to stir the sizzling concoction in his pan.  Somehow, against all odds— against all reason— he’s become attached to Y/N.  So attached that he’d spent an hour begging Vincenzo for this specific recipe when he could’ve so easily googled a different one and recreated it to near perfection.  So attached that he’d driven to three different liquor stores to find her favourite brand of red wine, which he’d set to chill in his fridge hours ago, because even though a cabernet sauvignon is supposed to be chilled for forty-five minutes at most, Y/N likes it icy cold.  So attached that he’d taken care to freeze individual flower petals into ice cubes, just so he could make her a cocktail flavoured with honey and lavender, the exact same way she is.  So attached that, for the first time in twenty decades, the concept of a relationship doesn’t draw a disgusted gag from his throat and doesn’t send a ghostly spike of pain to his neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” He mutters the words out loud to himself, as if speaking them audibly will reinforce their meaning.  Opening the fridge with a rough tug, Harry nabs the quart of cream he’d purchased earlier that day, bending the mouth of it open and pouring it smoothly into the saucepan and giving it a stir.  It doesn’t matter if he wants a relationship, because there’s no way that Y/N does.

A bitter laugh tears its way through his chest as he reaches for the bowl of gorgonzola cheese he’d shredded earlier, scattering the ingredient into the saucepan and slowly mixing it in.  He’s arrived at the same point he has all week when he’s had this argument with himself. The same fact that’s stopped him in his tracks each time he’s dared to think that— if he should ask— Y/N would say yes to him becoming a more permanent fixture in her life.  She’d say yes, he thinks.  Or he hopes, at least.  She’d say yes, until she wakes up in the middle of the night to Harry caged over her with crimson irises, terrifying shadows below his waterline, black veins webbing out from his eyes, and a blood-soaked mouth bared to reveal his dagger-like fangs. Then, she’d be gone.

Not gone, he amends in his head, the thought somber and acrid in his mind as he reduces the sauce to a simmer.  He’d have to go after her, of course, but not in the way a man usually goes after a woman.  Despite how they’d joked about it casually, Harry most definitely doesn’t belong in a LifeTime movie.  No, he’s from a much darker genre— less leading man, more malicious creature that lurks in the night— and the only thing he could do when he chases Y/N down would be to wipe all traces of himself from her mind entirely.  That’s the ending they’d be destined for if he let himself buy into his romantic delusions.  It’s better not to put a label on anything.  No labels keep a degree of separation between their two lives— at least, that’s what Harry tells himself.  And as much as it pains him, a degree of separation might be exactly what they need.

And yet, when Y/N knocks on his door two minutes later, just as he’s sprinkling various ground herbs into the sauce and setting it onto the back of the stovetop to wait until they’re ready to eat, Harry can’t help the giddy grin that immediately decorates his dimples. He hurries to untie his apron and tosses it onto the back of one of the chairs lined against his kitchen island, dragging a ringed hand through his purposefully tousled curls as he nearly super-speeds to the front door of his condo. He trips on his way there, spewing curses as he barely saves himself from face-planting the ground like an imbecile. He straightens himself out with a petty huff, slowing down slightly and being more mindful of every step he takes. His smile has already returned before he even yanks the door open.

Y/N— his Y/N, he allows himself to think affectionately— is dressed from head to toe in his own clothes.  Well, almost head to toe, he corrects, casting a sly glance at the way her black jeans hug the curve of her hips too perfectly to be his own pair.  But he recognizes the black and white speckled short-sleeve button up that’s french-tucked into the high-waisted denim, and shrewdly notes the addition of a Gucci belt looped around her waist— the very one he’d been searching for earlier.  She’s even styled the shirt the same way he does, with half the top buttons undone.  However— Harry licks his lips unconsciously as his eyes hover over her exposed chest— she’s paired the top with a delicate looking black lace bralette that catches his hungry gaze the moment he spots it.  Even the black ankle boots she’s wearing are reminiscent of his own fashion choices.

“Y’know,” Y/N’s amused voice cuts through his stupor, drawing his attention back from the obvious canvas of her body and up to her glittering eyes. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you to check out my tits before even saying hello.”

Harry’s mouth crooks sheepishly in response as he reaches out to her, looping his muscled arms around her waist and pulling her inside the condo and against his body with ease. “Hello.” He murmurs obediently, thumbing at her waist over the silky fabric as a teasing yet fond cadence sews its way into his voice. “So this is where my clothes keep disappearing to, hm?  I searched for that belt for an hour today.”

“Shouldn’t have left it at my apartment, then.” Y/N counters easily, curling her hands against Harry’s chest.  He can already feel her heat beginning to web through his entire being, warming him in a manner nothing has in the last two hundred years. “And you said tonight’s dress code was casual formal— which makes zero fucking sense, by the way— so I figured the best way to conform to that would be would be by wearing your own clothes.” A drop of hesitance begins to colour Y/N’s tone as she casts her gaze towards his own, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tries to read between his teasing words for any hint of actual annoyance. “Is that… okay?”

“Perfectly okay, angel.” Harry soothes the worry lines that have formed between her eyes by stamping a kiss onto her forehead, allowing himself to linger for a moment to inhale her familiar scent of sugar and flowers.  It seems more powerful today than it usually is, almost bowling him over right there in the foyer, and he takes a step back to regain control of himself under the pretense of closing the door. “Honestly, I’m a little miffed that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

“‘Miffed’?” The mortal girl laughs as she reaches down to retrieve something from the ground, and it’s only then that Harry realizes that she’d had an overnight bag in her hand before he’d tugged her into his grasp and caused her to drop it.  “Who says ‘miffed’?  Are you a sixty-seven year old woman named Betty?” 

Although he allows a chuckle at her incredulous question, Harry’s attention has focused in on the bag inches away from her outstretched hand.  Cursing himself for being too wrapped up in her appearance to notice the item she’d been toting, Harry quickly fetches it from the ground before she can, carrying it further into his apartment before setting it down on one of the island chairs, as if the small distance could make up for the initial lack of manners he’d displayed. 

“No, I’m not.  I’m just British.” He should bring the bag up to his bedroom, he thinks, just so Y/N doesn’t have to wonder where her clothes are when she’s fraught with exhaustion later. But that would mean having to leave her side, and the grip her fragrance has on his senses right now won’t allow him to do so. 

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot.” Y/N lilts with an exaggerated air, another giggle rising from her petal-like lips as she leans against the marble countertop on her elbow, propping her chin up in one hand and resting the other on top of the stone.  She regards him with all the affection that he doesn’t deserve, and yet always seems to crave, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to not grasp her chin in his hand and sift their lips together just to taste her laughter. “Along with ‘pip pip’ and ‘cheerio,’ right?”

“Yes, those phrases are definitely at the top of my vocab list.  You’ve heard me say them a million times.” Harry rolls his eyes playfully, shaking himself from his distracted thoughts as he steps back behind the counter to effectively put a little bit of much needed space between him and the mortal girl.  His restless hands are already outstretched to his bar shelves before he even asks, “D’you want a drink, darling?”

Y/N watches with innocent curiosity as Harry sets two lowball glasses down on the counter before reaching into his cupboard for a jar of honey, which he spoons onto an awaiting plate.  He rims the glasses in the syrup before dipping them into sugar, sparking confusion in Y/N as she tries to decipher what cocktail Harry is making her.  Her befuddlement only grows as he extracts a bottle of clear liquid that she assumes is vodka and a purple concoction that she can’t identify. “What are you making?”

“Lavender lemonade.” Harry answers swiftly, reaching into a drawer for the small double-ended measuring cup tool that Y/N still can’t remember the name of, as well as his crystal cocktail shaker.  Y/N observes with wide eyes as he fills the shaker with ice and vodka before picking up the mysterious liquid. “This is lavender syrup.  Not homemade, unfortunately, but I do buy it from a little organic grocer I know at the farmer’s market.  Adds a nice floral note to the drink, and mixes well with the lemonade.” He caps the container and shakes it expertly (the way his muscled arms ripple with effort doesn’t go unnoticed by her, as it never does) before setting it down on the counter and making his way to the fridge freezer. “S’where I get my honey, too.” He chances a look over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N dip her finger into the honey pooled on the plate and pop the digit into her mouth, and Harry has to force himself to tear his eyes away as she sucks lightly on her fingertip, her cheeks just barely hollowing. “Do you like it?”

“Mhmm,” Y/N hums around the digit as she keeps her eyes shamelessly glued to Harry’s ass while he bends down to open the cooled drawer, retrieving a tray of cubed ice and coming back over to add one large block into each lowball glass. “Are there flowers in there?” She asks in wonder after retracting her finger from her mouth with a pop, leaning over the table more to observe the decorative ice that has filled the cups.

“Mm.” Harry matches her hum with a more pleasured undertone, both from her noticing the small detail, and from the unobstructed view of her cleavage that her new position allows him.  He picks up the shaker and strains the light purple lavender and vodka mixture into the glasses, topping off each cocktail with a can of sparkling lemonade that he’d also retrieved from the fridge. “S’pretty, isn’t it?” He asks, stirring the drinks with a spoon before holding up one of the glasses to the light and handing it to Y/N. “My own creation.  You’re the first person to try it.”

Their fingers graze as Y/N accepts the glass from him, sparking electricity up her entire arm, and she can’t help the irreverent moan that thrums in the back of her throat as she brings the glass to her lips, tasting the honey and sugar first before the lavender coats her tongue. “This is so good, H.” She praises, licking a lingering dab of honey from her mouth between her words.  Twisting the glass in her hands as she regards the lilac drink, Y/N eyes him over the rim of the crystal, pupils blown wide. “I didn’t think honey and lavender could ever taste so good.”

“You know, I used to think that, too.” Harry’s mumbles knowingly as his own eyes drift a shade darker. He watches the human girl’s neck strain with her swallow, as if she knows he’s trying to keep his gaze away from there and she’s beckoning him back. “But it’s my favourite flavour combination now.  Can’t ever seem to get enough.”

The comment goes right over the mortal girl’s head, just as Harry knew it would.  His expectations of the cocktail in his hand are also met from his very first sip; although the concoction is delicious, it pales in comparison to the fragrance wafting across the island from Y/N.  He may as well be drinking water, honestly. But he knows he’ll end up repeating the recipe a few more times at the very least, just because Y/N tells him that it’s her favourite drink he’s ever made.

“You say that every time I make you a new drink, dove.” Harry can’t help but quip coyly at the repeated compliment, setting his crystal tumbler against the counter with a quiet thud. “Am I supposed to keep believing it?”

“Obviously. Especially when each drink keeps getting better and better.” Y/N licks a drip of honey from the rim, her tongue delicately capturing the sugar crystals before her lips settle back onto the edge to take another sip. “You would be an amazing bartender, but we’ve already talked about that before.”

“We have, yeah.” Harry smiles softly as he recalls the conversation they’d had weeks ago, where she had said his drinks were better than anything she’d had at a club, and he had responded by saying he doesn’t have the patience to be a bartender. That conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago, and considering how much closer they had become since, it quite literally could be. “But refresh my memory, will you? Why is it that I’d make such an amazing bartender?”

Y/N gives Harry a jokingly flat glance as a response to his smug tone, but decides to humor him, nonetheless. “Well, you obviously have the mixology skills, and I don’t doubt that the whole thing you have going—” She nods her head to him over the island with a teasing smirk. “—would get you endless tips.”

“My whole thing?” Harry repeats the phrase with an air of faux confusion. “What do you mean, my whole thing?”

He knows what she means, of course.  But he won’t deny himself an opportunity to hear Y/N feed his ego with sweet-spoken praise.

Y/N doesn’t buy his innocent act for a minute, but still indulges him, yet again.  She likes to see Harry preen under her compliments just as much as he likes to receive them. “You know…” She casts her eyes over his figure slowly, picking out every detail she can comment on as she wedges her bottom lip between her teeth. “Your whole look— the tattoos, the muscles, the dimples, the sparkling green eyes, the shiny curls… all of that would have any drunk customer draped over the bar for you.  And even if you couldn’t get by on looks alone, you’re absolutely charming.  To the point of ridiculousness, honestly, but,” Y/N eyes him suspiciously, and while her words are mostly in jest, she can’t deny that she’s seriously thought them at some point in time. “I’m not entirely convinced it’s genuine.  Although being able to fake that kind of attitude would serve you well in a crowded bar.”

Whatever Harry was expecting to hear among the praise, an accusation of dishonest behaviour wasn’t it.  His brow furrows deeply as his lips turn down into a displeased grimace, and he drums his ringed fingers over the marble countertop as he cocks his head to the side. “What d’you mean?” The question is earnest now, no longer a coquettish teasing remark, and the warmth the mortal girl had provided him with begins to subside as a flash of icy doubt digs shards through his chest. “Not genuine?  Does it seem like I’m faking it or something?”

Y/N teases her lips with her tongue, unable to stop the nervous tic as she hears the displeasure that clearly strains Harry’s tone.  Setting her own glass down on the counter, Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I just mean, like… I don’t know.  I don’t really think that now, but in the beginning…”

“What?” Harry prompts her with more intensity than he’d meant to, but he’s spent so much of this past week analyzing their every interaction while wrestling with his own thoughts that he’s already on edge; he needs to hear what Y/N had thought of him when they’d first met.  His own recollection of the memories has made him flinch multiple times, particularly the times when he’d thought that Y/N was as boringly ordinary as humans come. He can only imagine what her take on the situation is. “Did I— was I rude, or—?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” She hurriedly assures him, shaking her head hard enough that her loose locks bounce around her shoulders. “You weren’t rude at all— the opposite, actually.  I don’t know, it just seemed… like it was too good to be true, y’know?” Her voice grows impossibly softer as she traces her finger over the rim of her glass, her eyes dropping from Harry’s like it hurts her to hold them. “Like, there was no way that someone could be so attractive, so funny, so good in bed—” Harry can hear blood creep up the nape of her neck against her will, beginning to pour into her cheeks. “—and so charming.  Something had to be an act.”

Despite the urge Harry has to justify his actions, he knows there’s nothing he can say that could prove Y/N’s original perception of him wrong.  And, in all honesty, he has no right to.  As much as he’d like to argue the fact, and as much as he did genuinely come to enjoy being around her, Harry can’t deny that from the first moment he’d approached Y/N in that club, he’d dialed up his charm as he always did without a second thought.  He’d flattered her, flirted with her, done everything he could to convince her that she should take him home so he could indulge in the two things he’s always manipulated people for: sex and blood.  And when that worked, he did it again, and again, and again, until they’d fallen into the pattern they have now.  He’d never lied, of course, and he prides himself on that— every compliment he’d paid her had been rightly deserved.  But even that justification doesn’t stop the shame that’s twisting its way through his limbs and making his head heavy.  

She had thought something had to be an act, and she had been right.  Harry himself was an act, in every aspect of the term— stretching the truth about his past, opening himself up just enough to make her open herself in return, setting her up so that she’d become dependent on their relationship. And all so he could sink his teeth into her neck without a second thought.  

He can’t exactly pinpoint when all that had changed— singing “Non-Stop” in his kitchen?  The jealousy he’d felt when he spotted her on a date with that insipid idiot, Jacob?  Seeing her in that yellow sundress when he picked her up for their first date?— but the fact that it had changed doesn’t erase how it had started. It doesn’t erase the cruelty he’d hidden beneath his calculating words, intricately-placed caresses, and dirty promises.

“Harry.” He’d been so caught in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Y/N had moved until she’s standing right in front of him, one of her velvet hands twisting into his own as the other tucks a loose curl back from his creased forehead. “I don’t think that now.  You know that, right?” Even after securing the ringlet, she keeps her palm pressed against his cheek, and Harry can’t help but lean into the burning heat her touch provides. “I just— I’d never met anyone like you.  There was no one like you where I grew up.  I didn’t think someone could be so…” Y/N worries her lip between her teeth again, and Harry wishes he had enough in him to smooth the bite mark with a touch as soft as her own. “I didn’t know you yet.  But I do now.”

The vampire inhales a shaking breath as if he needs it to live, lifting his own free hand to wrap over the palm Y/N rests against his cheek.  Weaving his fingers through hers, he drags her hand lower until her skin is secured over his lips, and he smudges a gentle kiss against her handprint.  There’s something so tender in her words— no one could ever accuse Y/N of being disingenuous.  But he needed to hear this, he thinks as he presses his mouth repeatedly to her palm, the throbbing of her pulse in her wrist catching against his cheek.  He needed to hear how she thinks she knows him.  It’ll serve as a reminder that he can’t allow himself to succumb to the weak thoughts he’d battled earlier in the day.  As much as Y/N assumes she knows him, there’s things that she’ll never understand— things he would never allow her to understand, because she doesn’t deserve such a terrifying burden— and how could he keep up that pretense while allowing her to call him her boyfriend?

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Harry mutters the words into her fragile skin, inhaling her intoxicating aroma deeply until his throat burns in agony.  It’s a small price to pay for what he’s put her through. “It’s alright.  I don’t blame you for doubting it.” The smirk he forces onto his face is nowhere near believable, but he manages to keep the strain out of his voice enough to sell it. “I’m pretty hard to believe, y’know?  Especially when you grew up with people like Cucumber Dick.”

Successfully diffusing the moment, Harry’s comment tugs an irritated groan from Y/N’s chest, and she takes a step back from him as her hand falls from his face, despite her other fingers still remaining tied with his own. “You can’t just keep calling him Cucumber Dick, alright?  He has a name!”

“Yeah, Bradley.” Harry says in distaste, his nose wrinkling as he shakes his head slowly. “S’honestly worse than Cucumber Dick.  I’m doing him a favour— a bit of charity work.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat thoughtfully as she steps back around the kitchen island, Harry’s arm extending over the countertop as she tugs his hand along with hers. “Then don’t do me any favours like that, alright?  Can only imagine what you call me when I’m not here.”

A few names pop into Harry’s mind— dream, darling, angel, and countless others that he’s murmured to himself in the privacy of his condo— but they’re tainted by the memory of his friends confessing how they’ve talked about her when he hasn’t been around to hear it.  How they’ve compared her to different foods, used that to reference her, as if that’s all she is to him.  As if she isn’t the only person who has managed to make him feel something in over two lifetimes.

In the rational part of Harry’s mind— which, once again, is sadly not the part of his mind that’s ever in control— he knows that he can’t blame his friends for thinking that.  It’s his own fault for being so insistent on that fact over the last few months.  How many times had they questioned his motives behind his daily phone calls to her, or how often he found himself dropping everything just to spend some time with her?  How many times had he rolled his eyes at their assumptions that he wanted more from the mortal girl than he’d ever admitted?  How many times had he asserted that there was nothing more that she could offer him than her body and her blood?  They’d only listened to what he was saying, despite knowing that Harry’s reassurances were false.  Did any of them suspect that things had changed for him now?  Or did they still think that Harry’s only motivations behind his relationship with Y/N are primal?

Harry pushes the badgering thoughts from his head as best he can as he reaches for his apron that’s still lying over the back of the chair.  He can’t dwell on those thoughts now.  If the turmoil twisting inside of him hasn’t subsided by the end of the night, he’ll call Mitch once Y/N is fast asleep under the extra blanket he keeps on his bed just for her.  Although he doesn’t relish the thought of admitting he was wrong to the likes of Xander or Niall— he knows their teasing and taunting would never end— he can talk to Mitch about it without the worry of judgement.

“Why don’t you put a record on, petal?” Harry asks absentmindedly, nodding his head towards the record player set up in the corner of his living room as he slips his apron back over his head. “I just have to boil the gnocchi, and then—”

“Wait, wait wait,” Y/N cuts over him with an increasingly gleeful expression, rounding the edge of the island again to tug on the strap of Harry’s apron. “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’?” She repeats, unable to bite back the giggles that are rising through her throat. “Please tell me you didn’t buy that for yourself.”

His troubling mindset disappears the moment laughter falls from her lips and echoes around the kitchen. “‘Course I did.  And why wouldn’t I?” Harry simpers as his deft fingers easily secure the ties behind his back in a neat bow. “I’m Mr. Good Lookin’, and I’m cookin’.  S’only the truth.”

“Your vanity is astounding.  Truly.” Y/N trails her finger from the strap of the apron to the pearls around Harry’s neck, stroking the silky stones with the lightest touch. “Like, borderline narcissistic.”

Snaking his arms around her waist, Harry easily pulls the mortal into his body, securing her against his chest just as he had done when she’d first arrived.  It’s comfortable for him to have her pressed against him like this.  The steady rising and falling of her chest and hummingbird beat of her heart against his own unmoving organ keeps him centered, like his own personal lifeline. 

“Is it so wrong to be confident in my appearance?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his dimples pop from his cheeks, and he slides his hands from Y/N’s back to her ass, cupping and squeezing firmly in appreciation.  His smirk only grows as Y/N’s cheeks begin to boil from the suggestive contact. “How can you contradict me when it gets such a reaction from you?”

“I think that has less to do with your looks and more to do with where your hands are.” She quips dryly, and yet her nails dig into Harry’s exposed collar bones with the slightest of pressure, a surefire sign of just how much his touch affects her.

Harry leans forward as the girl’s breathing grows more erratic, and he nuzzles his nose along hers while keeping the smallest of spaces between their lips. “Either way, I’m getting what I want, aren’t I?”

To his immense pleasure, Y/N’s words are breathy and strained when she replies, a side effect of the shallow inhales her body draws against his. “Which is?” 

“You.  More specifically, you melting under my touch like you just can’t get enough of it.” Harry drags his lips across Y/N’s for no more than a second before continuing his path up her jaw, only stopping when he can feel the flushed shell of her ear beneath his mouth. “You should indulge your vanity a little more often, sweetheart.  S’quite fun, honestly.”

Y/N shivers beneath Harry’s touch, her eyelids fluttering as his cool breath rolls over her ear and down her neck.  Turning her head to the side, she locks her half-lidded gaze with his own before slotting their lips together to indulge in the lingering taste of honey and lavender that sits on his tongue. 

Despite his instinct to draw her closer while curving her body into his own, Harry separates their lips with a gentle nudge of his forehead against her own, his breathing growing just as erratic as Y/N’s.  Control, he reminds himself as heat prickles along his icy skin from the tender pads of Y/N’s hands.  This isn’t like their first meetings, when he could invite her over under a pretense and take her against the counter before they’d even finished their drinks.  This is different now.  She’s different now.

“Why don’t you go put a record on?” He says again, his voice noticeably deeper than it was when he first made the request. “And I’ll finish getting dinner ready. Sound alright?”

Y/N manages to nod without removing her forehead from his, but that seems to be the only movement she makes; her palms remain pressed firmly against Harry’s tattooed biceps, even after he reluctantly releases his hold on her body.  She can’t help it— it feels too good to be so close to the young man to allow herself to willingly walk away.  Something in his presence is so calming, so steady to her, even when he’s whispering obscenities in her ear.

But outweighing the need to be next to him is her desire to make him happy, and if he wants her to pick out a record… “Alright.” She nods once more as her hands slip from his skin, trailing down his forearms and grazing his wrists before falling to her sides. “Any record?”

Harry drags a ringed hand through his curls, his lithe fingers tugging on the locks before falling to his side in a loose fist. “Any record.” He confirms as he reaches for a kitchen drawer, tugging it open to extract a long metal spoon. “Anything you want to listen to.”

He watches as a serious expression paints itself over the human girl’s face, as if the task he’s given her is of the utmost importance.  She turns on her heel and marches out of the kitchen as if on a mission, and as Harry turns towards the now-boiling pot of water on his stove, he knows that his own face reflects a look of fondness.  It’s too easy to let his guard down with her, he thinks as he ladles his homemade gnocchi into the rolling water.  When she looks at him, there’s such an openness in her expression that he can’t help but allow himself to be seen.

But being seen doesn’t always feel so sweet, which Harry remembers the moment he hears Y/N’s melodic voice ring from the living room. 

“When did you get a piano?”

Harry’s hand freezes mid-scoop, the few gnocchi that had been dangling on the edge of his spoon falling into the boiling water.  A bit of the liquid splashes out and lands on his arm, but quickly fizzes to room temperature once it meets his freezing skin. 

“Uh—” He clears his throat as he tries to refocus on his task, but his actions are much more frantic than careful as he finishes filling the pot with gnocchi. “I’ve had it for a while, remember?  I mentioned it to you before.  At the antique mall.”

When his explanation receives no response, he gives his own frustrated sigh, and sets down the polished spoon to retrace Y/N’s steps out into the living room.  As he expected her to be the moment he heard her question, he finds her with a reverent hand tracing the edge of the matte black Steinway grand piano that’s occupied a space in nearly every home he’s had since he purchased it in the 1920s.  Seeing her nimble fingers drift over the hand-crafted edge brings back a hazy human memory to Harry’s mind— a flash of sharply manicured fingers and a strangely pale hand, adorned with an opal ring as they danced over the pianoforte in an opulent sitting room. The sound of tinkling laughter that rang like a bell, pitched almost high enough to make his ears ache, and a soft, hypnotizing voice slathered in the most delicate accent he’d ever heard. 

Harry has to blink a few times to bring himself back to the present.

“What was that, darling?” He hopes his voice isn’t nearly as strained as it feels when he refocuses his eyes on Y/N’s waiting gaze. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said that you told me it was in storage.” She glides over the intricately carved music stand, the digit dancing across every twist and curve of the decorative panel. “Why did you bring it out?”

“Uh, I dunno, really.” An uncomfortable itch settles onto Harry’s skin, his stomach turning as Y/N takes a seat on the creaking piano bench set in front of the instrument. “I just, uh, figured it should be displayed somewhere, instead of gathering dust in a storage unit.  It’s a vintage Steinway, y’know?  Those need to be taken care of.”

In truth, the vintage instrument had rung Harry quite a high bill over the last few decades, not only in the price it cost to keep it in permanent storage, but in the services he’d had done to it once a year to keep it in its nearly pristine condition.  Despite keeping it out of sight to keep it out of his mind, he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let the instrument fall into disrepair, just in case he ever decided to display it again.  Or sell it, as he’d been leaning towards doing over the last few years— a genuine Steinway piano in condition as good as his had quite the high price tag.  But he’d never been able to force himself to part with it, as it looked too similar to the one he had originally learned to play on.  Even though those memories were tainted with the usual pain that came with thinking about his human life, it was still his life, and he ached to hold onto some part of it.  It’s why he had his mother’s ring, and his sister’s earring, and his father’s cross and pocket watch.  It’s why had a small wooden box hidden away under his bed with memorabilia from his first life.  As much as it hurt to remember— and it did, in ways he can’t possibly begin to describe— remembering seems better than the alternative.

“Well, if you want to show it off…” Y/N’s fingers are trailing down the fallboard now, inching their way towards the ivory keys with a daydream-like purpose. “You shouldn’t hide it away in the corner of the room.  It would look gorgeous in front of the windows, don’t you think?  A proper centerpiece.”

It would make a beautiful centerpiece, and he originally intended it to be so after the delivery company had dropped it off at his condo a few days before.  After bribing Adam and Niall with the offer to buy out their bar tabs for an entire month, the three of them had spent the afternoon rearranging the furniture in his living room to display the Steinway in the center of the room.  He’d thought that, knowing how excited Y/N had been to hear him play the piano in the antique store, she’d like to hear him play in his own home, on an instrument he knows like the back of his hand.  He’d even begun kicking around the idea of teaching her a few songs, but those musings had quickly turned sour as the instrument brought back more memories of his foggy human life.  In the end, he’d decided to restore his living room back to its original state with the addition of the Steinway thrust into the corner, where the ghosts of his past could plunk the keys quietly without drawing too much of his attention.  He’d done his best to ignore the instrument over the last couple of days, and in his hurricane of thoughts that had centered around Y/N, he’d nearly forgotten about its existence completely.

He can’t be mad that Y/N is asking about it; after all, he’d brought it out of storage with her specifically in mind.  But seeing the newfound object of his affections with her fingers poised over the keys brings back a rush of emotions he’d been repressing for the better part of two hundred years.

“It—” Harry clears his throat once more, trying to rid himself of the lump that is rising up like bile. “It took up too much space in the center of the room.  Wasn’t very cohesive.”

“That’s too bad.” The mortal girl’s words fall from her mouth in a murmur as her gaze remains locked on the keys, almost as if she’s in a trance.  Her finger begins to press down on the ivory with a slow and meticulous motion. “It seems like such a shame to—”

“Let’s— Let’s not get into that now, sweetheart.” Harry says hurriedly, his fingers catching her own before she can trigger the instrument to make a sound. “Dinner’s almost ready, and you—” He forces a grin onto his lips. “—still haven’t picked a record out.” Threading her fingers through his own, Harry gently tugs the human girl up from her seat on the piano bench. “Would you rather I do it instead?”

As he expected, Y/N wrinkles her nose with distaste as she rises to meet his emerald eyes. “No.” She scoffs as a quiet snort rises from her throat. “I don’t need to listen to some weird experimental 60s music while trying to eat dinner.”

While Harry would normally bite back at her dig, he just responds to her with a thin laugh and a smile without dimples. “Exactly.  So why don’t you pick something out,” He jerks his head over his shoulder to where his record player and vinyls sit neatly on a shelf lining the wall, ignoring the ghastly spike of pain that twinges his neck as he does so. “And I’ll plate dinner, yeah?”

“Alright.” She agrees, and Harry nearly breathes a sigh of relief before she finishes her phrase. “But you’ll play for me later tonight, won’t you?”

The phantom pain grows until it extends down Harry’s entire spine, filling every nerve in his body with a sense of anxiety and trepidation.  The last thing Harry wants to do is move his fingers over those weighted keys, and with the burning sensation now shooting through his fingers, making his hand twitch around Y/N’s, he’s not even sure he can.

But he is sure of one thing, and that’s the fact that he can’t ever seem to say no to Y/N.

“Yeah, dove.  Of course.” Keeping his voice even, Harry pulls her away from the extravagant instrument as inconspicuously as he can. “Later tonight.”

///

There are so many things that Harry has done over the last two centuries that have both angered and confused him.  

He’s held grudges against himself over the way he’s acted, the people he’s surrounded himself with, the people he’s allowed himself to trust, and the blatant disregard for human decency he’s allowed himself to succumb to.  In the last twenty decades, Harry has amassed enough vendettas for fifty lifetimes, let alone the one endless life he’s been given.  And yet, even with all of those missteps in mind, the fact that Harry ever looked at Y/N and deigned her an ordinary human might be one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever made. 

It’s so clear to him now— sitting across from her at his kitchen island, the few scented candles flickering between them doing almost nothing to cover her sugar and flower scent, her eyes reflecting back the burning flames and something else that Harry can’t quite put a finger on— that he’s not sure how he ever missed it.  How had he once leaned against the counter in her own kitchen, looked into those very same eyes, and managed to convince himself that it was only her blood that drew him to her?  How had he listened to her sweet and sensual voice murmur delicate phrases about her day and her emotions, and not realize that he was inching closer and closer in order to hang on every word, as if she had the supernatural ability to compel him as he did her?  How had he seen her in the smokiness of the club, with her fragile skin practically luminescent under the pulsing strobe lights, and thought that she was so utterly unmemorable and unnoticeable that he could easily take her home for one night without anyone wondering about her whereabouts?  How had he convinced himself that it would only be one night? 

There are so many things that Harry will always be angry about, will never forgive himself for, and his initial perception of Y/N is one of them. 

If he has any redeeming qualities, he thinks as he watches the mortal girl spear a bite of gnocchi onto her fork over the rim of his wine glass, it’s that he can, at the very least, admit when he’s wrong.  He can admit to himself that this girl— this self-assertive, stubborn, vivacious, kind-hearted mortal girl— is the most interesting and most intriguing human he’s ever met.  And as terrifying as that is, it’s also a little thrilling; it’s been so long since Harry has felt a pull to someone like this.  The sensation, while unfamiliar and something he’s severely out of practice with, is just as electrifying as he remembers, and now that he’s had a taste of it, he can’t stop chasing that high. 

It’s that undeniable pull which drive Harry to murmur an unauthentic apology about not having a dining table (he’d chosen a larger living room over a dining area when he moved in, and his friends just settled for eating at Niall’s when they wanted to sit down somewhere) because he’s secretly pleased that he has an excuse to sit next to Y/N.  It’s that pull that makes him hang on her every word about her day like she’s relaying the plot of a Greek tragedy, his facial expressions perfectly mimicking hers as she describes the customers she dealt with.  It’s that pull that sends his fingers forward of their own accord to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as the soft melody of Hozier’s “Like Real People Do” floats between them like a comforting lullaby.  It’s that pull that, when she inquires about the entrée he’d prepared for them, causes him to proudly admit that he’d recreated the recipe from Bella Vita after wrestling it from Vincenzo.  It’s that pull that urges him to scoop up one of his own gnocchi and bring it to Y/N’s lips to feed her the first bite of the meal, his hand cupped delicately under the utensil to catch any sauce that might drip onto her shirt (which is really his shirt, and that fact alone delivers so much more pleasure than he ever would’ve thought possible).  

It’s that pull, that adrenaline rush, that indescribable sensation, but underneath it all, it’s her.  It’s always been her, since the moment they’d first met.  From the moment he first laid eyes on her.  How is it, Harry wonders, that his first sighting, enhanced by his supernatural senses, had managed to make him so blind?  How is it that he’d had this girl in front of him all along, and he’d managed to delude himself into thinking that he’d be able to stop himself from becoming vulnerable for her?  And maybe, he wonders slowly as he clears Y/N’s empty dinner plate from the marble island to the sink, he’s still deluding himself, because for some strange reason, being vulnerable for the mortal girl doesn’t seem to be as terrifying as he thought it would be.

The vampire suddenly recalls a specific day all those weeks back, when Y/N had stayed over and they’d taken their first bath together in his jacuzzi. He thinks about how he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable for just a fraction of a second, when he had admitted to her that she often caught him off guard. She had returned the sentiment, and he remembers the words he'd uttered to her amidst the warm steam and quiet splashing of the water. He had said that he found her influence on him— the influence they had on each other— to be scary, but exhilarating. And now, after spending so much time together and allowing himself to grow closer to her than he ever could’ve imagined, he’s come to find that his attraction to Y/N is no longer incredibly scary. Yes, there’s still a sliver of fear in him at the notion of opening himself up to her, but it’s only natural— there isn’t one person in existence who isn’t scared to strip themselves emotionally bare for someone else. However, his genuine excitement soothes his hesitations, and it startles him in a pleasant manner he can’t quite decipher.

Setting the dirty dishes into the sink to be dealt with later, Harry risks a glance at Y/N over his shoulder.  He watches as she wipes the corner of her mouth on a napkin before raising her stemmed glass to her lips, delicately draining the last of the crimson liquid before placing it back down with a clink.  When he catches her sparkling eyes, Y/N shoots him a smile that, even with only one corner of her lips lifted, manages to dazzle him from across the kitchen.  Harry can hear the fresh flush of blood that overtakes her cheeks, as if the wine itself is settling beneath her fragile skin.

Yes, vulnerability should petrify him.  Vulnerability means danger.  It means giving someone the ability to break you, and Harry knows this from firsthand experience.  Harry might be the only monster in the room, but in this moment, Y/N is the ominous threat. She’s the vague silhouette that hides in the shadows, the mysterious mass circling just beneath the waves, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But now that he’s dipped a toe in, Harry can’t stop himself from diving headfirst into those dangerous depths.

“D’you want another drink, love?” He asks, turning back around and leaning his hip against the marble counter as he cocks his head to the side in a questioning manner. “Some more wine before dessert?  Or another cocktail?”

Y/N glances at her multiple empty glasses in front of her, but shakes her head slowly. “No, I’ve had enough to drink.  But I’d love a cup of tea, H.  If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.  A cup of tea, coming right up.” Harry reaches for the sleek kettle that he keeps set on the backburner of his range, flicking on his tap with his other hand before settling the hollow object under the stream of water. “You know, I think this is the first time I’m actually making tea for you.  S’a real treat, isn’t it?” He flashes a toothy grin at the girl before placing the now-full kettle back onto the burner and twisting the knob to high. “A proper cup of tea made by a proper Brit.  Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully as she circles her finger around the rim of the empty wine glass, her motions just starting to get heavy with the liquor. “It’s just some dried leaves and water, Harry.  Don’t get too full of yourself.” 

“I think you’re the one who’s usually full of me, aren’t you, pet?” Although his back is turned towards the stove, Harry can hear the effect his words have on the human girl by the small, nearly imperceptible gasp that leaves her lips. “‘M not sure you’re allowed to make that observation.”

Despite the choked feeling that’s welled up in her throat at his comment, Y/N quickly clears it out with a small cough, capturing Harry’s sea glass eyes with her own to stare him down stubbornly. “I’ll make any observations I want.” She says firmly, crossing her arms over her exposed chest in a mockingly angered pose.

A fond laugh rolls from Harry’s stained lips as he opens his cupboards and extracts two tea cups that are painted with vines of wisteria flowers.  He’d found them a few years back at the very same antique mall he’d brought Y/N to, included in a china tea set that he hadn’t been able to resist buying.  The hand painted violet flowers had caught his eye from the moment he’d glanced at the china cabinet they’d been locked inside, and he’d barely been able to tear himself away from the glass case to retrieve the key from an employee.  

He’d always had a soft spot for wisteria; there had been a wisteria tree outside of his childhood home, and he and Gemma used to collect the bunches of blooms and bring them inside for their mother.  That had been a long time ago, of course.  When they were children.  Harry can’t quite remember at what age they’d stopped digging through the garden for flowers— it might have been when Gemma turned eleven, which would’ve made him…. Seven?  Harry frowns at the uncertain memory as his grip tightens around the delicate china cups.  Yes, he reminds himself, he would’ve been seven.  His sister had been four years older than him, and it was around age eleven when she’d declared herself a lady, and said that it wasn’t ladylke to dig through a garden and walk around with dirt under one’s fingernails, and Honestly, Harry, you must wipe your feet before stepping into the house, or else you’ll track mud everywhere—

With trembling hands, Harry sets the wisteria tea cups down on the marble counter, flexing his fingers to get rid of their shakiness before reaching for the respective saucers.  It seems that Y/N’s ability to make him feel more human isn’t just resurfacing the manners and emotions he’d long suppressed, but the memories, too.  How long had it been since he’d heard his sister’s voice ring in his head as clearly as that?  How long had it been since he’d thought of the tiny foyer of his childhood home, which he’d tracked mud into countless times as his mother and, eventually, his sister clicked their tongues at him?  Is the tree still there, he wonders as his thoughts continue to spiral.  Or had it been cut down in the two hundred years since he’d last seen it, long after his family had all… 

Harry places the saucers carefully down against the marble before bracing himself against the edge for just a moment.  Barely thirty seconds have passed since Y/N’s retort, and although his enhanced mind had begun to spiral, it’s not too late for him to give a half-sane response.  

“I know you will, sweetheart.” He finally murmurs, hiding his face as he pulls open his fridge to extract the carton of oat milk he’d purchased last week.  Y/N, he’d come to learn over the last few months, prefers milk over cream in her tea, just like she prefers sugar over artificial sweeteners. 

Harry can feel the burn of her eyes into his back as he extracts a teaspoon from his kitchen drawer and the kettle begins to whistle.  Focusing and relishing in being the object of her attention, Harry removes the kettle from the heat, flicking the stove off before reaching for the canister that stores his tea bags.  In an effort to fully distract himself from the troubling thoughts of his past, he begins to hum the tune to the Hozier song that had been playing earlier, before the record had spun to stop just before they’d finished their entrees.  With the near murmur of the melody reverberating through his throat, he spends a moment debating on whether or not he should use the matching wisteria-adorned teapot that sits on the highest shelf of his cupboard, but quickly decides against it— it’s too formal for the occasion.  But tossing two separate tea bags into the two teacups, he finds as soon as he does it, doesn’t feel right either; after all, he’d told Y/N that he’d be making her a proper cup of tea.  That fact settles the manner in his (moreso than usual) changing mind, and within a few moments, he has the two teabags deposited into the teapot before pouring in the boiling water to steep the satchels of dried leaves.

Halfway through his preparation, his ears had perked up with the distinct sound of Y/N rising from her chair, which had been followed by the muted pattering of her feet against his hardwood floor.  Not bothering to ask where she’d been going, Harry had instead decided to wait for his suspicions to be confirmed.  Sure enough, just as he’s stirring the sugar and oat milk into Y/N’s cup of tea, he hears the quiet press of one of the keys of his piano.  C4, if his aural skills are still as tuned as they used to be.

Setting the two cups of tea onto their respective plates (Y/N’s with milk and sugar, and Harry’s plain), the vampire easily balances both cups of tea in his hands and makes it to the living room without spilling a single drop.

Just like before, Y/N seems entranced by the piano, plunking out different notes and letting them ring into the open air.  Harry can’t help but wince slightly as he approaches— as talented as Y/N seems to be at some things, music theory does not appear to be included.

“Christ, love, a tritone?” He protests, his voice hinging on a whine as he approaches the piano bench. “What, your fingers couldn’t make it a perfect fifth, hm?”

The answer to his teasing question comes in the form of Y/N’s entire body jumping as her fingers stutter over the keys, an audible gasp falling from her mouth while her hand clutches to her chest and her head turns to stare at Harry over her shoulder. “Jesus, you scared me!” She says breathlessly, her palm massaging over her the area where Harry can hear the rapid pulsing of her heart. “Have you always creeped around like that?”

A playful grin tugs at the immortal’s lips as he extends an arm out, handing the china saucer and cup to the human girl. “Only when I’m carrying boiling tea.  Scooch over, will you?” Nudging his way onto the newly unoccupied space of the bench, Harry nods his head towards the keys she had been previously playing. “Was that an original composition?”

“Beethoven, actually.  I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it.” Y/N blows gently over her tea with pursed lips before taking a small sip.  Harry knows that his sister would have condemned the action, along with the following slurp, by calling it unladylike, but the inelegant manner leaves a fond feeling buzzing through his body once more. 

Raising his own teacup to his lips, Harry chuckles quietly over the rim of the cup. “I wouldn’t have pegged it for the classical era, actually.  Sounded more atonal to me.” He takes a small sip of tea, the liquid scorching down his throat in the best way. “You said you took lessons when you were younger, didn’t you?  Do you remember anything?”

“Twinkle twinkle little star, maybe.” Y/N takes another small gulp before setting the cup back down on the saucer. “I was, like, eight.  Nursery rhymes were as far as I got.” Her gaze drops to the caramel coloured tea with a curious gaze; Harry had remembered exactly how she takes it, despite him only having seen her make a cup of tea once a few weeks ago. “But you, on the other hand… Mr. Good Lookin’...” Her lips jolt into a teasing grin as her eyes flicker to the side to capture his own. “You’re quite the musician, from what I remember.  And you promised to play me something.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry’s smile grows imperceivably tighter as he takes another drag of the boiling drink, his throat growing thicker with every swallow. “And you still want me to?”

Brow furrowing at his reluctance, Y/N cocks her head to the side in bewilderment. “Of course I do, H.  I loved listening to you play for me at the antique mall.”

Harry thinks back to that day, when he’d stuttered his way through a Chopin piece before his stumbling fingers had given up entirely. “I’m just a little out of practice, love.  It’ll be a bit messy.”

“I didn’t ask for perfection; I asked for you to play.” Her warm fingers find Harry’s upper arm, massaging the tattooed muscles just underneath the tucked sleeve of his shirt as she regards him with wide, curious eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you’re nervous because you might mess up… Well, you heard me play.” Her light laugh rings through the cavity of the piano, reverberating off the highest strings in a way that only Harry’s immortal ears can pick up. “I won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Despite his reservations, a half-hearted smile finds its way to Harry’s lips over the rim of his tea cup, which he sets down on the living room side table after taking one last sip.  

Flexing his ringed fingers, he repositions himself on the piano bench, moving more towards the center of the seat as Y/N moves down to the edge to give him full access to the piano.  For a brief moment, his hands hover over the ivory and ebony keys as he evaluates the repertoire he knows he can muddle his way through without too much trouble.  He’s already played a few Chopin pieces for the human girl, so that composer is out.  Liszt doesn’t seem to fit the mood, either, as his pieces are much too ornamented for their quiet living room ambience.  Debussy is out before Harry can even consider him; the last thing he wants to do is invoke any more memories of sitting at a piano with the much too familiar composer.  And Beethoven and Mozart seem too contrived for this setting, as well.

With a frown on his wine-stained lips, Harry spares one glance at Y/N, whose own eyes are glued to his floating fingers.  She reaches out with a tentative touch of her own, gliding them across Harry’s tensed knuckles with a pressure so soft that, if not for the heat of her skin, Harry might not feel it at all.  The cautiousness of the motion is not lost on him— it’s almost as if Y/N is worried that she’ll spook him out of playing, like any sudden movements could break him.  It reminds the creature of the awareness he has whenever he touches her; how he always carefully evaluates the amount of pressure he uses whenever he glides his fingers over her vulnerable skin. 

As if she were a butterfly, he thinks, not for the first time.  His butterfly.

Harry doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to start playing.  He doesn’t even recognize the piece that’s tentatively ringing from the piano until the repetition of the first motive, when Y/N emits a satisfied breath and her warm hand falls back to Harry’s thigh, rubbing gently over his olive trousers with that same delicate touch, almost as if he were a butterfly.

The creature’s fingers continue to glide over the ivory keys, his phrases growing smoother and more confident with every passing moment.  He pays careful attention to the dynamics of the piece, trying his best to recall the sheet music that he hadn’t looked at in decades, but it only takes about thirty seconds for him to realize that it’s easier to just let himself feel the music.  With Y/N’s hand continuing to dance over his thigh in time with the tune, Harry lets himself play around with the score, peppering in crescendos and decrescendos as he sees fit.  He draws out some of the minor phrases, hoping to wrench on his obsolete heartstrings the way he had when he first learned the piece in the early 20th century, and hovers his fingers over the bass notes as he uses the pedal to make them ring out into the living room.  

Halfway through the composition, Harry realizes that he’s breathing with the phrases, timing each inhale and exhale of his lungs with the musical lines.  It only takes him another two measures to realize that Y/N is doing the same, her body leaning into Harry’s as Harry leans into the instrument.  And that, he finds as his jeweled fingers slide over the keys, tugs on his heartstrings more than any melody ever could.

As he approaches the end of the piece, he softens his touch, his fingertips almost ghosting over the keys as he gently presses the final notes.  Harry keeps his foot hovered over the pedal, allowing the quiet cadence to fade to silence in its own time, and as it does, he can feel his body coming back into itself— which is strange, considering he hadn’t noticed the trance-like space he’d slipped into.

Y/N, however, must have noticed, because her voice is hushed and hesitant when she speaks again, waiting until the final notes have completely faded to silence, as if she’s afraid that she’s interrupting something. 

“That was so beautiful, H.” She praises, her hand still rubbing over his clothed thigh.  The motion would normally drive Harry mad, but for some reason, all it does to him in this moment is bring a strange lump to his throat. “What’s it called?”

In his unfamiliar haze, it takes Harry a moment to find his own voice. “Uh, Papillons.” He says through his thick accent, clearing his throat subtly as he lowers his hands to his lap.  He hadn’t even realized they were still lingering over the last notes. “It means—”

“Butterflies.” The mortal girl nods in recognition, a thoughtful look over her face as she taps a finger against his trousers, her tone slightly jesting as she murmurs her next sentence. “I know enough sixth grade French to understand that.  Is it a French piece, then?”

“No.” Harry jerks his head in the negative, only remembering to soften the agitated motion after it’s happened.  He raises his keen eyes to meet Y/N’s, a reminder of where he is.  And a reminder of who he’s with. “It’s the fifth movement in a suite by Robert Schumann— the “Polonaise,” in B-flat major.  S’one of my favourites.”

“I can see why.” Y/N murmurs, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It was wonderful, really.  ‘Out of practice,’ my ass.”

Even with the residual anxiety still coursing through his veins, Harry manages to force out a chuckle at her teasing. “Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.  But Schumann has always been a favourite composer of mine—” Harry takes Y/N’s teacup from her, noting how her eyes had flickered to the ground, as if she was looking for a place to set it, and she sends him a thankful grin as he sets the cup next to his own on the end table. “—along with his wife.  They were both incredibly talented musicians.”

“His wife?” Intrigue threads through Y/N’s voice as she props up an elbow on the piano, resting her chin on her loose fist as she turns her body towards Harry. “She was a musician, too?”

Harry hums affirmatively as he cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers in his lap to loosen them from the buzzing sensation that’s still prickling his skin. “She was, yeah.  They had a pretty passionate love story, y’know.  That’s why his music is so beautiful— he wrote it all for her.”

Y/N doesn’t miss the reminiscent tone that seeps into Harry’s voice, and she threads her fingers through his own as her eyes widen with a gentle plea. “Will you tell me about them?  Schumann and his wife?”

“I—” Hesitating at her request, Harry squeezes her hand tightly, half in affection, half in warning. “It doesn’t have much of a happy ending, darling.  A bit of a tragedy, that one.”

“I want to know.” The human girl nods her head stubbornly as her eyes flash with determination. “Just because it has a sad ending doesn’t mean it’s not worth knowing.” 

Harry pauses for a moment, allowing her words to fully sink into his mind and spark the beacon of hope that’s sat coldy in his head for so long. “I suppose that’s true.” 

He mulls over where to begin, thinking back to all the newspaper articles he’d read about a child prodigy in Germany in the 1820s, who was the daughter of—

“So the story really begins with Friederich Wieck.” Harry’s voice falls into a smooth cadence as he begins, thumbing over Y/N’s warm knuckles absentmindedly as he recalls the information. “He was a music teacher, most known for piano, but what he really wanted to be known for was raising a child prodigy.  He had a few children, but the one who filled that description was Clara, his second oldest.”

As Harry begins to spin the tale, Y/N can’t help but focus on his expression.  Although his eyes are set on their linked hands, she can tell that his gaze is far away, as if he’s seeing the scene play before his eyes as he tells it.  It’s fascinating, she thinks, seeing him focus so intently on something as niche as an old love story between musicians, but more than that, it’s new to her.  This is a new side of him that she hasn’t seen before— not cocky, or charming, or playful.  This side of him is intent, as if he wants to make sure that every word he speaks is the truth.  His expression is almost as interesting as the story itself.

“Clara’s parents, Friederich and Mariane, didn’t really get along very well, and Clara had a lot of trouble when she was young; she didn’t really speak until she was four.  But music always came easily to her, which made sense, considering her parents.” Harry’s free hand drifts back to the ivory keys, just resting over the lacquered surface. “Her mother was a musician, too— an accomplished singer.  But after her parents split when she was five, when Mariane had an affair with a family friend, Clara was left with her father.  And her father wanted to focus on her music career.  He gave her hour-long lessons every day, and made her practice for two hours on top of that.  She made her performance debut when she was just nine years old, in 1828, at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig.”

“Okay, wait.  Pause.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for Harry’s faraway eyes to refocus on her confused expression. “What does playing in Leipzig at age nine have to do with a love story?”

An amused laugh slips from Harry’s lips at Y/N’s impatience. “I’m getting there, sweetheart.  A little bit of patience would be beneficial to you, I think.  And a little bit of trust in me, yeah?”

Although she huffs a little bit, Y/N relents, squeezing Harry’s hand in acknowledgement at the phrase he always seems to end up repeating: Trust me. She vaguely wonders why it’s so important to him. “Alright, fine.  Continue.”

“Thank you.” Harry swipes a hand through his tousled curls before settling it back down on the keys, running his fingertips over the smooth surface absentmindedly in the same rhythm he’s swiping over Y/N’s knuckles. “Okay, so… She played in Leipzig a few times that year, and once was at a private music party at someone’s house, where she met Robert Schumann.” At the mention of the name, Harry shoots Y/N an ‘I told you so’ look, which she meets with a roll of her eyes. “He was a gifted pianist, and was so inspired by Clara’s playing that he got permission from his mother to quit his law studies in order to study piano under Clara’s father, Friederich.  So in 1830, Robert moved into the Weick household as one of Friederich’s students, and—”

“Sorry, I— pause again.” Brow furrowed, Y/N’s eyes narrow in suspicion as she mulls over Harry’s words. “So— if Clara was, like, nine—”

“Eleven, actually.  It’s 1830 now, remember?”

“Alright, eleven.  If Clara was eleven… You said Robert quit law school to study music.” Y/N’s narrowed eyes widen as she regards Harry, as if asking him to contradict her suspicions. “How old was Robert?”

“Around twenty, I think.” Harry says casually, lifting his shoulder in a light shrug. “He was born in 1810, so— yeah.  He would’ve been twenty.”

“Twenty?” Y/N yanks her hand from Harry’s as she fully twists her body to face him, as if just hearing the horror in her voice isn’t enough. “He was twenty?  I thought this was a love story?”

“It is!  It’s just—”

“No, it’s not!  It’s gross!” Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Y/N shakes her head harshly, her loose hair spilling over her flushing cheeks. “A twenty year old shouldn’t—”

“He didn’t!  Nothing happened until they were older, love.” Harry captures Y/N’s hand within his own again, smoothing over her knuckles as he hurries to reassure her. “And it was the nineteenth century… a nine year age gap in a relationship wasn’t exactly uncommon.” For a brief moment, Harry wonders what Y/N would think if she knew just how much older he really was than her.  Would she react with the same horrified expression she had now?  Yank her hand from his again as she had just done?

“Yeah, well…” Y/N’s appearance is still bristled as she shoots Harry a condemning look. “There’s a difference between a nine year age gap and a child—”

“Nothing’s happened yet, sweetheart.” Harry bites back the involuntary laugh that bubbles through his chest at the indignant tone of her voice. “Now can I continue?  Or do you want to yell some more?”

Although her response is grumbled, the mortal girl mutters, “Fine.  Continue.” as Harry lifts her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. 

“Thank you.” He lowers her hand back down to his thigh, smoothing it over his trousers before continuing where he’d left off. “So Robert studies under Clara’s father and stays with them for a year.  And although Clara and Robert were just friends, Friederich could tell that they were becoming close, which he didn’t like.  And before you say anything,” Harry watches as Y/N’s lips twitch into a frown. “It wasn’t because of Robert’s age.  Friederich didn’t want Clara to fall in love with anyone; he just wanted her to focus on her music.  He still wanted his child prodigy, you know?  So he began to take her on tours through Europe.  But by the time Clara was sixteen, it was clear that she and Robert had feelings for each other.  They wrote countless letters to each other, signed them ‘your special friend’... And when Clara turned eighteen, Robert asked Friederich for his permission to marry his daughter.  And Friederich said no, because that would ruin his plans for Clara’s music career.”

Despite her hesitation at the relationship, Y/N still mutters a quiet “Harsh.” at the story.

Harry’s hands return to the keys, but this time, they do more than hover.  He begins to press a few notes slowly, letting one ring out completely before moving to the other, and it takes Y/N a few moments to realize that he’s playing an actual melody, albeit a deconstructed one. 

“Because Clara wasn’t twenty-one yet, they needed her father’s permission to marry, so Robert took the case to court.  And it was…” His fingers stutter over the keys for a moment as his face twists up, remembering how the story had decorated the society pages of newspapers back then. “Messy.  Really messy.  But in the end, Robert won the case, and he and Clara were married.  And they wrote all this beautiful music together…” Harry’s left hand joins his right over the piano, moving with more intention now as he adds a quiet harmony to his slow melody line. “They weren’t good with words, but they were good with music.  That’s how they communicated with each other.  You can hear the love in everything they wrote, the devotion they had for each other.  Listen,” He says in a hushed voice, the melody of the music becoming unbearably sweet. “D’you hear it?”

“I do.” Y/N nods softly, her fingers massaging Harry’s thigh muscle as he continues to play.  It’s not a lie, either; there’s a sincerity in what Harry’s playing that twists within her chest.  

Or maybe, she thinks, her eyes trained in the profile of the man beside her, it’s just Harry. 

“Didn’t you…” Y/N hesitates both in her words and her motions over Harry’s leg as a new thought tugs at her mind. “Didn’t you say the story had a sad ending?  That all seems good, isn’t it?  Clara and Robert got married, wrote music together…”

Harry’s fingers begin to slow down, returning to the reduced melody he’d been playing previously, as if weighed down by the knowledge he’s about to share. “Uh, yeah.  Robert had a lot of problems— mental health issues.  Later in their marriage, he became manic, had episodes where he saw angels and demons… and he was worried he’d hurt Clara.” Harry says quietly, risking a glance at the girl beside him, who’s watching him with such wide and trusting eyes that he almost can’t bear it.  Harry knows what it’s like to fear hurting the ones you care for. “He tried to kill himself, and when he was unsuccessful, he asked to be taken to an insane asylum.  And he never went home again.  He died there, just a few days after Clara was finally allowed to visit.  S’like…” Harry’s fingers pause over the piano once more. “S’like he was waiting for her.  Before going.”

Detecting the emotion in his voice, Y/N raises her hand from his thigh, smoothing back a few loose curls before gently setting her palm over the curve of his neck. “That is a bit of a tragic story, I’ll admit.  To have fought so hard for each other for so long… And then to lose all of it like that…”

“Yeah.” Harry clears the lump from his throat as subtly as he can.  He’s certainly no stranger to loss, to feeling helpless at being unable to save someone you love… He knows that pain all too well. 

As if she can sense the darkness in his mood, Y/N rubs a comforting hand across his shoulder and down his arm, drifting over his inked skin with a warm touch.  Her comment, however, is more lighthearted than her caring caress. 

“I still think the age gap is a little weird.  How do you go from writing letters about being ‘special friends’ to falling in love?”

Harry rises to her baited joke, doing his best to shake himself from his introspective thoughts as his fingers begin to drift over the keys once more.  He focuses on just his right hand now, playing out an absentminded yet tender tune as he speaks. “So if I started to call you my special friend, you wouldn’t like it?”

“God, no— that sounds awful.” Y/N scoffs, her own hand drifting to the ivory keys. “We’re sleeping together, not making mud pies in a kindergarten class.”

Harry’s laugh is more genuine as he begins to slow down his playing, plucking only single notes that Y/N echoes in the lower register of the piano. “Alright, fine.  Not special friends, then.”

“There’s just so many cooler historical ways to say we’re having sex, y’know?  None of that ‘special friend’ bullshit.” Y/N continues to match Harry’s notes as best she can, wincing every so often as she plays a dissonant key. “Like… ‘lover.’  That’s a good one.  Nice and simple.  Or—” Her eyes light up with mirth as the thought pops into her head. “Courtesan to the queen.  Not as simple, but it certainly rolls off the tongue.”

Harry quirks a brow at the suggestion. “And you’ll be the queen in question, I presume?”

“Of course.  Do you have a better idea?”

“‘Paramour’ is a neat little name, don’t you think?” Harry asks, his fingers pressing down a simple perfect fourth on the piano to punctuate his question. “Sounds pretty elegant.  Understated.”

“If you want understated…” Y/N matches the top note of Harry’s interval, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to match the actual notes without hurting both of their ears. “We could do what historians do when talking about ancient queer couples.  Say we’re just good friends.”

The creature hums in acknowledgment at the back of his throat. “We could, yeah.  Or we could be mistresses.   Is there a word for a male mistress?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his lips pull into a quizzical frown. “A master?”

“Jesus Christ, never refer to yourself as a master again.” Y/N groans loudly, her fingers slipping from the keys as she feigns a shudder. “That just sounds creepy.  Even creepier than a special friend. How about…” She tries her best to stifle a wry grin as a more vulgar alternative pops into her head. “The Whore of Babylon?” 

“Fuck’s sake, what did I say about slut-shaming me?”

“I just thought it’d fit! It has a nice ring to it! But if it really irks you that much— Oh, wait—” She quirks her head to the side, a new wave of amusement lighting up her eyes as she thinks of her next step in their game. “What about ‘special advisor’?  You know, like we’re in a historical drama, and I have a kingdom to defend from oncoming war, and you’re my most trusted advisor, and when my husband is away with the army, you and I sneak off into my chambers…”

Although he giggles boyishly at the suggestion, Harry can’t ignore the twinge of jealousy that shoots up his spine at the mention of Y/N’s— albeit imaginary— husband.  He doesn’t like being referred to as her side relationship, even in an imaginary world of queens and wars.  Even then, he wants to be Y/N’s first choice. 

Because she’s his, he realizes, his fingers continuing to pluck out single ivory notes as a way to deal with the impending ball of tension that’s growing inside his abdomen.  Even in a game, in an imaginary world, in any way imaginable— Y/N is his first choice. 

He just— he wants her, in every sense of the word. And he knows all the reasons he shouldn’t— he knows how reckless it is to allow a human to get so close to him, how he’ll never truly be able to be honest with her, how he’ll always be using her for her blood, how he can’t give her the human relationship she deserves.  But he can’t stop from thinking about Robert and Clara, who fought for each other from the very beginning, who persevered through every challenge thrown their way, and who still only got sixteen years together before circumstance tore them apart. 

Harry is here. He is— for all intents and purposes— theoretically alive.  And the girl he wants more than anyone else is right next to him.  There’s no doubt in his mind that it’ll be difficult, but does he not owe it to those who ran out of time to try?  At the very least? Does he not owe it to himself to fight for the happiness he’s spent so long evading, all out of fear? 

He can manage that.  He can manage his cravings around Y/N enough to take only what he needs, and never anything more.  He can manage his double life and keep her from falling victim to the darkest corners of his mind. He can manage his strength enough to treat her as delicately as he’d treat a butterfly.  He can manage the most monstrous parts of himself.  He can do that for Y/N. 

But only if she wants him to. 

It’s that hesitation that brings a tremor to his hands as they pause over the keys, poised over the lacquered surface that he can barely tear his gaze from. “A special advisor sounds fun, yeah.  Or you could…” Harry clears his throat roughly, sweat pooling across his brow as he fiddles with the opal ring on his pinky.  He twists it back and forth around the digits, only managing to spare one look from the corner of his eye at Y/N’s quizzical face before dropping his stare back down to the piano. 

“Or you could, um… you could just… call me your…” Say it, the voice in his head practically yells. It’s just one word. It’s not that hard. “Boyfriend. You could just call me your boyfriend.”

A heavy pause fills the air in the large room, and Harry feels like he’s being suffocated. His voice grows fainter when he detects the sudden hitch in Y/N’s breath, but nothing else. He finds himself wanting to fill the empty space between them with something, or else he might pass out from the nerves. “If you… If you want, that is.  It would just keep it simple. Plain and simple.”

Plain and simple, Y/N thinks as her hands curl together in her lap, slotting between her thighs as if the pressure of her clamped legs can keep her from feeling how they shake.  It would keep it plain and simple.

But when has their relationship ever been simple?

It should’ve been simple, and the mortal girl knows this.  Two consenting adults, calling each other every once in a while for a bit of release— that’s simple.  That kind of relationship doesn’t have any pressure.  There’s no need to try and impress one another, or to meet any expectations.  That kind of relationship is no muss, no fuss, and no strings attached.  That was how they had started, and it had been simple.  It had been easy.  It had been uncomplicated. 

And it also hadn’t been that way for a long time.

Y/N’s known for a while now that the line between two friends having sex and being in a committed relationship has become increasingly blurred; that was all but confirmed when Harry nearly pitched a hissy fit when he saw her coming home from her date with Jacob.  But even with all of the dates, the gifts, the phone calls during her lunch breaks, the homemade dinners and drinks and desserts, even with all of that— Y/N never thought that they’d actually arrive at this moment.  This moment, in Harry’s apartment, their bodies pressed together on the small piano bench, his fingers fidgeting nervously as hers are pressed between her thighs, with the word boyfriend dangling over their heads like a sword.

She can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about it, because she has.  And she can’t pretend that her thinking about it doesn’t usually lead to her daydreaming about it, because it does.  It’s why she spends the majority of her downtime wrapped in Harry’s rainbow cardigan, and why she’d picked out his button down shirt to wear tonight.  It’s why she’s talked about him to her friends, why she’s begun to speak about him casually to her coworkers, instead of hiding in the storage closet when he calls her on her break.  Because even though they aren’t together— even though they’re friends in the least and seeing each other at the most— it had been nice to pretend that either of them were capable of being more.

Y/N is no stranger to heartbreak, and she’s spent long enough studying her own commitment issues to be able to recognize them in someone else.  Harry had pretty much told her in the beginning that relationships weren’t his thing, that he didn’t want to be defined by a label that could so easily be broken.  And Y/N, who hadn’t opened herself up since Bradley, had been inclined to agree.  Relationships are messy, and labels only bring expectations that would eventually not be met.  Seeing each other is easy.  Seeing each other is breezy.  Seeing each other leaves room for interpretation, for allowances, for excuses to be made if one of them suddenly changes their mind.  Seeing each other is plain and simple. 

Boyfriend.

The truth of the matter is that Y/N shouldn’t be so terrified of such a simple word.  In all forms and fashion, Harry practically already is her boyfriend— he literally calls her his girl during sex, for fuck’s sake. They do everything that a normal couple does, and have been doing it for a while now.  She’s fairly certain that calling Harry her boyfriend instead of the guy she’s seeing wouldn’t actually change their relationship that much.  But if she’s honest with herself, Y/N knows that it isn’t their present day situation that’s sending a cold sweat down her back.  Boyfriends, from her limited experience, lead to fiancés, which lead to husbands, which lead to children and a white picket fence in an unassuming suburb.  That was the exact life she’d come to L.A. to escape— how could she willingly fall back into it?

And then she hears Harry exhale shakily, his thumb fumbling with the opal ring on his pinky, and she knows exactly how she could willingly fall back into it.

This is Harry.  Harry, who tells her the stupidest jokes that can somehow still make her laugh.  Harry, who gives her all of his attention every moment that they’re together.  Harry, who listens to every story about rude customers without complaining once, hanging onto her every word as if what she says matters more than life itself.  Harry, who makes her believe that it does.  Harry, with entrancing emerald eyes, shining chestnut curls, intricately inked skin, and the most comforting arms she’s ever been held in.  This is Harry.  Not Bradley.  Bradley wanted the wife, the white picket fence, the house filled with children.  Harry— as far as she can tell— just wants her.  And she just wants him.

Plain and simple.

Y/N extracts one of her hands from between her legs, snaking it over Harry’s, where she captures one of his fiddling hands in her grasp.  Intertwining their fingers, Y/N fixes her gaze onto his opal ring as she hesitantly swipes her thumb over his cool knuckles.

“Yeah,” She whispers the word, as if speaking any louder could break whatever it is that’s brewing between them. “Yeah, that could work.  I’d really like that.”

The human girl watches from the corner of her eye as Harry’s lips, which he’d been gnawing on nervously while waiting for her response, slowly curl into a hesitant grin, as if he’s nervous to show how anxiously he’d been waiting for her to answer.  He keeps his sea glass eyes glued to their tangled hands, his own fingers contracting to test their grasp. 

Harry knows that it’s selfish of him to be so happy that the girl he cares for is entering into a relationship with a monster.  But seeing as how he’s the monster in question, he can’t make himself feel guilty for it.  All he feels is the elation that’s slowly spreading through his entire body, and the determination that’s chasing it.  He can do this.  He’s strong enough.  He can be strong enough for her. 

“Can I…” His voice is just as quiet as hers, nearly cracking at the end when he finally lifts his gaze to her heated cheeks, wide eyes, and stained lips. “Can I kiss you?”

A tender laugh falls from those stained lips as Y/N combs his curls back over his ear, dragging her thumb over the sharp lines of his jaw. “You do that all the time, so the answer is obviously yes, isn’t it?” She thumbs down the muscles in his neck, until her palm settles over the collar of his shirt to fist the fabric between her grip. “You don’t even need to ask anymore.”

“It never hurts to ask.  And this time…” Harry worries his bottom lip back between his teeth before he soothes the bite mark with his tongue. “It’s different.  We’re different.”

“Not too different.” Y/N leans forward until their noses nudge against each other, their mouths kept apart only by an inch.  She cards her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting the locks around her digits in a way that’s so much softer than Harry thought possible. “Still us, yeah?”

The taste of honey and lavender is so thick on the back of Harry’s tongue that he’s almost choking on it, but he’s never felt less thirsty in his life.  He has this under control.  He can tame this.  He can.

“Yeah.” He inhales deeply through his mouth, as if he were relishing the bouquet without tasting the wine, and slots their lips together with ease. 

Although they’ve shared countless kisses over their months together, this might win the record for the gentlest that they’ve ever shared.  There’s no rush, no animalistic need to pull Y/N closer and tighter against his body.  There’s only her burning warmth, her silky skin, and her sugar and flower flavour washing out the black tea that had been lingering on his taste buds.  Harry has never felt closer to being human again than he has in this moment.  Right now, they’re not a predator and his prey; they’re simply two people who, against all odds, have managed to find each other.  And Harry is owed this happiness.  He knows he is. 

The rest of the night passes in a blissful haze of comfortable domesticity.  They eat dessert on Harry’s couch, feeding each other bites of raspberry sorbet in between giggles and banter.  It’s something they’ve done countless times before, but there’s something different about it now; maybe it’s the fact that Harry knows that Y/N isn’t going to push him away now.  She wants him.  She wants him.  She’s leaning into his touch every time he brushes his knuckles over her cheek, laughing at his poorly-timed jokes, gazing at him through her lashes in a way that stirs desire in the very pit of his belly.  They’re comfortable together, and for the first time, Harry is realizing just how wonderful that is.

It’s the only thing on his mind as they stand side by side in front of his double vanity in his en suite, his gaze tilted to the side to watch as Y/N removes her makeup with some wipes she’d packed in her overnight bag (Harry makes a mental note on the brand so that he can pick them up the next time he finds himself near the drug store).  He’s never had such casual comfort and ease with someone like this before; the last time he’d found himself in a relationship, it had been in a time where maids were required to help lace and unlace corsets and valets prepared him for bed.  There was never a chance to watch as someone he cares for ties their hair back in a loose ponytail before rubbing cleanser into their skin.  He never got to observe the quiet, intimate moments of someone’s bedtime routine.  In the early days of their relationship, Y/N had never had a chance to properly take her makeup off before Harry was tugging her into bed, her lipstick smeared across his face as much as hers.  This is his first time really witnessing that transition, and he likes it more than he thought he would.

There are, however, a few things that he knows Y/N likes before bed, and he gives her a moment of privacy to change into her pyjamas while he makes the quick trip to his kitchen to fill a tall glass with cold water.  He doesn’t need to grab an extra blanket this time— he’d already made sure to toss the knit afghan onto his bed before Y/N arrived, and he finds it draped over her body when he returns to his bedroom.

“You look cozy.” He comments with a fond smile, handing the mortal girl the glass of water as he pulls back the other half of the blankets.  He climbs underneath the covers, propping his elbow up on his pillow as he lies on his side to watch as she takes a sip of the drink. “Y’alright, love?  Need anything else?”

Y/N shakes her head as she sets the glass down on the bedside table and settles back into her pillows, stifling a yawn into the back of her hand.  She always gets sleepy after she has a few drinks, something she’d explained to Harry— much to his amusement— a few weeks prior, after a movie night at her house when he’d made his famous margaritas.  They’d been having a Harry Potter marathon, and they’d barely begun the second before her eyes had started to flutter closed. 

“I’m good, I think.” She tugs the blankets up to her chin, tilting her head to the side to find Harry already staring at her with a soft expression. “Actually…” Extending a hand to him, she lifts her covers off her body enough to indicate what she wants. “C’mere.”

A boyish giggle falls from the vampire’s strawberry lips, and he flicks off the lamp before crawling towards Y/N in the enveloping darkness.  He folds himself right into her side, opening his own arms for her to slide into, but is surprised when her hand finds his shoulder and tugs him closer to her.

Harry takes the hint and hesitantly settles himself onto her own body, allowing the mortal girl to rest his head along her collarbones, his ear finding a home just above her beating pulse.  One of her hands knots itself in his hair, delicately detangling his messy curls as the other finds a home on his naked shoulder blade, rubbing over his defined muscles with the hottest touch Harry has ever felt. 

It’s a vulnerable position, one that Harry hasn’t been in for decades.  And yet, instead of feeling the usual mix of fear and trepidation, all Harry can feel is comfort.  The combined sensation of Y/N playing with his hair and massaging his shoulder is more pleasurable than he ever could’ve assumed.  A month ago, that would have confused him.  But now… he exhales softly as Y/N’s nails lightly scratch along his scalp.  He can be vulnerable with her.  He trusts her.  And, to his extreme luck, she seems to trust him.

A few minutes pass with nothing said between the pair, the silence around them punctuated with only the sound of their breathing and Y/N’s lone heartbeat.  If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think that Y/N had fallen asleep, but his sharp senses know that’s not true; her pulse is still a few beats faster than it normally is, and her breathing hasn’t completely evened out yet.

Sure enough, Harry’s suspicions are confirmed when Y/N whispers into the darkness a moment later, as if she could hear him mentally assessing her body language. “Harry?” Her voice is gentle, halfway between a whisper and a murmur, as if she’s afraid to be any louder. “Are you awake?”

Harry bites back the smirk that threatens to overtake his lips. “Mhmm.” He hums, nuzzling his head further into Y/N’s caring touch. “Still awake.”

She matches his hum of acknowledgement, the pads of her fingers pressing deeper into the knots of his back. “I was wondering…” Her voice thickens with hesitation. “Would you, um, would you sing for me?”

Without completely lifting himself from her chest, Harry raises his eyes to meet her own, her fingers pausing their motions through his locks as he does so. “Sing?” He asks, taken off guard by the out-of-the-blue request. “Y’want me to sing?”

Although there’s a shadow of shyness across her face, Y/N nods slowly. “I heard you humming earlier today, while you were cooking, and it sounded nice, so I was just thinking about it…” She clears her throat nervously, and Harry can hear the wave of blood that rises to her cheeks. “But you don’t have to.  I know it’s late—”

“No, petal.” Harry hurries to ease her, a frown settling onto his face as he hears her breathing grow shallower with anxiety. “S’fine.  No need to get shy.” Harry is amazed at how smoothly the reassurance falls from his lips. “Yeah, I’ll sing for you.  Any requests?”

Despite him telling her not to be shy, Y/N just shrugs her shoulders in response to his question, her eyes locked on the ceiling above them as if she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze.  Harry plants a kiss along her clavicle before settling back into her plush chest, mentally running through the catalogue of songs he’d been humming earlier.  He should pick something soft, he thinks.  Something like a lullaby.

Y/N resumes her gentle combing through Harry’s locks, mostly to distract herself from his thoughtful silence.  She shouldn’t have asked him to sing something— he’d made it clear earlier that playing the piano for people was something that made him nervous.  They’d sung together playfully multiple times, and Y/N could tell that Harry has a pretty voice, but half-singing, half-rapping along to the Hamilton soundtrack is so different than singing to her in the darkness of his bedroom.  She shouldn’t have asked.  In fact, she should tell him to just forget it, and—

“I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt.” Harry’s low vibrato echoes around the previously silent room, his voice no louder than a murmur.  Y/N can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords against her chest, a quiet hum that soothes her like nothing else ever has. “Why were you digging?  What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the Earth?”

Harry clears his throat quietly between the stanzas, his own eyes drifting close.  He’s never been one for stage fright— he’s always been eager to show off his vocal skills, and there’d been a time when all he wanted was to sing on stage in a smoky speakeasy.  But this— singing in the quiet of his bedroom for an audience of one— is more intimate than he’s used to, and he knows if he catches Y/N’s observant gaze right now, he’ll lose his nerve.

“I will not ask you where you came from; I will not ask and neither should you.” Harry tunes his ear to the steady pulse of Y/N’s heart, using the rhythm as a makeshift metronome to keep his time.  To keep himself steady. “Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips; we should just kiss like real people do.”

Harry feels a spike of warmth against the top of his head, and it takes him a moment longer than normal to realize that it’s Y/N’s lips pressing against his hair.  As he continues to sing, she times her caresses of his ringlets with the beat of his words, which he keeps timed with the beat of her heart.  They’re in a cycle, he realizes as he quietly sings the second verse into her skin. She’s lined up with him as he lines up with her.  They’re locked together, steadying the other while relying on them to keep them steady in return.  For the first time in two hundred years, Harry feels truly in sync with someone.

“Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,” Y/N’s mouth smudges against his temple once more as he nudges his nose along the base of her throat, allowing himself to press his own lips against the satin skin of her chest, just over her heart. He feels like he could stay in this moment forever, which means something given that he truly does have forever. He’d spend every second of the rest of eternity frozen in this instant, if the world allowed it. He’s content, and relaxed, and cradled in his duvet with the one other soul who has somehow managed to thaw the coldness from his stony heart. For the first time in too long, he feels like an actual person again. He isn’t bogged down by his carnal instincts, or by the fear of losing his composure, or by the fact that he doesn’t have a thumping rhythm behind his ribs. 

He doesn’t need all of that because he has Y/N, and she makes him feel more real than all of those aspects ever could. 

“We could just kiss like real people do.”

[oikawasbliss]

10 with iwaizumi bae fuck writers block all my homies hate writers block 👺‼️

ikr fuck writers block 😒 they're the worst, the bane of my existence.

— [ 12:37 AM ] camping with the seijoh boys

note: i got carried away this was supposed to be a drabble 😭😭 idek if this is considered fluff 💀 but please enjoy!

word count: 1.1k | tags: best friends to lovers(?), manager!reader fluff & unrequited love

please reblog if enjoyed!!♡

you were in your tent alone attempting to fall asleep but all you're doing is move yourself in uncomfy positions. the repetitive turns, east and west, you had a whole tent for yourself but you couldn't seem to properly rest.

so you sat, thinking of anything else to do while watching your phone clock pass a minute, there wouldn't be anything much to do considering how almost all of the vbc members are asleep and you didn't want them to wake up with their dreams disturbed. also if there were any server connection to where you are then maybe you could've done something to ease your boredom.

you then thought of just strolling through the woods in the middle of the night, seems relaxing, alone in the dark. sounds perfect.

you felt courage as your hand reluctantly slid the zipper open of your tent.

your eyes widen in surprise as you feel warm and spot a dim brightness of fire in the distance. is someone still awake? you thought as you stood up and walked, following that has been taken to your attention.

getting near you saw a figure sitting on a log, seeing the spikes of their hair made you think that it was either the vbc members kindaichi or iwaizumi.

still, you have to be cautious in case it was neither of them, though thankfully as you get close the person was indeed iwaizumi, having almost large arms and a more dangerously spikier hair than the first year, you immediately knew it was him, well he was your best friend after all.

“ hey.. ” you called him quietly, he heard your voice and turned to you in a flash feeling like he'd get caught for staying so late in the campfire and ordering him to go back to his tent.

“ oh hey manager. ” he responded idly, facing his head back to the light of the fire.

“ oh come on, just call me by my name. ” you then carely took a seat beside him, “ why are you up this late? ”

“ should ask you the same, why are you awake? ”

“ hmm… ” you slightly squint your eyes, thinking of a reason as to why you are still standing awake, you should've taken the question back to him but you felt like actually giving a reason for him to answer back. “ i can't sleep? well i was the first one to sleep but i just seem to not… you know? ”

iwaizumi lets out a short chuckle, “ i get it, don't worry. ”

after that the whole air between you two turned quiet, only the clicking of the fire burning the wood beneath it.

you didn't want to sleep and go back to your tent, you just got up and you're not gonna go back now because of the awkward silence.

you broke the silence and started making up a topic that you two will talk about.

and you guys did, talking and transitioning to a new topic as you guys go on. smiles plastered to both of your faces as one another tells their story, you didn't even have to check the time if it's late or not, you sure as heck don't feel sleepy at all, you want to keep talking and talking. well, it's always been fun talking to iwaizumi, you don't want this babbling to end.

after a long series of laughter you two stopped trying to consume more of the hot breeze made by the flame in front of you two.

“ it's been forever since we've talked like this.. ” the man brought up, raising both of his hands to warm them by the warm air.

you felt that this is getting in a deep turn, but it's also a relief that you two are able to be open to each other after days acting like you two have a neutral relationship.

“ well, it's mostly on me, i had a lot of things to work on and i guess i got too busy… ”

“ oh no! don't blame yourself, we were all really busy and didn't have time to hang out, oikawa really missed us three being together. ”

the edges of your lip curled slightly, grinning by the words the other said. “ it's been that long huh? ”

“ —if only that man is still awake maybe we'll have more fun together. ” your smile transitioned to a smirk, wiggling your brows making that bulb of his light up to get the hint, and he did.

“ wanna wake him up? ” he asked, darting his eyes at the tent the brunette's currently sleeping in.

“ it's like you read my mind. ” your smile becomes wider as you place your hands on the log, helping you to stand up.

“ wait— before we do that. can i talk to you for a sec? ” he intervened, you don't know if he's serious or not, regardless you still chose to stay and listen.

the truth is he likes you, a lot. but these feelings for you were only kept to himself, not telling anyone, not even oikawa, though he had this fear of losing connection to you even more considering how poorly you guys are getting along with the packed schedules that were assigned to both of you.

it would sound weird to confess immediately, for this was iwaizumi's original plan, to confess properly but he didn't think this was the good time to do so.

“ ha...hajime? ” you hesitantly tilt your head to see the other's face, lost in thought, what will he say? you thought. this sounds serious, it will totally ruin the vibe when waking up oikawa but… i still want to listen. you kept talking to yourself inside your head until hajime faces up and looks at you.

“ I don’t know if you know this but, I love you. ”

there was silence, you didn't know if he's serious at all, he just said that out of the blue.

if he was... who are you to reject him?

“ wha— huh?— that was so sudden. ” you gasp as if like a bulb above your head lit up. “ was that a confession?! ” you added in a teasing tone, your eyes widened, and your lips smiled subconsciously.

iwaizumi didn't know what he just said too, it just vomited out of his mouth.

he blinked, grinned and looked up to the stars displayed at the beautiful night sky.

“ whatever or however you understood it. ”

your hues quickly faced to the other, his eyes were glistening by the reflection of the stars above, however i understood it? you thought to yourself once more, well your first thoughts on what he said was a confession, confessing his love for you, but you didn't want to assume quickly, but he said that to you, the exact three words, then he probably really meant that.

you furrow your eyes in curiosity, you wanted to force him to say what he actually meant by it, but at the same time, your pride told you that it was indeed a confession.

you slowly lay your head onto his shoulder, a grin plastered on your face as you two continued to watch the stars

“ you know? i love you too. ”

[aizawasthot]

sneaky | bakugou k.

summary: you and your friends go out to play laser tag and bakugou is determined to win. college!au pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader warnings: cursing lmaooo word count: 1.4k

note: my snapchat memories showed me my snaps from one year ago when i went laser tagging w my friends. now i’m sad and trying to make my brain do the smile emote because i miss the homies

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Hello, you beautiful bastards. Guess what just opened a couple blocks from campus?” Denki greeted as soon as he reached your usual table in the library. The group stared at Denki, waiting for what dumb idea he has on his mind. You sat beside Mina Kirishima, tackling Molecular Biology. Bakugou was there too, but he sat at the end of the table, earphones plugged in as he worked on Advanced Calculus. Bakugou looked up to see who it was, but he rolled his eyes and quickly went back to work when he saw Denki.

Seeing that nobody wanted to answer the yellow-haired boy, Kaminari sat down beside Kirishima and rolled his eyes. “Okay, since you’re so eager to find out what it is, I’ll tell you,” he said  sarcastically, placing his backpack on the table. “There’s a new laser tag place and--” Kaminari paused to reach something in his bag. “I got us a group pass! We can go this Saturday!” He exclaimed, which got a couple of hushes from some students sitting nearby.

“Okay?” Kirishima said, dropping his pen as he turned to Denki.

“Okay? That’s all you have for the good news I just said? We haven’t had a group hang out in weeks! I miss you, you absolute fools,” he sighed dramatically, clutching his chest with one hand.

“You’re the fool if you think I’m coming to that thing,” Bakugou spoke up, one of his earbuds off as he listened to what Kaminari was saying. The group chuckled at Kaminari’s expression as he turned beet red.

“Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. Plus, we have three classes together, Bakugou, I’ll keep annoying you til you say yes,” Denki smirked. Bakugou scoffed and said nothing.

“Well?” Denki looked at the rest of your group, waiting for what you guys had to say.

“I’m in, I guess,” Mina shrugged, not completely hating the idea.

“Sure,” Kirishima said, picking up his pen once again as he turned his attention back to his notes.

“[Y/N]? Pretty please, my sweet child? I miss hanging out with you,” he pleaded with his infamous puppy eyes.

“Of course! I don’t work this weekend so spending the day with you guys sounds good,” you smiled at the boy. Who could resist those eyes?

Denki pumped his arms in the air, feeling victorious for winning the three of you over. He turned to Bakugou, who still had one earbud off but paying no attention to Denki. He gave you a nudge, giving you a “please” look, wanting you to be the one to ask Bakugou.

“What about you Bakugou? Do you want to go?” You asked the boy with a smile. He looked up from his notes with a bewildered look.

“Uh-- sure,” he said, his neck starting to heat up. What the fuck? Why did I say yes? Bakugou thought to himself, frowning at how quick you got him to change his mind. “I guess,” he shrugged more casually, trying to keep his cool.

“Perfect! It’s settled then, we’re all going,” you smiled brightly. It’s that damn smile, he thought, shaking his head.

---

Laser tagging was all fun and games until all of you realized that it’s more fun to betray each other as you get down and dirty to score the highest.

“No fair, Mina! I thought we were pairing up!” Denki whined from the upper level, his vest buzzing and turning bright red against the dark room, indicating that he’s been tagged.

“Oh sweetie, this is war,” was all Mina said as she laughed and ran away from him.

You looked around at your spot, scanning the space you were holed up in. It was a good camping spot, your back was against a solid wall, so you don’t have to worry that someone would tag you from behind. In front of you were two walls with two openings, great for looking out for enemies and to shoot at people while also being able to duck down and take cover. The last wall had the entrance, so it was only a pretty small opening that you can hide in the corner and take cover. You were peeking through one of the openings when you heard footsteps. Whipping your head towards the sound, you see that it was Bakugou.

“Hey, can I hide here, too?” He whispered, his laser gun lowered down. “It’s the best hiding spot, you can even shoot to the upper level without being detected,” he explained, walking towards you.

“And how do I know you’re not going to tag me, huh?” You quirked a brow, your gun pointed at him.

“Because my main target today is to only tag Denki to spite him for making me go here,” he smirked, walking closer and closer. “Plus, we can team up together,” he suggested, gun still lowered.

“Oh-- uhm, sure. Okay then, I guess,” you muttered. Maybe it’ll be fun to see Bakugou’s playful side.

During the game, you and Bakugou had to relocate when Kirishima found you and tagged the both of you, then again when Denki tagged Bakugou. You and Bakugou were leaning against a wall and trying to catch your breaths after having a close call with Mina. You tried to scan the area when the speaker announced that you had 5 minutes left of the game.

“Aw really? Just 5 minutes left?” You whined. You were so into it that the game felt shorter than it actually was. “I’m having too much fun, I don’t want to leave yet,” you said, looking up at the boy as you try to cool down from all the running.

“I guess the airhead was right, this was a good group activity,” he replied, turning his head to you, his face too close to yours.

You turn away so fast your neck may have been broken. You started stuttering, trying to back away from Bakugou. “Uh-- so uhm-- we should try and--” you stopped talking when you realized Bakugou was following you, walking closer to you until your back was pressed against a wall. He swallowed dryly as he looked into your eyes -- his body pressed against yours and his face only inches away. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice raspy and low. “You’re right, this is fun,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Baku-- Bakugou, uhm- we should see if--.” He cut you off, pressing his index finger against your lips to shut you up. Your heart was beating wildly, and you can feel your face heating up.

“I had fun today, [Y/N],” he said. You can feel his breath against your face, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

When he pressed his body closer to you, you let out a small whimper. “Bakugou-- what are you doing?” You asked, mouth slightly parted as you struggled to breathe once again. 

He tilted his head, smirking. “Oh this? It’s nothing, sweetheart.” His lips were suddenly on yours, and you can’t help but moan softly when he swiped his tongue against your lips. Your eyes shut as you dropped your gun, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies closer. God, he tasted like heaven. You loved the way his hand squeezed your hip, holding you close to him. His lips felt amazing, it was like-- 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt your vest buzz and light up red. Son of a bitch, you internally cursed, pulling away from him. Right after your vest buzzed, the final buzzer of the game went off, indicating the end of the game. 

“Oh you sneaky little shit,” you blurted out, eyes snapping open to glare at the blond.

He laughed, his head thrown back, “I’m sorry, I had to,” he chuckled, leaning his face closer once more. “I meant what I said though,” he continued, crimson eyes staring at your own. “I had fun-- with you.” His lips were back on yours, his hands on your waist. You melt back into his touch, your fingers coming up to the back of his head, playing with his hair.

When the kiss broke off, he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’ve always wondered what that felt like,” he breathed out. 

“What-- kissing me or betraying me?” You snorted, shoving him lightly. You were in high spirits, but in reality you felt like you were about to pass out from his sudden actions.

“Definitely kissing you,” he said, and his lips found yours again. 

[blonde-toddy]

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 6

It has taken me a while to do this. But I write this shit down so....

I wonder if they got busy in that carriage.

Probably.

Ok Clyvedon! Y'all are definitely not in the square anymore.

Aww Mrs. Colson. You're so proper and ready to show off and he's just trying to break that back in.

Gahh that place.

Ok Simon, go off!

Aw we're really just diverting there.

You really don't want to know Hyacinth.

Eloise is not here for the shits.

Oh, Colin. You fucking idiot. The one time Violet and Anthony are in agreement.

Colin you happy, dumb boy.

Brothels though?

Colin has a point. He is older than Daphne.

To be fair Colin and Daphne are both getting okie doked.

You horny mfs. I love it.

"You are already Duchess of all this." Yes please.

Ooooh that flip and the way he patted at her hips. They are too good.

Aw Daphne is trying to be proper and Simon is like "fuck all that."

Your Graces.

Jeffries dgaf about this damn honeymoon.

Oh Daphne, she just wants to show you around without YOUR commentary.

Redecorating? Didn't she say she did a bunch of improvements?

"A perfect Duchess." Ok you shady bitch.

Yeah that nursery shit is coming back.

All dressed up and no where to go.

"You're so far away." He wants his WIFE!

They have no chill and the staff don't know how to react.

Mrs. Colson absolutely does not approve.

Girl he hates that place. Gut it!

This man and the way he takes off gloves. Good fucking gawd.

Their poor staff.

I swear I swear I swear that man man is living, breathing, dripping seduction.

Well shit take it outside then.

Queue the rain.

Yes. Remove the wet clothes. ALLUM!!!!!

He is the king of playin with it. And I fucking love it.

"Do you like this?" Fuck yes! Talk. To. Me.

I wonder how many orgasms this man has caused.

"Tell me what you want." Keep talking, yes.

And by "you" she meant that dick.

"Does that hurt?" No boo, it sure doesn't.

But your ignorance on the subject does. Him taking advantage of your ignorance also does.

I love love love Simon but I'm having a harder time with his evasion now that they're actively getting busy.

She's bound to figure it out though, right?

Ahh they're still hot af to me.

Oh shit they're still going.

That picnic. Omfg. Flippin that ass like.....

Head on a ladder?!?!?! Get you some Daphne. Oh sweet Simon....

Sex on a ladder too.

They're really like "fuck the staff." And the staff is like "haha, keep fuckin."

Don't go there Mrs. Colson....

Welp.

That shoe dropping. Gawd yes.

Daphne really went from knowing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to getting that Grade A like a beast.

Though Simon is obviously a withholder, the man is sexually attentive and attuned to her physical desires. He comes to please, indeed.

That tangle.

Ok, girl tell Rose your business.

I do love Rose. I want more of her.

"His physical inability to have children." Oh the sting of lies and ignorance.

"Difficult entanglement." Go head Rose.

Oh Colin, you fucked up lil buddy.

Hyacinth is a treasure.

I like that Violet does try to be supportive.

Penelope and her passive aggressive ass is saucy.

She's mad af.

The sisters do crack me up.

Penelope is dripping salt.

Oh Eloise. They really are putting you out there homie.

Awkward Marina.

Portia is mf hyped! She is all about that social climbing.

But she's gotta negotiate the bag before she pop tags on new Dresses.

Aw shit Marina caught Delacroix. Her French accent was a bit cartoonish.

Curious Eloise.

Oh children.

Oh poor oblivious Daphne. Simon, help your wife.

A fucking tie. Bitch they gotta kill them to eat them. Simon, again, help your wife. Tell your wife THINGS!

Y'all fucking dumb off all that sex and living in la la land apparently.

Well somebody liked his evil ass daddy.

Diplomatic Daphne.

Another sprinkle of kids....and pregnancy too.

I saw that longing look.

Aww she's worried he's hurt by being around children. If only you knew.

"I thought only of you." Really, mf?! As you keep up this lie.

She's so optimistic about her circumstances.

He's lucky he's beautiful. And that I pity him a bit. Because he's a motherfucker.

How did you get so lucky? Well you're lying to your wife and she doesn't know how sperm works sooooooo there's that.

What a beautiful expansive scene though.

Penelope is PISSED.

No belly yet.

Passive. Aggressive.

Oh this dinner is so awkward.

Portia you are not subtle at all.

Anthony is still CLEARLY not here for this engagement.

Oh is she about to snitch.

Well shit. She's kind of snitching.

Aww. He thinks your such a good friend, but hes got this.

You're sneaky and he's stupid.

Marina is hustling.

Eloping is always a grand idea. Colin you fucking dummy.

Marina is so relieved.

Aw where's Simon?

Sad Daphne is not a good look.

Grouchy workaholic Simon is not a good look either....but he does have a lot of responsibility in all fairness.

Mrs. Colson is so sick of Daphne.

Homegirl is just trying to find her footing. At least Rose stays supportive.

Have I said how much I love Rose?

Damn no one wants to talk to Daphne.

Aw she's befriended the pregnant lady with the screaming toddler.

I'm glad someone is finally explaining shit to Daphne. She can't grow if she don't know.

Too busy for his wife now......I'm not liking this vibe.

Aw she's trying to hash it out with Mrs. Colson.

Oooh she's looking for guidance about Simon.

He really hasn't told her shit about his life.

The power dynamic of their relationship is frustrating.

All this talk of being barren.....

She misses Simon's mama.

Strong seed got her thinking!

Penelope you sneaky, lying ass....what are you up to?

She has hope yet again. She about to expose her mother.

She ain't giving up.

Marina is damned and determined to marry Colin.

Oh Marina went there THERE.

You're gonna see your wife, Your Fucking Grace.

Stressy Simon is such a grouch.....but I'm not judging. I'm the same way.

But when they're affectionate, fuck.

He really just tossed her up on that desk like "Fuck work."

And he proceeded to fuckin work that mf thang.

How many people in the world are fucking like crazy right now because their significant others stay turned on by this show.

If I were not single, I would most definitely be pouncing on my partner ALL. THE. TIME.

Ok. Back to the show.

That was a mighty aggressive pull-out.

Relatable Simon. I too like foods after fucks.

Oh shit Daphne connecting the dots.

Rose out here saving the day like usual.

Well at least Daphne knows where babies come from now.

Everything is about to shatter, amrite?

She can't even hear a word he says. She feels so betrayed.

The piglet.

Dat ass though. And those shoulders.

Yeah that's gonna be a no tonight.

Oooh and now he wakes up without her.

She's fucking heartbroken.

The man she loves took away her choice with his deceit.

He allowed her to believe he was unable, not unwilling.

Would she have married him if he told the truth?

He was ready to die about the shit and still lied though.

All he ever had to do was tell her the whole fucking truth.

Everything this WOMAN knows about love and sex, she's learned from this man (and the real MVP Rose). He has literally taught her everything from the start of her sexual awakening. He knows better than anyone how ignorant she is regarding literally ANYTHING sexual in nature. I know he's insanely damaged, but this fucking hurts.

It's a unique feeling of unease and helplessness when you feel or realize you don't have agency over your own body.

An absence of the option to consent if you will.

I know this is a show, and I suppose it's doing its job because it's getting me deep into my thoughts and feelings. And I sure as a mf ENJOY THE FUCK out of watching them literally breathe in the same room with each other....among the many other things they do onscreen together. I guess I'm just heartbroken too. Shit. Plus y'all know I love tf out of my girl Daphne.

Ok back to the show again. This episode is fucking with my emotions.

Daphne is stewing!

But fuck if this isn't romantic as a mf.

These 2 fuck me up every time!

JPOLND - The End. That's this song. And this song is perfect.

Yes y'all! Rip them clothes off.

Daphne looks wild as hell. Carnal. She has a carnal look about her.

Ok bitch. Climb that mf tree then!

Is she anger-fucking him?!

Either way, he's loving it!!!

This song really is perfect.

Oh shit she's not letting up.

Fuck.

This shoe dropping?! Gawd NO!

She was literally like you took my choice so I took yours.

These fucking two.

He's hot with it for good reason for sure, but she is going in!

How the fuck could you think she knew how this worked when she didn't know what masturbation, let alone sex was until you got a hold of her?

YOU. PLAYED. ON. HER. IGNORANCE.

Maybe this conversation should have been had before y'all got naked.

They're both right in their own ways.

But they are absofuckinglutely wrong in so many of their own ways too.

He didn't ask for her pity and she didn't ask for his betrayal.

They are tearing me apart right now!

Big Sean said it best. "I guess drama makes for the best content."

I'm still rooting for them. I love growth and we still got 2 episodes left. They can't stay stuck like this, I'm sure.

Oh hey Whistledown.

Aww go to your friend.

Wtf is going on?

Are they all trying to kill me?

Aw fuck. Marina has been blasted by Whistledown. It's over.

Pure little Colin.

Oh Simon is heartbroken and Daphne.......she's desperate for a baby.

"Can the ends ever justify such wretched means?" That's a great question Whistledown. I'll have to get back to you on that.

I will close this with happiness because I refuse to accept this heartbreak.

[doomed-void]

.about.

🌙 howdy, i’m jack! and welcome to my blog! this is my overall homestuck blog, and i just post and reblog things here, nothing much. however, i will say that i love history, philosophy, and psychology! i’m also a big horror fan, and anything that’s rlly eldritch. i also rlly love the night and the moon! he/him + masuc titles only. my tag of where i just talk is rogue of doom.txt. I’m also mlm!

🌙 i’m also autistic and i ask of you to be patient with me. something might be hard for me to grasp, and i also use tone indicators. while i have gotten better on what’s sarcasm and what’s joking.

🌙 i’m aware of the problematic elements of homestuck, and i do not condone them. i’m critical of all my interests, especially with homestuck. it does mean a lot to me, but there’s a lot of wrong with the series. and basically, fuck the epilogues and h^2. all of my homies hate the epiloigues and h^2.

🌙 dni if you’re overall a gross fucker. i.e. pro shippers, terf, map, incest shippers (this includes fiction), fujoshi, etc. also dni if you’re a junebugger/hardjuner. y’all freak me out. dni if you’re a yanderecore/or if you run a yanderecore blog. dni if you like mcyt/dsmp.

🌙 please tag davekat and dirkjake. i just rlly don’t wanna see the ships, lmao. 

🌙 i’ll only follow back if i trust you. trust issues are fun /s

🌙 rogue of doom + aries (sun), aquarius (moon), gemini (rising) + derse dreamer

🌙 me and my system’s blog @nightshadesystem​

🌙 Check out my sister's commissions!

[calypsoff]

Twenty Seven.

Rolling my eyes hard while on FaceTime to Chris, you know what why is the man I love, also is the love of my life and I adore him so much, but he is so fucking stubborn. He has his moments where he will leave his ego at the door where he will obey me and what I say and then the next day he will refuse to hear me out or say I am being judgemental and I need to listen to what I am saying to him, it’s always my way, it never is anyways. But I swear he does shit and doesn’t think of the bigger picture at all “you got a face on with me?” So he says “not so much, you could be here with me in Cali but instead you’re there in Virginia about to do something dumb, it’s not even your child to care” I want to tell him no, I want to say to him if you love me don’t go but I know it will fall on deaf ears. I will look like the nasty one and that I look insecure when I don’t “exactly, show my face and go” I sniggered “that is the issue, you know why Chris. Do it, go. I am busy anyways, I think you need a lesson” rubbing my forehead “you are doing the most for nothing, it’s really nothing. But anyways I’m going to go and look pretty” annoying asshole “ok bye” disconnecting the call before he could say anything more, he just wants to annoy me “why does he purposely go out of his way to be an asshole!” I shouted “baby you could have said no, it’s easy” Mel added hearing the whole conversation, this is whole other issue. I don’t like how we are all dating people in the same circle, if shit goes wrong it will affect us “you don’t know Chris like I do, but you know what. Let him go, he hasn’t had the blogs be on his ass, he doesn’t know what it is like being famous and he will soon find out, I want him too. I’m going to rehearsal and ignoring him when he’s getting tagged in false claims, I don’t care for them. I just didn’t want the mess but let him, he will be calling me up saying I didn’t do anything. Let it happen Mel, who am I to hide him when he doesn’t want it from me, but I am angry, and until further notice I don’t want to know” shaking my head, he is going to get a nasty wake up call.

I enjoyed Virginia a lot, I loved how homie it was. I enjoyed my time with Chris, and I loved it all. It was a real good time away to be honest, it was my home when I was doing the exchange programme, I loved that his family treated me well and I feel Chris and I are closer than ever. But he just needs to stop trying to hear his own voice, like he doesn’t need to go but he will. And I can’t wait to hear him call me and say I didn’t do anything when they are dragging him, me. I have become immune to it, Chris will get a lesson in this “you have a face like thunder, the dancers are going to be shook” Mel said through her laughter “oh I’m not angry, I was just thinking. But how is you and Barry getting on? Is he less stubborn than Chris? Does he actually listen” Mel chuckled, she is laughing but I’m not, I hate when Chris is like this. Tries to be the man of our home, he knows damn well he will be crying to me “he’s a nerd, like Chris and I like that about him. He’s easy going, and we talk every day. He said that if we do end up being together and it works out well enough that he would move here and I’m like nigga already!? I mean I am not whipped at all but he’s nice, and easy going” I sighed out “oh brother, now why can’t Chris be this way” my man is a whole pain “because he likes to be the man of the house, I don’t know. Something he will get over but I’m excited” I’m scared of this whole relationship with friends’ things, I am just not sure of what to make of it. I feel like we will be judging each other, maybe that’s me because Chris is being a pain, but I hope it’s not what I assume it will be, I want better for me, for him, for us to be honest.

Robyn is cute, like she left me her gold chain. I mean it’s cute and small, but she left it behind, I think she did, or she purposely left it here, but I am wearing it anyways. Putting my snapback backwards, I wore the chain anyways, but I am just wearing the minimum, I wore white tee and grey sweatpants. I am just going to go to the thing and then leave, I am there for the free food like the fuck. It’s not even that deep, like I don’t understand why it’s a big thing, I mean I get it but it’s nothing. Go there and leave, that is it. I am late anyways, I told him I am going to go there late because I don’t want to be there all day. They are having the reveal at a hall, so I will turn up and then leave. I showed my face, I am there for my nigga so does it matter. Closing my bedroom door and making my way down the steps “where are you going?” Desean asked me “out, I will be back. Dad, I am borrowing the car!” I shouted; I been borrowing the car every day since being here. I need to get my own car; this is my list for my family. A new car for them, a new home. A bigger one anyways, they deserve it “when will you be back?” my dad asked “I won’t be long, I am going to see TJ” my dad nodded his head “uh, isn’t it Seiko gender party today? I saw someone post a little something about it” nodding my head “anyways, bye” I don’t need to hear anyone speak on this, I know what I am doing. This is my life, I need to take a hold of it in a way of making big money, I need to get into that life. And I think California, well me being in California will do me good. I need that in my life, I need to win big for me and my family and also Robyn, I need to do it for her too.

Locking my car door and making my way to the hall, these Jordan’s I have on right now are brand new, I just bought them today and these sweatpants is what Drake gave me from his clothing line, dope. I ain’t dressed up, I ain’t even shaved so if anyone thinks I made the effort then they lying as fuck. Licking my top lip pulling open the door to the place, I told TJ I am coming, and he came to meet me “I am so fucking happy to see you my brother” TJ hugged me “nigga got a whole fucking clown suit on” Barry snorted laughing “I had to look the part, I got the Burberry tie on. Man, my momma is so happy about this. I hate it” moving back from the hug and dapping Barry “well of course you ain’t going to be happy, shit was a mistake” I chuckled “is Seiko brother’s here?” not like I care “mhmm yeah, they trying to beef me up but whatever” of course “I am hungry, where the food at. There better be chicken wings” rubbing my stomach “nigga I paid half, I made sure there was. We wait on you so come. We can get some alcohol and food” nodding my head, least they waited on me. I don’t care for anyone, just my brother’s.

Licking my fingers as I placed the paper plate down, I am getting weird looks from people I don’t know “little rat, why you keep coming here?” TJ said to his sister “can I get a picture with you?” wiping my hands on my sweatpants “who?” I asked “you” she pointed “me!?” I spat half confused “can I? I want to tell my friends that I know you because you date Rihanna!” she half shouted, I chuckled “who is Rihanna? I don’t date Rihanna ma, see. The pictures you see they are photoshopped. I am single” I lied, but she doesn’t believe me. She seems more disappointed that I even lied to her, she looked down at her phone “my sister is pain bro, like she into this celebrity shit. Like live you damn life “look” she patted my lap, turning to her “oh wow, who is that woman?” she out here pulling out receipts of Robyn and I “stop lying, can I please have a picture with you. You’re super famous now” she is tripping “I am not famous, my god. It’s me Chris! I ain’t had this before with you” TJ nudged me “just do it bro so we can get rid of her” taking in a deep breath “fine, come here” waving her over “TJ take it” she passed her his phone and she openly sat in my lap, I ain’t into this picture thing “you look so annoyed, smile for me. Quick” I grinned at the camera “now go away! Leave us alone, dang” that is the weirdest shit to happen to me today.

Sitting back in my seat as TJ made his way to his baby mother, I find this hilarious to me. I know this nigga hates this, but he is putting on a front, I am so happy it wasn’t me. Chewing on my bottom, Seiko and I eyes met and she is just blatantly staring at me in a room full of people, I mean I wish she looked away, but I can tell she regrets things, she looked away as she should. Clearing my throat looking away laughing to myself “you look well Chris” looking to the side of me “I do? You look well too Kristie” moving my arm from the chair “you’re rather the celebrity in this joint, kind of knocked my best friend off her pedestal” moving my chair away from her as she sat down “I don’t bite, I mean you should know that” rubbing my hands against my sweatpants “I ain’t do shit, I come here to support my friend” there is one thing, I never fucked ugly bitches and I love that for me “likewise, she does love you and still does” I sniggered “right, and having sex with my best friend made that right” she pointed at me “you sir are a hypocrite, you fucked all her friends” shaking my head “she was right there, y’all was ok with it. She knew it was wrong from jump with TJ. She knew that” is this girl being real right now “I never liked her like that anyways, that is the point. I am happier, away from her” Kristie laughed “who wouldn’t be dating Rihanna? She is beautiful and rich, you tell me Chris did you purposely take her there to get with Rihanna?” shaking my head “I didn’t think Rihanna would even remember me like that, I love her so much and I don’t pass around that word much so you can’t say it’s like that when it’s not. Nothing to do with being rich, she is my childhood sweetheart” I don’t care, I will tell the whole world “that sent my friend a shut up letter, Seiko loves you still. I say good riddance, she says she lost but you look well. Better then I last saw you naked” she winked at me “it’s the tan” she got up from her seat “I suppose” watching her walk off, now I should have dated her between her and Seiko.

I clapped seeing that my friend is having a son, happy for him. I think if he was having a girl he would be even more depressed “are you dating Rihanna? You’re the guy she is dating” this girl pointed me out, I stopped clapping “huh, what?” I said all confused “you’re like the guy Rihanna is dating, she was in Virginia and she was at her old school, oh my god you are actually him. I follow him!” she shouted “I am just a regular dude” I put my hands up, in my defence I am “can we like take a picture with you? You are literally the sexiest light skinned nigga. I get why she would date you” I chuckled “I will pass on the photos” I walked by them “congratulations brother, a boy” dapping TJ “I am so happy, like I don’t know what I would do with a girl. Now you need to have a boy, then Barry we all going to have a day care” shaking my head laughing “you need to get Rih pregnant, on god” I shushed him “relax on that, she busy now. But I am happy for you” hugging him “thank you” I know he appreciates it “nice seeing you here” Seiko spoke to me, I stepped back keeping my distance “for TJ, I am going to see to Barry” dapping TJ walking off.

Barry is eating again “people are weird here, they all are speaking on Rihanna and I am her boyfriend. I am but the fuck. I am just a regular dude” Barry is stuffing his face “that makes you famous by affiliation now Chris, you famous” furrowing my eyebrows “that is bullshit, anyways. Kristie came up to me. Started speaking on Seiko still in love with me and shit. This is why I ran here but I think it’s my time to go” I think I do “can we talk?” Seiko is right there “about what? There is nothing to talk about” Barry stood next to me, I ain’t moving anywhere with her “did you go to her concert to get back with her, I hate myself. She was laughing at me all that time when she took you from me” taking in a deep breath “I was never yours, yes I was with you. I dated you but it really meant nothing when I always loved her, I did. I wish you let me go, take off my pictures. Move on, so you can be happier in yourself also. I came here for TJ, not to see you. I am going Barry, good luck with that” I pointed at her bump as I walked off, all I know is that I am in my city but people are acting mad weird now with this Rihanna shit and I want to run home.

[werenotacoupleyesyouare]

IT HAPPENED AGAIN I FINISHED ROYAL ASSASSIN BEFORE EVEN MAKING A POST

-I will get into chronological order in a second but first, a rant: FITZ WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HOW DO YOU THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA OH MY GOD FITZ WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING-

-okay more on that later

- Glad to see no one died between book one and two, everyone is back and sexier than before of course except for Regal who was already the sexiest bitch in Buck keep

- just kidding y’all know that is Burrich

- I love how Robin Hobb decided we had to know that Burrich Fucks, I appreciate that of her

-Fitz is, as always, a complete dumbass. I’m starting to think that this is not just a temporary situation anymore

-Kettricken is really incredible, I may need to jump on the Kettricken simp train (although I’m more of a Patience lady myself I gotta say)

- This isn’t really an update but I keep thinking abiut how Galend used to say “you shall not have any contact with the opposite sex” like he wasn’t the only straight person in BuckKeep (well the only cishet at least except maybe for Shrewd)

Allow me to elaborate: Fitz and Molly? Bi. Hands? Gay. Burrich? Bi and not over his breakup with Chivalry. Patience? Bi and dating Lacey (lesbian). Verity and Kettricken are both trans, there is no way you can convince me otherwise. August is gay and repressed, which is different from Regal who is gay and homophobic. The fool is gender queer. Chivalry was pan. Chade is gay. The two girl classmates of Fitz one who became leader of the skilled kidz and the other who dropped out are dating, they broke up bc Galend’s psychological abuse had messed them up terribly but now they’re back together. (Update now I know more names, selene and justin both raging homos, truly evil stupid wlw/mlm solidariety). Will is gay too.

- OH I DESPERATELY WANT TO SEE BURRICH AND THE FOOL INTERACT I THINK THEY’D GET GET ALONG;; Burrich is friends with most of the young folk in Buckkeep, he’s a mentor to all of them and idk how old the fool is but I know they didn’t have that and they’re lonely as shit. They’re both done with every single person in BuckKeep and they both have at least one braincell, which is apparently extremely rare around here

-I love Fitz’s constant theme of “no one in BuckKeep knew. I was so furtive and secretive. No one could ever guess what I was doing” when he’s visiting either Night Eyes or Molly because I know all the folk in BuckKeep are like “ah shit there he goes again going to see that fucking wolf”

- MOLLY AND FITZ ARE SERIOUSLY SO DRAMATIC HDHENDJDJHFHDHC they gave me my fav scene ever though, where Molly and Fitz are doing their Dramatic Breakup Speech outside of Burrich’s room, while the Fool and Burrich are inside listening w a glass on the door like “shit- shit he’s coming in get away get away- Hello Fitz!”

- drunk fool was chaotic energy at its finest

- Patience and Kettricken keep being the absolute best I swear if Verity doesn’t come back I am marrying his wife myself

- on that note VERITY SIR I THOUGHT AT LEAST YOU HAD THE BRAINCELL,,, OH YES I’LL GO ALONE ON A MYTHICAL QUEST TO LOOK FOR FAIRIES SURELY MY EVIL BROTHER WON’T TRY ANYTHING WHILE I’M GONE ❤️

- ok everyone by now knows that I’m both a huge patience and burrich simp, but I will not believe for a second that they were in love, sorry Patience is in a happy relationship w Lacey and Burrich was always in love with Chivalry, I will not accept any other version of the story ❤️

- and now onto the sad part

- OKAY look I will tolerate any shit a character does, literally they could kill Fitz and I wouldn’t bat an eye but when Regal had the AUDACITY to order his men to hurt the Fool,,,, that was the irredeemable point of no return for me, Fuck regal all my homies hate regal

- I am growing extremely fond of the fool they’re the sweetest character so far I am honestly in love, also they’re smart thank god we needed someone with braincells near Fitz because that boy is a complete dumbass

- also the “Who did this to you.” scene after the fool got beaten up the first time,,,, I sense multishipping times nearing on the horizon

- when I tell you I cried my eyes out during Shrewd’s death,,,,,,,, not bc I care about the guy, pretty annoying as he was, but seeing the fool crying is not something I will ever recover from thanks

- everyone keeps saying that night eyes has the braincell out of him and Fitz but honestly!! That’s not true!! The wolf is a dumbass as well, it’s just that anyone put against Fitz would seem like a genius!!

- Fitz not realizing that Molly’s “the one I care most about” and Burrich’s “female friend who needs a hand” might,,, be related,,,,,,,,, lol

- idk if it’s actually like that but imagine how devastating it would be for Fitz to have his girlfriend stolen by his fucking DAD

or well father figure but still

- the way Fitz talks about Molly tho 💕💕

- The foreshadowing of Kettricken’s child actually being still born,,,,,,,,,,, I pretend I do not see

- The “let him go night eyes, he’s not yours” scene gave me chills tbh

- I’m manifesting some flashbacks of younger Chivalry, Verity, Patience and Burrich,,, I wanna see the dynamics,,,, don’t think I won’t write it myself if there aren’t any

- so yeah I have already started book three because I have no self control, every time Fitz skills out to Molly he gets a different picture of Burrich doing house work, if Fitz keeps this up he’ll be able to bless us all with the Hot Burrich Calendar we all deserve

Ending notes! I thought I would skip the liveship traders trilogy but everyone told me that it’s not a good idea so I’ll read everything in order :)

I am completely obsessed with these books please send help

Tagging some beautiful people @violetiris-ak @garnetrena @wolfofmars

[ewankoseyo]

pet names || mark imagine

A/N: By popular demand and in celebration of our favorite #Marknae’s birthday, I present to you a continuation of Mark’s fake dating drabbles! Hope you enjoy!

Warning: Some swearing idk 

Please read you owe me and just for show before reading this.

Pretending to date Mark would be a lot easier if it wasn’t so hard to tell when he was acting and when he wasn’t.

——

Mark said a lot of stupid things, but this was probably the most stupid thing to come out of his mouth by far.

“Mark, you’re a grown ass man. Why would you need to pretend to date when you could just, I don’t know, go out and find someone you actually like?”

Mark sighed as he put his mug down and ran a hand through his hair. He had really hoped that you of all people would be the most understanding and not question his rationale. 

You and Mark had known each other for as long as you could remember. Legend has it that your moms purposely got pregnant at the same time so their kids would end up best friends like they were. Though you two never got along growing up—you begged your mom to never invite him over again after he told Jackson about your crush on him at your 13th birthday party—things began to shift when you both entered high school and realized you didn’t know anyone else besides each other. Out of the necessity to survive the unknown, you and Mark stuck together.  

Serendipitously, you and Mark never seemed to un-stick since then. 

Throughout the turbulence of your teenage years and your differing career paths that you were afraid would split you apart, you two remained close friends. Staying in the city after you both graduated from college, Mark vowed to stop by your new café-bakery whenever he had time off from his busy schedule in his second year of residency. 

He was really hoping that his dedication to seeing you would make you more open to the outlandish proposition. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to go out and find someone I like. I really don’t have the time for a relationship.” Mark sighed again, his gaze averting to the menu board behind you. He noticed the new addition to the board, written in your usual fancy hand lettering. It seems like you finally perfected the pie you’d been working on last week. You’d send him a picture of your latest attempt, asking him to stop by the shop to try it when he had the time since your taste buds could no longer tell the difference. 

“Oh, but you have the time to pretend to date me?” You cocked an eyebrow questioningly at the guy before you, pausing your cleaning motions. “What is this even for? I thought you already put her behind you a long time ago.”

You and Mark collectively shuddered at the thought of the wretched girl. Things hadn’t ended so well after two (wasted) years together. Everyone in their cohort believed them to be the perfect couple—two beautiful people at the top of their class with the brightest futures ahead of them. You always believed they would get married once their busy schedules settled down. 

That was, until Mark showed up at your apartment one night unexpectedly, his hands visibly shaking and his eyes not knowing where to look. You silently watched as he paced through your living room, explaining to you almost incoherently the cause of his distress.

“I gave her two fucking years and she really wasted half of it fucking our professor.”

Mark ended up staying over that night. As you stroked his hair softly while he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled himself into your chest, his anger washed over with melancholic fatigue, you realized that you had never seen him look so broken before. Usually Mark was the one making you feel better after some failed date, but that night, he needed you to comfort him. 

That night also felt like ages ago, and Mark had realized he was better off without his ex, so why did he need you to help him with his facade?

“I have put her behind me,” Mark assured. “But ending things with her has...opened up other problems.”

“Like what?”

“Like some other girls from my cohort clearly trying to, um, get my attention.”

You scoffed. Leave it to Mark to think that having girls fawn over you is a problem big enough to resort to something as crazy as fake-dating. 

“Just tell them you’re not interested.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Mark resigned with a knowing look. You knew he always had a problem with confrontation. “Some of these girls are actually my friends from rotations and I don’t want to hurt their feelings.” Knowing you were ready to shoot back with another smart comment, Mark quickly continued. “But that isn’t even the whole problem! Ever since other girls have taken notice to me, she is suddenly interested in me all over again. I only recently blocked her number after she kept blowing up my phone with her sorry-ass apologies asking if we could get back together, and according to Jackson, she’s been trying to get closer to the guys in an attempt to get closer to me. Poor Yugyeom got really excited because he thought an older girl was finally interested in him until Jaebum set him straight.”

You were going to make a comment about how a restraining order and maybe a few other court-sanctioned forms would easily fix his problems when his last comment finally made his whole proposition click. 

Because if his ex-girlfriend really wanted to get closer to him, she wouldn’t just get close to the guys—she would try to get close to you. 

It was no secret that she was never really fond of you while they were dating. And with you still by his side long after their relationship had gone to shit, you imagined the feeling had festered. 

“So let me get this straight...” You got out your rag from your apron and began to clean the countertop in an attempt to clean out your mind and think of the situation logically. “You want me to pretend to date you so that your ex and all of your other little fangirls will back off?”

“Yes, yes, I know this sounds crazy, but if it weren’t for the witch making everything so complicated, I wouldn’t be in such a bind.” 

“God Mark, this is some high school shit,” you say with a shake of your head. “And why would I agree to doing such a thing? What’s in it for me?”

“Because you’re kind and wonderful and would do anything to help a homie out?” You rolled your eyes at his hopeful pleading expression. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers and he pouted his lip adorably. This may have worked on his admirers, but it wasn’t going to work so easily on you. “And it wouldn’t be so much work on you. We already spend all our free time together so it wouldn’t be much of a change from how we are now. I’ll do whatever you want, within reason of course. Whatever you want, just say the word.”

You brushed passed Mark as you bussed dirty dishes and his now empty mug off the counter, ignoring his expectant expression through your motions.

“If we do this, we should probably set some ground rules.”

Pleased with your (albeit unenthusiastic) response, Mark reached over the counter to ruffle your hair. “You’re the best! Thank you so much, babe!”

“Rule number one: I hate pet names.”

Mark only chuckled at your disdain as you retreated to the kitchen to put the dishes away. As you began to load the dishwasher, you found a similar grin inching its way on your lips. 

——

As per his ground rules, Mark insisted that you two keep up the act in front of both your friends and families. In order to deter his admirers, the people closest to you needed to believe the lie as well. You weren’t going to make this huge announcement to your loved ones like it was a wedding invite, but when the opportunity to put on a show presented itself, you both were expected to take it.

This included attending a dinner party at your fake boyfriend’s best friend’s house because couples always showed up to functions as a couple, of course. 

With one of Mark’s (many, you soon realized) admirers in attendance at Jackson’s small get-together, tonight had proved to be a good night to begin your masquerade. 

No one thought anything of it when you two arrived to the house together. Mark bringing you a glass of wine from the bar while you were catching up with Jinyoung was nothing out of the ordinary. No one batted an eyelash when he casually put an arm around you as you all listened to one of Jackson’s crazy stories. 

It was when you were coming out of the bathroom and realized everyone was gathering for a group photo in the living room that suddenly caught everyone’s attention. Bambam noticed you first. 

“Oh, Noona, hurry up! It’s on timer! Guys, make some room.”

Without skipping a beat, Mark patted the spot on his lap. “It’s okay. Babe, just sit here.” 

“Babe?!”

The camera clicked as the dinner party slowly registered Mark’s words. Seeing as everyone was caught up in shock from the revelation as you nonchalantly placed yourself in Mark’s lap and embrace, it was necessary that more pictures needed to be taken. 

Thoughts of the evening flowed through your head after Mark dropped you off home and you finally got to settled into bed. Everything had felt completely normal and no one questioned your relationship with Mark until it was time to take pictures. Even when he took you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle as a show of affection, his cheesy smile matching yours as he placed his chin on your shoulder—to you, it had simultaneously felt so normal yet the thought caused a stir in your stomach. 

It wasn’t that weird for you and Mark to be affectionate and touchy with one another, so why couldn’t you stop thinking about his gesture from earlier?

You felt your phone buzz next to you as you tried to shake off those thoughts. Adjusting your eyes to the dim lighting, you soon realized it was a notification from Jackson. He had tagged you and Mark in a comment on a photo. 

“And the cutest couple award goes to...”

You quickly opened up Instagram to see that Jaebum had already posted the pictures from earlier. You recognized the first picture as the moment of everyone’s discovery where you and Mark were the only ones posed for the picture while everyone else looked at the both of you with a mix of shock, confusion, and excitement. The second was the normal picture where everyone was finally smiling after having calmed down a bit from the revelation (though you noticed that Mark’s admirer in attendance wasn’t quite smiling with her eyes.) The final picture was the funny one. Your eyes scanned over everyone else’s silly expressions and gestures with one another before they landed on you and Mark. He was whispering in your ear about how Jackson’s fly was unzipped the whole night and how everyone was waiting for him to find out on his own. The comment had you cackling, nearly knocking you out of his lap before you wrapped an arm around his neck for balance. Mark’s arms had instinctively held you tighter to keep you from falling. 

You were pretty sure you stared at the photo for a good ten minutes. You couldn’t believe it—you two really looked like an actual couple together. 

Was this how everyone usually saw you two? You noticed the other comments on the photo were about the big reveal as well. 

bambam1a: @yu_gyeom pay up! I told you they would get together!

333cyj333: omg I really thought they were dating already

jinyoung_0922jy: wow all the signs were there but none of us picked up on it

Was this how you usually saw the two of you? 

You immediately shut off your phone as the idea invaded your thoughts and you turned on your side to get some sleep for real. Perhaps you were getting these crazy thoughts because you weren’t getting enough sleep. 

——

As Mark predicted, pretending to be a couple didn’t put much work on you. Besides having to get used to the small PDA—you remembered turning into a blushing mess when Mark pecked you on the cheek for the first time after introducing you to his hospital friends—nothing had really changed in the way you had to act in front of people. You would still be roasting each other in front of your friends. The only difference was that Mark would pull you into his arms and plant a kiss on your forehead, muttering “just kidding, babe” soon afterwards. 

You also appreciated having Mark at your beck and call, as per your ground rules. You tried not to have him go out of his way to owe you for the favor, seeing as he was already a pretty busy and stressed out guy, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy the free dinners and him lending you his new car. 

And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t kind of enjoy the newfound attention you were receiving. After a few public appearances as a couple and some not-so-subtle pictures showing the two of you together posted by mutual friends on social media, word quickly spread that you and Mark were a thing. People you hadn’t talk to since high school were messaging you to congratulate you on locking down the most handsome guy in your graduating class. You no longer felt like the odd single one out when hanging out with your other taken friends—and thankfully, you didn’t have to put up with them trying to set you up anymore. One time when you were waiting for Mark to finish up his shift at the hospital—he had promised you dinner and boba if you waited for him—one of his friends from his rotation had approached you. It didn’t take too long to realize she was one of his admirers. 

“You two look so cute together,” she had said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than compliment you. “I’m surprised you and Mark only started dating recently, I always assumed you were together already.”

Your lip quirked in confusion. You had never met the girl before, so how could she make any assumptions about you and Mark? “What do you mean?”

She gave you a sad smile before looking down at her feet. “He just looks so happy when he talks about you, and he talks about you all the time. He keeps telling us to check out your shop and during our breaks, he shows us pictures of the desserts you make. He seemed so smitten with you.” 

Before you could ask her what Mark has said about you, the man in question was suddenly at your side. He beamed at you, interlacing your fingers before placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Hey princess, ready to go?”

So you and Mark were garnering a lot of attention. It was not long before you caught the attention of someone you really didn’t want to find out. 

“My mom wants us to come over this weekend for dinner.” 

You nearly choked on a boba pearl when Mark made the announcement. 

“What? Why?”

Mark gave you an apologetic look. “Apparently your mom told my mom, and you know how she is about us...she’s just really excited...”

You groaned as you took another sip of your drink. You had hoped that you would be able to put off this moment for a while longer. You were already getting an earful from your mom when she found out about you two, always nagging you to make sure that Mark was eating enough and even going as far as to sending you links to home remedies when you told her offhandedly he had caught a small cold. As much as you loved Mark’s mom, you didn’t know if you could handle acting all lovey-dovey with her son in front of her. 

Despite your apprehension, you tried to look on the bright side. “Dinner, huh? At least your mom is an amazing cook.”

Mark grinned at you across the table. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t ask you when you’re giving her a grandchild. She already has like two of them.”

You chuckled. “Good.”

It was true. Mark’s mom didn’t bring up anything about your future kids, but she did bring up something else.

“There’s my good daughter-in-law!”

“Mom!” Too caught off-guard by the greeting to respond, you were glad Mark spoke up first. Mark moved in front of you to hug his mom, subtly shooing her away from you as he moved inside the house. “It hasn’t even been a full month yet, don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?”

“Nonsense!” Mark’s mom moved to pinch her son’s cheek, earning a fake groan from the tall boy. “Your aunty and I have been—”

“—Trying to set us up since high school?” You interrupted before approaching the woman with open arms and a teasing smile. “You and my mom think you’re both so slick, don’t you? Hi Aunty!”

“Well, we were right, weren’t we?” Mark’s mom giggled as she led you both to the dining room. “Come eat! I made all your favorites!”

Your worries over the impending evening slowly went away over dinner. You found it quite comforting actually. Catching up with the Tuans and eating Mark’s mom’s amazing cooking reminded you of the old days when his parents would come home from work and tell you to stay for dinner when you and Mark were hanging out at his place. It was as if nothing had changed since you were a teenager. 

As you glanced over at Mark, who was miserably failing to deny the extra food his mom was forcing onto his plate, you realized that Mark hadn’t changed much either. Despite growing out of his awkward phase, he still had the same funny nose that you liked to poke to annoy him. The same bright eyes that seemed to disappear when he was laughing hysterically from a dumb joke. The same contagious smile that you found yourself slowly falling for. 

Wait, what?

“So who asked who out?” Mark’s mom asked curiously as she filled up your glass with more water. “How did this happen?”

“What?” 

“I asked her first,” Mark replied almost easily. “I think I always knew I liked her but I just took too long to ask so eventually I did it. I stopped by her shop one day and asked her out...and here we are now...” He gave you a shy smile before averting his gaze back to his plate and suddenly you felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Mark was awfully good at lying, even to his parents. 

As you prepared to leave after dinner, Mark’s mom approached the both of you with a shoebox.

“I meant to show this to you guys before, but I guess it makes more sense to give it to you now,” she explained as she opened the box. “I’m sure there are some pictures here that you’ve never seen before. Take a look through them! I’m going to pack you guys food to take home.”

Waves of nostalgia rushed over you as you rifled through the photos. Your college graduation. Your high school graduation. Mark and your family wearing matching shirts with your face on it for your volleyball senior night. You and your friends rushing the court to hug Mark for making the winning full-court shot at his basketball game. You and Mark on your first day of high school, in which you were standing a good five inches from each other and wore forced smiles to please your mothers. You with your cake on your 13th birthday—you wearing a forced smile because the picture was taken after Mark told Jackson about your crush (but you noted that Mark seemed to have a pleased smile in it.) A day when your parents took you both ice skating. A day when your parents took you on a picnic. 

“Aww, look at this one!” Mark chuckled as he held up a picture to you. “We’re probably like five here?”

It was a picture of the two of on your doorstep getting ready to trick-or-treat on Halloween. With big smiles and even bigger jackolantern buckets, you were wearing matching basketball jerseys and matching bunny ears.

You let out a laugh. “Oh my god, we were obsessed with Space Jam.”

“It was the trend back then!” Mark asserted, meeting your grin. “And look at you, you were so cute.” 

You sneered. “Yeah, I wonder what happened.”

“You became the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Before you could even try to think of a reply, Mark’s mom had come back to the living room with bags of leftovers. You soon after said your goodbyes and Mark drove you home without incident, though his words echoed in your head the whole way through.

The weird feeling you felt in your stomach was still there as he gave you his kind smile and bid you good night.

What was it about that smile?

——

Mark was acting kind of weird tonight.

Your third party (but probably 50th sighting overall) as a couple, you no longer felt so awkward about keeping up the act. There were still a few admirers who clung onto the hope that Mark may return their feelings, so you learned to get used to the frequent back hugs and forehead kisses.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but it actually felt kind of nice to be held.

You liked to think that people saw you as the “casual” couple where you still acted like the close friends you were before but with some PDA, but for some reason, tonight Mark was being especially clingy.

It had started when Jaebum introduced you to one of his friends who was also passionate about baking. Mark was off getting drinks for the both of you and catching up with some friends he hadn’t seen in a while. Ecstatic to meet someone who shared the same passions as you, you and Jaebum’s friend quickly went back and forth about everything from different recipes to try out to food trends you’ve noticed recently to dessert Instagram accounts you should follow.

“I don’t know if Jaebum has told you this, but I’m also thinking about opening a business myself and wanted to learn more. Do you think we could exchange numbers and maybe meet up—”

“She’s already busy as it is. Here love, screwdriver just the way you like it.”

Mark handed you your drink with a cool expression you couldn’t quite place before wrapping an arm around your waist. Recovering from the interruption, Jaebum’s friend held out his hand to Mark.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m—”

“Babe, they’re starting a new game of Cranium and want us to join. We better go before Jackson throws a fit.”

Before you could apologize and say goodbye to the guy left hanging in front of you, Mark was already pulling you in the direction of your friends, his grip on your hip growing slightly tighter. 

“Mark! He wanted to ask me about my shop!”

Mark gazed down at you and you couldn’t help but shiver slightly under his cold stare. You never thought his eyes could be so dark. 

“He can just ask Jaebum for your number. Let’s go play.”

Though Mark visibly relaxed as you joined your friends for games, you noticed he was a little touchier with you than usual. He would plant kisses to the back of your hand or your temple whenever you won a turn for your team. His hand was practically glued to your waist, absentmindedly stroking the fabric against it. The only time his hand did leave your waist was when you had to mold something with play-doh for a round and one of Jackson’s friends made a suggestive comment about your hands.

“Wow, Mark’s girl sure has a way with her hands.” 

As soon as your team had correctly guessed what you were creating and you took a seat back on the couch, you found Mark’s hand now resting on your thigh, slightly gripping the flesh. You turned to Mark but he only continued watching the game, paying no mind to your reaction to the sudden new form of contact. Despite the small smile placed on his lips as he watched Yugyeom and Bambam’s antics, you noticed his jaw subtly tighten. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him once the game was over, excusing yourself from the rest of the group to get another drink from the bar. “You’re acting kind of...strange.” You eyes drifted to his free hand now tucking away some hair behind your ears. 

“I’m just being the best fake boyfriend I can be and showing others you’re mine,” Mark shrugged, quickly brushing off your worry like his hand brushing through your hair, though his words caused a small stir in your stomach. “Are you going back to join the group?”

“Nah, that game got way too heated. I need to be away from people for a little bit.” 

“Mind if I join you?” Mark cleared his throat awkwardly before casually leaning against the bar. “You know—I’m just staying by your side at a big party like a good fake boyfriend would, of course.” 

“Mark, just say you’re tired of people too,” you joked, leaning next to him. He slung his arm around your shoulders as you took out your phone and began scrolling through social media. 

You said nothing about his actions, trying to ignore the whisper in the back of your head telling you how his arm felt like it was meant to be there. 

You also tried to ignore the tingles running down your spine as Mark leaned closer to your ear and spoke, busying yourself by engaging in idle conversation about some shoes you saw on Instagram. 

Ignorance became impossible as you suddenly felt Mark bringing you closer to him with the arm already around you, tilting your face towards his. 

And then without warning, he was kissing you.

It was probably from the bottomless screwdrivers you were consuming that night, but at that moment, you found Mark’s lips absolutely intoxicating. All sensible thoughts flew out of your head as he kissed you with a passion you’d never seen in him before, his lips tugging at yours softly yet with hunger. His free hand slid down to your waist to pull you closer, closing the gap left between your bodies. Feeling his tongue brush slightly against your bottom lip before dancing with yours, you knew your knees would have given out beneath you if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. With every peck against your lips, the same voice you had been ignoring in your head now whispered “please don’t stop.”

When he finally pulled away for air, his face still a mere few inches from yours, you let yourself believe for a second that Mark was gazing at you with all the adoration his eyes could muster, too real to fake. 

But then you remembered it was all fake and although prohibition of kisses on the lips weren’t explicitly stated in your rules, it was still something you both never considered doing. So you voiced your confusion to him, knowing very well that whatever prompted the kiss had to be serious. 

Mark smiled shyly, stumbling out a response while his eyes traveled elsewhere. You followed his gaze, instantly feeling your heart drop into your stomach when you realized it was serious.

There she was, glaring at you with the same disdain as when she used to pick Mark up from your place for dates. 

You glanced up at Mark and noticed him stare back blankly, seemingly frozen under her gaze just like you were. 

“Oh.”

Mark proceeded to apologize for the sudden attack but you just brushed it off. 

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for.” 

Really you were just trying to brush off the feeling of his kiss burned into your brain. 

It remained branded there when Mark drove you home that night. As he steered through the darkness, Mark chatted amiably with you about something funny that happened with one of his patients the other day, as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most mind-blowing kisses in the world an hour ago. If he noticed your lack of reciprocation in the conversation—your responses limited to “oh really?” or “damn, that’s crazy”—he didn’t say anything about it. 

As he pulled up in front of your building, he gave you the same bashful expression he held when he pulled away from your lips. 

“Sorry, again, for...you know—”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, unknowingly holding a breath in an attempt at nonchalance. “I understand.”

It was just a kiss for show, nothing else.

Mark gave you a relieved smile. “Good night. Thank you again.” As you were about to open your door, Mark leaned towards you and pecked you on the cheek. 

Your hand froze on the handle. “W-what was that for?”

Mark looked at you in confusion before the absence of an audience dawned on him. “Sorry. Habit, I guess?” He gave an awkward chuckle.

You laughed nervously in response. “Well, good night Mark.” 

And by good night, you meant good bye.

——

It was a full week until you saw Mark again. 

You were getting ready to close up, bidding good night to your employees as you cleaned the espresso machine when the front door jingled open again.

“Sorry, we’re closi—”

“I did it!” Mark approached you at the counter with the biggest smile on his face. Whatever the cause, he may as well have won the lottery. “I finally confronted her!”

“Wait, what?” Quickly getting over the shock from seeing him, you paused your motions to give Mark your full attention. “What happened?”

He let out a contented laugh, not knowing where to start. “Well actually, she was the one who wanted to see me first. Jinyoung said that she was waiting for me to finish my shift, so I figured I’d settle this once and for all. So I go and see her when I’m done and she just has the sorriest look on her face, but we both know that anyone can see right through her, right? But I don’t say anything about it and I just let her say her piece, and she goes into this sob story about how when she saw us at the party—by the way, remind me to kill Bambam for inviting her, he really thought we were on ‘good terms,’ oh please—but yeah, when she saw us at the party, it totally ‘broke her’ and she admits that she made a mistake and if she could redo it all over again, she would have never cheated. And then she went on to saying how she hopes we could get back together again because she misses me and promises to be better to me and blah blah blah.” Mark finished with a mock gag. 

You blinked. “...And then what happened?”

He looked at you with a self-satisfied smirk. “In the end, I thanked her. I thanked her for ending things because I finally got to see her for who she really was—a lying witch who thought of no one else’s feelings but her own. Then I kindly told her to stay away from me and my friends unless she wanted things to turn ugly really fast.”

“Wow Mark...sounds like you really got over your fear of confrontation. Congrats...” You wanted to say more, but all you think about was how soft his lips looked today.

“Yeah, so I thought I’d come over today since I have some time and you’re closing up. What are you feeling for dinner? We’re celebrating.”

“What?” You realized he wasn’t asking if he could take you out but it was already assumed.

Mark nodded. “I owe you remember? I wouldn’t have been able to get her off my back if it weren’t for you. You also haven’t responded to any of my texts this week asking if you wanted to do dinner, so I for sure need to treat you tonight.”

“Right...”

“And we just need to catch up. I haven’t spoken to you in a week. What have I missed?”

You grimaced slightly to yourself. So he had noticed your silence.

“Mark,” you sighed, moving around the counter so you were standing next to him. Now was probably the right time to talk about this before the little courage you possessed completely slipped away from you. “You don’t need to treat me to dinner anymore.”

He looked at you with a perplexed expression. “What do you mean? But I owe—”

“You don’t owe me anything anymore,” you say with a sad smile. “You got what you wanted. You finally got her off your back and I’m pretty sure all of your admirers know not to even try anymore. It’s done.”

His lips quirked thoughtfully. “So you’re saying—”

“—that there’s no point in fake dating anymore.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Unable to read his expression amid the newfound uncomfortable silence, you moved to go back behind the counter, ready to mumble an excuse about how you were tired and could do dinner another time when you felt him tug you back by the arm.

“Then I guess now I can start taking you on real proper dates.”

You stared at his hold on your arm before averting your gaze to his face, scanning his expression for any sign of insincerity. His eyes held a certain fondness towards you, falsity nowhere in sight. 

“Wait, are you saying—”

Mark let out an amused chuckle at your confusion matching his earlier. “I guess you haven’t noticed yet, but then again, you were never one to pick up on what’s right in front of you, much less subtle hints.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know—”

“I’ll have you know that I have completely fallen for you and there’s no way I’m getting back up.”

As your eyes grew wider at the confession, so did Mark’s grin at your expression.

So cute.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“B-but it was just for show and we’ve always just been friends—I didn’t think-I just thought—but you were so good at acting—was that why at the party...you were being weird—”

“Some guys were trying to hit on you and I had to let them know who you belonged to,” Mark answered easily with a smirk, clearly enjoying watching your mind short-circuit before him.

“But then that kiss—”

“—only made me realize that I wished I kissed you sooner.” 

You stared at Mark for a moment, completely at a loss for words and ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks. Mark might as well have been speaking to you in a foreign language—nothing coming out of his mouth was making sense.

“Mark, I swear if you’re joking around right now...if you’re joking, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’m only joking if you don’t feel the same way about me,” Mark confessed, his smirk reverting back to the shy smile you knew all too well. “But I really hope you do because I’m crazy about you and being your fake boyfriend for over a month only confirmed how much I want to be it for real.”

Mark watched as you chewed on your lip, a habit of yours when you were really think hard about something.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

He gave a resigned nod, looking down at his feet. “I understa—”

“Over dinner. Tonight.” 

His head shot up immediately, smile growing wider by the second. “Really?”

You reached up to his face, playfully patting him on the cheek. “You owe me, remember?”

Mark nodded in excitement before shooting you a wink. 

“Whatever you say, babe.”

You inwardly groaned and rolled your eyes. “I told you I hated pet names, yet you still do it.”

Before you could walk away in mock disgust, Mark quickly pulled you back again, your face instantly landing on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your back.

“Because you let me.”

As you looked up and received a surprise kiss to your nose from Mark, you realized you would let him for the rest of your life.

——

[chrisbangs]

so i guess i could type like a practical person for once……. maybe………. but i probably won’t so i apologize ahead of time……… anyway, so i hit? 1k…..? after remaking only 3 months ago... to me that’s pretty crazy because as a lot of my older mutuals will know, i remake like every 0.38 seconds because i’m annoying like that… to the people who’ve been here since forever (you know who you are) it means a lot that you’ve stuck with me through blog type changes (there’s like 1 or 2 of you who’ve just been around since The Beginning and wowza thank you for dealing with me like that ifnawoeiawoef)!!! and to the people who i’ve only recently become mutuals with i apologize cause at any second i will probably be like hee honk time to remake. to all of you, mutuals and followers, thank you for dealing with my stupid lame text posts about chan or my crazy ‘content creators deserve better’ campaigns!! thank you for interacting with me through dms, asks, even just liking my posts and being kind to me when i’m down- i really appreciate that. i’ve been using tumblr for a very, very long time, and tbh, i feel like its not until recently that i’ve found a group of people that i feel very comfortable and happy around. you guys are all so talented and funny and warm and friendly, and i’m so thankful for you guys in my life! thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of your dash !!! i’m really grateful if you’ve ever enjoyed my content (gifs, gfx, etc.) and i hope i can continue to make your dashes and hearts bright whether it be through content or my stupid dumb (i hope funny) tags! i love you all!

(( if theres a 🖤 next to your name!! i’ve left a little message for you under the cut ;; v ;; !!! i hope you know how much i love and appreciate all of you! (i really didn’t proof read these so like… u know… just…….. i apologize foawinefoiwna) ))

@00hj 🖤, @1095, @19gf, @3rachha, @angelhyunjin​ 🖤, @binnieseason​, @binsungz​ 🖤, @boxerminho​, @changbeanie​, @chimneycloud​, @cosmicskz​ 🖤, @dhalfmoonbydean​, @f1owerlix​ 🖤, @huiracha​, @ilovedowoon​, @jedixuxi​ 🖤, @jinlix​ 🖤, @jisquish​ 🖤, @johfam​ 🖤, @kim-seungmins​ 🖤, @kim-woojins​, @kimwuujin​ 🖤, @kqngyounghyun​ 🖤, @luvknow​, @marriael​, @momowlw​, @mydays​, @noairmv​ 🖤, @naekkung​, @parkjinwoo​, @prodskz​ 🖤, @pouringmv​, @realstraykids​, @seofthours​, @seungminsmile​, @soohao​, @sk-z​ 🖤, @skzbffie​, @skzd​ 🖤, @stray-kids​, @straykisd​, @theminho​ 🖤, @uayv​ 🖤, @ultscb​ 🖤, @wayvgf​ 🖤, @yngbok​

@00hj​: hello karen! wow :( it feels like forever since we’ve been mutual… like i really cannot believe it’s been??? 7/8 months since we first became friends? like it doesn’t even feel that long. i know time flies and we’re at that point in our lives where every day just flashes by but :( even in those moments that do pass by, you’re always there making me smile. through your killer content or your funny jokes or those convos where we’re both just yelling abt how much we HATE group projects… its all fun :( you always make me smile and make me want to work harder. when i see how hard you work??? it just makes me want to work /that/ much harder. from your gfx to your gifs!! you are a pillar in this community and i am so honoured to be pals with u man faionwefoaie !!! to top that off, i feel like i can always ask you anything- any dumb questions i have abt making things, anything that’s just kinda eating at me, i feel like i can talk to you about it. you’re such a comfy place !! a comfy warm person !! and i love you dearly! i hope you get to kick back with jisung and hyunjin and enjoy a slice of pie!!

@angelhyunjin​: hello angi! my darling you work so so so hard! your art is always stellar and always wowing! i know sometimes you worry about posting, but please remember to put your health first;; its hard to think about yourself sometimes, i know, but remind yourself that !! to make smth nice, you need to be well first!!! anyway;; your art never fails to make me smile. like your style is sososo distinct and memorable?? and also?? you’re an amazing dancer!!! your covers are always so lovely and you do such a great job :( i can tell how passionate you are about things through both your art and your dance! thank you for always working hard and being kind to everyone around you! i love you dearly angel! hyunjin is sending his love!

@binsungz​: yooooo whaTS UP HOMIE FIAWNOFANWFO HELLO BABY!! MY WHORE PARTNER!!!!!!!! MY GIRL!!!!!!!!! literally what do i even say here that i haven’t already said to you??? you’re one of my closest friends online and you ALWAYS make me laugh. from talking abt nsfw things to cute things to minecraft and gaming!!! you always always get me !!! you just have a knack for understanding me?? and that’s just :( so appreciated!!!! you !!! are !!! amazing dude!!! ur gifs are always so clean; you’re one of the reasons i started working harder to make my gifs better bc you inspired me !! you’re always so kind and warm and loving ; and i can always talk with you abt sucking dicks or eating pussy like IT REALLY DO BE LIKE THAT !!!!!!!!! i was going through my old blog and i found those videos you did where you looked through my blog and when i heard your voice again and you being like ‘omg ur so funny’ i was ready to scream cause it was still so fuiowenaowieaoe fricking cute :(((( dude I LOVE YOU!!!! like you really are one of the kindest people in the world and i can’t stop !! saying !! how thankful!!! i am for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love you so much britt !! thank you for always dealing with me and being kind to me and just fjaoweifnaow you’re really the best :((( jisung and [redacted] love u but not as much as me ok foaiwneoaiwnfia ……..

@cosmicskz​: hello gumdrop!!! my love!!! thank you so much for always hyping – not just me- but everyone up!! you are sososo kind and so so so SO warm and cute and oawifenawo precious!!! please remember to take care of your health and of yourself too!! loving everyone around u is important but also take care of yourself TT TT !!! your content is also always so cute and thoughtful and you put 110% into everything you do ????? like !!!!!!!!  ma’am????? so talented and pure ;; ___ ;; like i don’t know how you do it but you do !!! also thank you for ALWAYS offering to look @ my work and give me advice etc etc!! i am so appreciative of it ;; also – i know i don’t always reply that often but !!!!!!!!!!!! i love you and i’m thankful that you’re so patient with me when it comes to dms fjaowiefnawoiefn TT TT you’re ! so ! lovely and sweet and i hope you know !! i’m here for you whenever you need !!! skz and i lovelovelove you!

@f1owerlix​: vale……….. vale………………. VALE……………………………. HELLO…………………. ??? i ??? can’t even find the words to tell you what you mean to me. i’d write a poem but its just gonna end up being long and i’d never be able to finish it bc i’d go back and keep adding bits and lines abt how you’re like the NICEST person in humanities history and that you’re just an all-around talented and wonderful person….. like….. are u KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!!!! she did that (that = being the kindest person EVER) you’re always using The Most amount of nicknames possible;; and it makes my heart so so so soft. not only that, but you’re also such a kind, genuine, warm person. i don’t know anyone who is as kind, and humble, and talented, and warm like you. i literally could list a billion wonderful things about you because you’re that frucaowienoawikingiawgo amazing…. dude like seriously…. we out here STANNING miss vale….. i was going through my blog a while ago and i saw this tag that was like ‘i got my vale fansite set up and we’re going to start making slogans and planning birthday events’ like past li had it right. you’re so kind and funny and warm and i always feel safe and comfy talking to you. i really appreciate the feedback you give me- because its always so thought out and GENUINE. like… you do this for EVERYONE… all the tags i read from you are so KIND and you always make ccs feel like they’re doing the best job ever…. like you really……. you really are an angel on this ea.rth…. huh….. also…? changbin is dropping by with flowers for you!!!!

@jedixuxi​: hello angel;; i hope you’re doing well!!! thank you for dealing with my blog change and staying mutuals with me regardless of content differing! thank you for always being kind and being patient with me- i know i don’t reply a lot but ;; you are a really good friend to me and i am so so so thankful;; you’re so sweet and warm and such a talented artist;; like everything you draw im always like fjawifeawoej :0000 !!!!! you really have so much love and warmth inside of you and !!! that’s why ur so tall ma’am.. foawiefnoaweifno :’( aaaa thank you so much beth for always being so warm to others; your brightness is like the sun on my dash and in my dms and you always make me smile or laugh its just ;; aofwienaiwneoi I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! and xuxi is also mailing his entire heart your way ok !!!

@jinlix​: hello madam ! hello to my lov e !!! my sweet lil gum drop !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hello KELLY!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my gosh hi bb :( thank you for everything you do; firstly, your gfx?? so incredible ok?? like i know your style immediately when i see it yet you always manage to surprise me?? like your work is so fucking GOOD. how does she do it :// like us plebeians will never kno and that’s how it fuckin be ig afoiwneoaiwnfeoawi ….. omg…. ok…. and like secondly??? youre always so humble and kind to other ppl??? like your tags on anyones work is always so so so so kind TT TT you always say the nicest things- and i still remember the tags you left on one of my very first skz gfxs … like you really made my heart flutter like that huh….. hm…. guess you’re an angel or smth like… that…. gmgamoweigna TT __ TT Kelly seriously you’re such a sweet heart? you love with all your heart and its so warm and soft and whenever you talk abt hyunjin im like jfjfaiweIFAIWo …. my heart !!!!!!!!!!! like he would totally be floored by your love bc of how soft u fuckin are oh ymgmymmym go d !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway :( i love u so much and hope you’re well angel!! hyunjin is sending all his love your way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@jisquish​: ok here we go … ma’am… MA’AM… how do i even EXPLAIN the love i feel for u.. oh my gosh.. miss india.. you really exist like that.. like we STAN a whole ass legend huh… not only are you funny and smart and talented and kind and amazing?? you’re also just like.. the coolest bestest person in the world? like i still find it hard to believe you were one of my anons bc like… u just.. u r too … ://// cool… like i’m really just sitting here like… an idiot… from day 1 you’ve always been so fucking kind to me !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you have just :( been so sweet and kind and just an all-around angel- and even if we only talk every now and then, i always feel so warm and happy whenever we do!! u know those ppl u don’t have to talk to 24/7 to know that there’s still a warm friendly hug waiting for you??? :(( yea you’re one of those people. you always always ALWAYS make me laugh like hfawoifenoawie :( hello how do u do this?? yet you also are so grounded and warm and understanding and like.. i can’t believe you’re also one of the most talented humans ever;; whenever i see your covers, i’m always like !!! wowowowo !!! you inspire me to work harder with my music and writing ;; you are such an angel :-( and i am so thankful for you! so so so so thankful!!! jeongin and changbin and jisung are sending all their love !!! and so am i bb !!!

@johfam​: if anyone deserves a thank you- it is you. miss nita… jejejsigaweg i feel like i’m gonna cry typing this so here we go…. you’ve been friends with me for more than a year now i believe :( i think we’ve actually hit our year since we became friends which is so wild to me?? you’ve been with me through SO MANY THINGS… like you’ve been my soundboard for so many things in my life.. i can’t believe we started talking bc a spider landed on your hand… and u stabbed ur own hand with a pencil.. like ig we have to thank that spider….. ghanwegoiawen….. you’ve really stuck with me through blog changes and through me being angry abt things and you’ve allowed me to be angry- which i appreciate so much.. you know me so well :// like… idk how you do it but you always make me feel safe and warm and like i can say anything to you and you’ll hear me out?? like oaiwnefaiwenof :( you just !! you’ve supported me so much through so many bad days and i can’t thank you enough. you are made of sunshine and stardust and your heart is literally the softest and warmest. thank you !!! for !!! always enjoying frogs with me and sending me cute frog things.. like.. :( it makes me SO happy that we can enjoy those lil squishy fuckers together.. also thank u for being my source of johnny content jfjawfieawio i’ve literally unfollowed every other nct blog and you’re one of the only ones left bc i still love johnny so much and seeing him on my dash- esp with your tags- makes me so so so happy;; thank you for everything you’ve done for me and !!! and for all the love you’ve given me :( and just for being there for me through some of the toughest places in my life;; i really love and appreciate you!!!!!!!!! johnny is sending his love and some kisses through the mail :’(

@kim-seungmins​: hfhawefaniow…………… hello dumm..y… :( u r the loml.. you’ve been there for me through so much shit in the short amt of the time we’ve been friends.. u were also one of my first friends in this fandom- and i’m so thankful you were bc we got really close during these last few months and it makes me so happy. you’re so funny and you always make me laugh!!! you give me so much confidence and happiness and you make me feel so warm and happy ;; !!!!!! you are a fajfowienawei whole ass angel who is always working hard both to make good content and in school. :( i’m so proud of you for all that you do dude like wowowwowo :( look @ you go ????? you’re also one of the funniest pals i have like u literally make me bust a LUNG laughing … like whenever i get any of my biases together in one screen i now literally think, without even pause, “abia voice: crumbs” likej faweiojaowefoi you’re such an icon!!!!!!!!! also?? like … you’ve just been s o kind to me and helped me with things that i’ve not talked to others with bc you never make me feel like i’ll be judged… like.. you’re so fucking understanding and warm and kind and considerate with how you reply; you always care and you’re just… :( u r angel or smth like that… i know i tease you and that’s kinda how i show my love but for real dude………………. i love u so much.. like if i could give you the whole world i really fucking would.. :( because you deserve nothing less!! thank u for always providing that good good seungmin content ;; seungmin and minho and woojin all told me to tell you that they love you!!!

@kimwuujin​: hello sugar drop!! thank you for being so kind and warm and always just !!! being so sweet :( you always tag me in funny/cute content and it’s always appreciated !!! i feel like i can always be dumb and say stupid soft things abt chan with you bc you’ll understand how i feel :((( you’re so sweet and i’m so glad we started talking more !! you’re not only like faoiwenfaowi incredibly cute and sweet but you’re also so so so so funny !!! :( like you make me laugh and aofwinewaoinoi i really appreciate that!! you’re also so grounded and understanding and !! you always know what to say and i’m really appreciative of the fact that you phrase things so well and eloquently- when will my dumbass ever- anyway fhawjeofaowein i love you with all my heart and hope you’re !! doing well sweetpea !!! chan and are yeeting every ounce of love we have for you to you!!!!!!!!!!!

@kqngyounghyun​: hello my love :( i can’t even remember the first time we talked bc it feels like its been so so so long; and through all of this time you’ve been one of my close friends who’s stuck around with me through so much. you’re always there, and always kind, and just always warm and friendly and a safe place to go. i love that we can bitch abt things with each other but also oiawenfowaie be super soft… but then also talk abt super nsfw things jfawieaoeif aofiwneoai you’ve always been so so kind to me and i really do appreciate it. thank you for sticking with me through all my blog changes and for always supporting me and my dumbassery;; i really hope you know how much i appreciate you and how much i love you! you’re such a hardworking person- like whenever you tell me abt the effort you’re putting in at school its just oifnawiefnaoi wowowow!!! you’re so amazing :(( !!!!! also, you were there for me during one of the Hardest Points In My Life- like a time when i really thought i was going to ofaiwneoiawen lose my mind bc of how much i was struggling……. but you seriously helped me get through that part of my life and i can never fully explain to you how thankful i am. but i love you so much and i’m so thankful. younghyun and i both love you to the ends of the earth ;; __ ;; !!!

@noairmv​: hello ! ! ! miss ai!! the loml!!! angel!! bb gumdrop!! jacob’s baby!!! all names we can use to refer to you!!! :( hello baby!! thankyou! for everything! for all you do! for all you are! you are always honest with me, always genuine, always kind and understanding. you do more than i could ever fucking ask for. i’ve told this to you before but, i think you’re the one person i can go to- without fail- for like.. real life advice… like things that i feel like i cannot ask anyone else, i can ask you. i remember when i was struggling financially i immediately went to you first to talk things through. you give me a lot of clarity and you help me understand my own thoughts and talking to you always puts things into perspective for me. you’re also always there to rant abt nsfw things with which is foaiwnefoaiwn so fun afnowienfao afjfaowefiao but also i get to be super soft with you which is also really :~( the best oof……… i love u so much…….. like, thank you for always looking @ my gfxs, and for always being supportive and understanding and giving me genuine advice. i love listening to you talk abt Jacob (and being rawed by others who are not … Jacob………… ahem………) aofiwnefoaiwno thank you for always being patient with me and for being so kind (and for always faowineoawi saying yes when i propOSE FAOIWNOAIWF ;;) you’re an angel (hee honk) from above and i will always be thankful for you in my life angel bean :( thank you so much for everything ai, i love you SO fucking much… jacob also loves u – he told me to tell u that !!!

@prodskz​: hello my love! ! ! ! i think i told you this once but!! my favourite kinds of relationships are those ones that have a good roast/love ratio!!! and i deeply feel that ours is that kinda relationship!!! no matter how many times we destroy each other aoiwnafienaiowe we’re always like ‘uwu anyway u r my baby’ 2 seconds later and foawinefoiane i love that!!! i love that you will send me 20 messages in a day and i’ll be like yoiNk i forgot but also let me reply to everything at once !! i love that you send me SO many skz memes throughout the day- they make me laugh so hard;; and also you always send me The Best Chan Pics so thank you for that fiawfenfoawienoiwe TT TT you’ve been so kind to me and so so so supportive of all my work ;; whether my gifs or my gfx or just my stupid posts- you are so supportive neha i :( i don’t even deserve the amt of love you give me but fjawoefawoe i ACCEPT ALL OF IT !!!!!!!!!! i’m such a dummy but please know that i love you WITH ALL MY FUCKIN HEART BABY!!!! you are so precious and talented and kind and funny and you are amazing !! like i mean it :( do not !! forget for a second how wonderful you are baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hyunjin would like to also remind you that he loves you to the moon and back (but i love u more ok)

@sk-z​: hi sweet pea !!! :’) i know we only started talking very recently but i already feel so close to you! i just wanted to say thank you for being there for me that night aofinweoianfew and thank you for always being a voice of reason; you’re so understanding and warm and !!! i really am floored but how kind you are!! i know i always say sorry and that’s ifonaweifnaio really just how i am but !! you really make me comfy and it feels easy to just say anything around you and not feel stressed out or judged?? like even things that i blame myself for, you help me see reason and feel better and i just :( i can’t thank you enough for that;; you’re so bright and warm and i really hope we get to continue talking for a long time angel!! i love you!!!

@skzd​: hi haleigh !! i know we haven’t talked in a while but you’re still one of my fav content creators!! even from back when i was an nctzen and we interacted there, to now over on these blogs!!! you’ve stayed such a constant in my life :( and you’ve honestly been nothing but supportive of me :( you’re always so kind whenever we do talk and you’re still one of the funniest people i know;; your tags will never fail to make me laugh;; i really appreciate your presence on my dash and i really want you to know all your content is so beautiful and appreciated;; :( you’re so talented my dude and i love you long time;; i really hope you’re doing well and taking care bc i do love you from the bottom of my heart angel!!! hyunjin is sending his love (and so am i !)

@theminho​: min my little gumdrop!! my sweet sugar bean!! my lil soft angel!!!!!!! hi angel!! :( darn i think you’re one of the ppl i’ve been following longest and oof… OOF.. like :( !! i’m so glad we started talking!! you always make me smile! you are so warm and thoughtful with your words. i’m not sure i know anyone who is as eloquent or as understanding as you. you just.. you really phrase things well. whenever we talk i !! i feel so grounded and like i know oafiwenoaw what you’re saying!! and you’re always so sweet and funny and expressive with what you say :( dude you’re just amazing ok!! and your gifs are always so so so beautiful like… omg…. WOW…. an angel huh TT TT ;; whenever i see your gifs or your tags i’m always so soft!! i’m so proud of you for working hard at school, and though i miss you!! i hope you’re spending your time resting when you get a chance and that school isn’t kicking your butt too much my love!!! i am so proud of you TT TT and i’m sending all my ‘fightings!!!’ and strength your way angel bean!!!! minho is also sending his love and energy!!!

@uayv​: hi darling!!! miss joyce! miss gfx queen! oh my goodness;; first of all- thank you for the BOMB ass content dude… your gfx… wowowowwo..w… secondly, thank you for sticking with me through a drastic blog change;; faoiwenfoaw i’m so glad that we’re still pals bc you’re one of those people that makes me laugh so hard from just your tags alone- and in dms i usually can’t stop smiling/laughing;; aoiwenfoiawenwa !!!!!! listen to me !!!!! the first time i found your blog was bc u rb’d one of my gfxs and left some of the nicest tags ever and i saw you had ‘gfx’ tagged in your bio so when i scrolled through your gfx and i was eMBARRASSED BC LIKE………… DUDE HOLY SHIT THIS PERSON HAD SOME OF THE BEST WORK I’D E V E R SEEN. i still think you are one of the MOST TALENTED GFX MAKERS EVER. you have so much of my respect and love and i wish i could aowiefnoawiefn give you … the whole world dude… awenfiawfeowia TT TT you are so kind to me whenever i ask for a second opinion on my gfx and you’re always so warm and funny- and your love for bread is so good- like i’m telling you whenever i see bread posts that aren’t from you i IMMEDIATELY either tag you or send them to you fawienoawien ;; you’re such a warm positive influence on my dash and in my life and i really love you from the bottom of my heart. i’m so thankful we’re pals bc you are a true angel and a true pal and just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAA I LOVE U SO MUCH JOYCE OIANWFOIAWN TT TT (doyoung loves you loads too okay; he is sending big fat kisses ur way!)

@ultscb​: hi taryn!!! miss gif queen;; faoiwenfaown holy moly; you are such a talented person- but not only are you amazing at giffing ?? you’re also just ??? an amazing warm funny kind beautiful person??? like afnoiwnefowaienof hello?? you’re somehow always making me smile; whenever we talk or through your tags?? you’re just !! so !! lovely and fantastic and i!!!! really do love you!!! you’ve been so kind and warm to me and made me smile so much even if we don’t talk that often;; you always give me such kind feedback when you look at my work and it really foanwifeanwoe blows my ego into another dimension fanoweinaowienfao i love you so much angel!!! i hope you know that you’re an amazing and talented and funny and wonderful person! changbin is sending kisses !! (and so am i!!)

@wayvgf​: hi mara baby!!!!! :0 you are such a bright personality, whenever you’re excited ofiawneofai you’ll make like fawoniewi a bunch of posts back to back with 0 context and idk why that makes me laugh and feel so warm and happy- but the thought that someone who is so warm and bright exists really makes me so happy!!! you are literally the funniest and cutest person i’ve ever !! met !! you are so kind and warm and funny and idk man :(( you’ve just been very kind to me and listened to me rant abt some very dumb stuff faoiwnefoaiwne TT TT thank you for always dealing with that side of me, and for being so kind to me;; i know i always say this but : your nose is… really… afwioenaofiawoifwa the pinnacle of noses ok. u r s o cute :( and whenever i’m like “I LOVE MARA DOT ORG” i mean it !!! i love you SO much!!!!!!!!!!! you are such a fantastic, funny, hard working person and i love you SO much bb !!!!! hyunjin also loves u but :/  i love u mos t.

[filisaceaf]

oof ok i have a lot so you can choose (phan aus for the headcanons ask): detective au (one or both of them), au where dan is still a fan/never met phil in 2009, supernatural au (one of them is not human), x-men-type mutants au, hogwarts au (i had to :p)

You wanted only one AU you said? I’m sorry, Phan is my hyperfocus of the month so it looks like you win the headcannons of 3/5 the AUs and you know what? I’m not even sorry my homie.

This is long so I threw it under a cut.

Detective AU

1. Okay so, one would think Dan is the detective with his charming good looks who could get him into locations easily and charm people but Phil is actually a great detective because even though he’s tall, he just lives his life wanting to help people find something lost or someone missing or make sure people are not being unfairly treated. Dan is more his handler, part secretary (look someone needs to make sense of Phil’s notes, file them in a way that makes sense and is easily accessible to other people, and make sure Phil doesn’t overwork himself into a migraine like he has the past three weeks) and part paralegal at Phil’s little detective agency. He is very protective of his boss.

2. Phil loves being a detective. He doesn’t like to “spill tea” on clients like some people like to think he does, but he likes helping 80 year old women who were robbed get their wedding rings back or help someone find their missing child (he wishes those cases turned out a lot better than they usually do, but at the very least he helps people begin to grieve). He likes helping find justice and is actually pretty particular about what cases he’ll take. He hates doing cases about people thinking their spouses are cheating and really he does those if he’s desperate to make sure that he can pay Dan and his bills.

3. You can pry this one from my cold dead hands but Phil definitely has a corgi named Watson that he likes to dress up in plaid. Watson comes to the office with Phil because of long hours and has a little bed under Phil’s obnoxiously large desk that he bought specifically so he could have a bed for Watson there. Phil likes to pretend he’s hurt by Watson also curling up under Dan’s desk (but really he just goes soft for Dan’s voice going high pitched and “hello Watson”).

4. Dan is not a lawyer in the AU, but he did complete a paralegal program! As a paralegal, Dan can do legal research for anyone, but usually he does it for any jobs Phil did that end up needing to go to court. He can also draft legal documents and is also a notary; he just can’t legally represent anyone in court. Dan likes to joke that he is a slacker to the fact that “I’m a lawyer, but the bare minimum of one”. They met at college when Phil was in his last year of majoring in criminal justice and media studies and Dan was still on the track to wanting to be a lawyer. He took a gap (period) of years, had an existential crisis, became better friends with Phil during that time. Phil originally started his detective agency with another partner and when they left, Dan took over the secretarial side of things. It took him a few years, but he eventually went back to school to finish his paralegal certificate and Phil cheered the loudest at his graduation ceremony.

5. I don’t know how these two get together in the AU, but just know it is a slow burn. Like literal years and months and eons of mutual pining with them taking Watson on walks and late nights at the office and shared coffee runs and Dan always being scared Phil is going to do something super dangerous for his health like climb in a vent or park to close to a gangster’s house and get shot. After they get together, they do agree that Dan should get a another job because working together and living together with Phil’s unpredictable schedule was causing some fights for a long period of time (because they didn’t live together before this point). Dan does still stop by pretty often and double check the secretaries work and curl up in the corner of the sofa of Phil’s office (“Dan’s sofa crease” Phil affectionately calls it) and work on stuff for his other job at a nonprofit for mental health awareness.

Dan is a Fanboy and Literally the Biggest Philly AU (The barely alternate timeline tbh)

1. So, this is literally always my favorite kind of AU and I have a lot of soft feelings about these boys always managing to find each other somehow. But yes, Dan got discouraged after the like 100th time of subtweeting Phil and commenting on his videos and not getting a response, he never reached out to Phil for editing tips. Instead!!! He reaches out to a few other YouTubers years later when he’s going through his existential crisis and he’s like “you know, the last time i was happy was when I on YouTube all the time”. So he takes a gap year in university to try and see if it’s something he likes doing. He was not expecting for his channel to be well received. It takes him ages to figure out the jumpcut thing.

2. Because he never got to know Phil as young as he did, when they first meet at Summer In the City, Dan is actively trying not to lose his shit. Because holy fuck. This is Amazing Phil. This is the guy who he would play in the background while he studied and would donate so much on live streams and upvote and fuck he’s wearing some OG Phil merch with Lion on it. He walks around all day with his jacket zipped up because Phil can’t know he’s a fan; Phil is so smart and creative and funny and god. He’s completely turned upside down when Phil sees him and approaches him because “you’re danny’s snot on fire, right?”

Dan never regretted a username more in HIS LIFE and this exact moment lead to his rebranding months later

3. But they exchanged contact information and eventually did a collab video: Phil is Not on Fire. And they whole time, Dan is trying not to breathe too deep or do anything annoying because he’s in Phil’s bedroom??? His filming area??? His pants are on the floor like two feet away??? And when the tackle happens, Dan hopes he didn’t get a concussion and hallucinated the whole thing because Phil is warm and grinning at him with his tongue sticking out and holy shit, this is better than any video, gif, screen redraw, anything. Seeing it up close??? 

4. Phil doesn’t even notice Dan’s a fan until him and Jimmy do a ‘What’s in my tumblr tag?’ and Dan’s blog comes up with some Phil gif reblogs from back in the day and Phil just messages Dan screenshots. Dan is mortified. He’s going to delete his tumblr. He’s not Tyler (not that Tyler is bad, they’ve messaged a few times, but Dan’s not a /fanboy/ ((lmao he is))). Phil just giggles on the video and says that Dan is such a nice guy. Kind of. Definitely cheats at Mario Kart. Dan is literally going to die, this is the second best day of his life

5.They get together when they are both traveling for Playlist Live and they hook up at a party one of the nights there. Dan would be mortified if he didn’t wake up and Phil was still there. He didn’t take off in the middle of the night; he’s wrapped around Phil and Phil is mumbling under his breath about how Dan needs to stop moving and just sleep. Their coming out video is on Dan’s Channel and is Titled “I’m still #1 phil trash” which is a throw back to a privated video called “#1 phil trash” where it’s Dan talking about how talented and funny and inspirational Phil Lester is for six minutes because someone had asked him on Formspring who one of his idols was .

Hogwarts AU

1. Phil is from a magical household and his brother is a squib with a banging music career. Maybe it’s latent magic? Either way, Martyn is a sick af dj and Phil loves it when it’s time for summer vacation because he can visit Martyn in London and see some shows (he can’t go every night) or just wander around during the day with Martyn’s girlfriend Cornelia, who graduated from Durmstrang Institute, while Martyn sleeps off a late night show. Martyn being a Squib leads him to take Muggle Studies though because he wants to be able to connect with the world Martyn lives in and someday, at the rate technology is expanding, he is going to have to leave the isolating wizarding world. 

2. Dan is from a muggle family and it shows in the tenacious way he fights to be accepted by his fellow Slytherins. Every O on an assignment he gets is validation, because see I belong here, I’m one of you, I may not have families who can trace their magic past Bloody Mary or past the plague, but I am still one of Merlin’ people. He isn’t a braggart though; it’s more of an internal validation until someone asks him for help in a subject. 

3. Phil first really approaches Dan in his second year. He brought a hamster to Hogwarts (look, they’ve gotten relatively relaxed since Harry defeated the Dark Lord and the Peter Pettigrew Incident) and didn’t realize she was pregnant. The hamster had five babies and Phil remembered the lonely looking Slytherin who sat at the back of three of their house’s shared classes and thought “the boy needs a friend” so he gives Dan one of the babies. Dan names her Suki and spends so much time trying to make her happy.

4. Dan and Phil first kiss in Hogsmeade towards the end of their sixth year. Because look, these boys are magical but you can’t expect magic to help them get a clue. But they are sitting one one of the benches in town during early March and sipping Butterbeer and Phil just looks over and knows he has to kiss Dan. It’s a biological need. And it’s a good first kiss, warm and syrupy from the butterbeer.

5. Look I love Phil but I’m 99% sure Phil is someone who splinches when he Apparates. He leaves behind clothes more often than not, but there was one instance he left behind his left hand. Dan is fond, but it definitely explains the 20000 socks just lying around the flat they get after graduating.

[ragethewriter]

Character Question Tag!

Rules:  Pick one of your characters, answer these questions, tag some people <3 I was tagged by @rosecorcoranwrites (thanks homie! <3), and the character I’ve picked is Arcana - the snarky, Hybrid clan mastermind!

~ ~ ~

1) What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

Well, since the Hybrid Clan is a collection of mythical creatures, I had to start with the fact that she’s the kitsune.  I built her character based off her animal traits, the backstory they required, and talents that would reference her myth origin as a trickster entity.

2) Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

YUP.  Firstly, because i wanted the kitsune to be part of the protag-friend-trio, so I had to round her out a bit alongside Talon and Ira.  Secondly, because the Hybrids come in pairs so I had to consider her canon baeeeeeee <3 

3) How did you choose their name?

Well fun fact, Arcana is not actually her name - or rather it’s not a name at all, in her culture.  Djinn’eylah refused to give her daughter a proper name of inheritance, and instead referred to the child as “the arcana”, or “the secret”.  By the time she reached the Hybrid clan, Arcana decided to embrace this title as her “name” and call-sign - as she’d formed an identity around her secrets.  

So TLDR: I needed her (latin) name to be in line with her backstory and her bitch mother.

4) In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

Hnnng oh man so much of it, where to start.  Arcana’s Breed (or one of them) and all the slave-race mess obviously dictated how she was raised - in this case, as a little Fox-Blood gremlin wired into the database of the Scribes and their archives. (She’s essentially her culture’s equivalent of a kid raised on unsupervised internet access.)  There’s also all the world elements that formed the framework of her abusive childhood, her mother’s story, and explanations for why Arcana is the way she is - but that’s a TED talk for another time.

5) Is there any significance behind their hair color?

Yup - platinum blonde goes well with fennec fox ears.  But more importantly: she got it from her mama.

6) Is there any significance behind their eye color?

Also yup: as she did not get it from her mama.  Her eyes are a vibrant violet/indigo/cerulean mix that doesn’t belong on land mammals.

7) Is there any significance behind their height?

Lol yes... the Fox-Bloods have the amusing reputation for being the smallest canine Breed - on par with the Domestics.  Compared to timberwolf behemoths like Caecius, her 5′5 stature is clearly not built for feats of strength.

8) What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

Definitely her sense of dark humor, lazy extroversion, and bravado.  She’s the type that pulls all-nighters in spouts of chaotic genius, socializes like the most idgaf bitch on the block, and flips down her shades to watch the apocalypse.

9) Are they based off of you, in some way?

Heck yeah.  Of all the Hybrids that took bits and pieces of me - she ended up with the biggest share of my personality.  It mostly comes through in her manner of speech.

10) Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Yup.  Though I have discovered a thing or two about other facets of it while writing her.

11) What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

Drawing her GOD DAMN TAILS.  HOLY SHIT.  THERE’S NINE OF THEM.  WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY EVEN DOING??? TOO MUCH, THAT’S WHAT.

12) How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

Well I can’t say anything about canon, yet - but in my head she has a whole future laid out for her, her bae, and all her mischievous little foxy sons! she has five of them send help

13) If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

1) She is self-destructive, self-hating, kindof a bitch, and definitely needs help. 2) ... ask nicely.

14) What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

Her snarky snark and her sailor mouth.

15) What is something about your OC that can make you cry?

The crushing, overwhelming weight of her selfless existential guilt.

16) Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

Yeah, the fact that the coolest part has to happen off-screen.  Maybe I’ll just write side-stories for it.

17) What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

  (✿ʘ‿ʘ)  If I break her thoroughly enough, she is prone to a whole host of unhealthy behaviors.

18) What is your favorite fact about your OC?

She’s part octopus, and that will never not be hilarious to me.

~~~ AND I WILL TAG @authorkimberlygrey , @wingedcatwblr, @siarven, @constantbellpepper , @adiwritings, @callmeweeeh, @sadragons and @creatinmaven !

[getwebbed-a]

i’ve .... i’ve literally been here for like a month ; and there’s 9 0 0 + of you now ??? ngl, it’s really fuckin’ overwhelming. there’s this pressure to portray peter well & all that, & i get anxious every once in a while, but other than that, this is wild !!! everybody came here for one reason or another — i can’t speak for all of you — but this is just absolutely insane. oddly incredible, but insane. i never thought i’d reach monumental milestones like this on an RP blog, but man, here i am. lmao. everybody here loves their characters so much, and everybody i follow are just lovely, supportive folks ? like THANK YOU for being kind, decent human beings. i never feel like i don’t want to be on tumblr bc of the people i follow or the things i see on my dash, so that’s gotta mean something l o l

anyway, i sort of hate doing these bc people may feel left out, but y’know in light of recent events, i’m just gonna do it to spread some love to the people i’ve met since starting this blog that have literally become like ??? a family. a home away from home. it’s gonna be cheesy & i hate cheesy, & i’m never this nice, so like ... fucking CHERISH IT U LIL SHITS. but overall to all my mutuals & followers, a massive thanks for giving me a chance, for welcoming me, for watching my growth from a distance or even if we already talk / do IC things. ok let’s get this show on the road my frens. admire my diminishing desire to write properly.

@fllowershop / @spngld : um ??? holly thank u sm for just being a staple in my daily life. i remember when we followed each other at the start, n i was just this anxious ball bc u were like wAY more established than i was, but u would leave lil comments here n there on my shitposts. n then i finally worked up the courage to talk to u n ur literally like. one of my closest friends on this hell site ?? like bless u. thank u for being there to listen to me rant / talk shit ; i’ll always be there for u if u need a shoulder to lean on. or u can just insult me idc i’ll take whatever i can get

@reddeathed : ok other mom. can u believe ?? we live near each other ??? somewhat. icb we literally have each other’s phone numbers now. talking on the daily. rping on discord. we’re some real trash when it comes to the relationships between connat & then peter & nat. tbh idk why u endure me; maybe it’s just bc u want to rile me up.  (  fuck u btw. )  not literally. n sometimes i know u need a big fat cry n thats ok n if u ever need to talk shit just come to me. i will say out of context things to help. i will be there !! also when holly visits u we’re all gonna go downtown toronto ok that’s official

@pleasureofmyself / @empantis : i was gonna tag scott too but im lazy. anyway like ?? wow yohan !!! i love u !! ur such a good bean, n u play ov.erwatch w me even if u suck bc u play ps4 more often than pc — it’s ok tho bc we both suck in the end n we lose. WE DIE LIKE MEN !! but boi i love talking to u and rping w u !! we got these ongoing inside jokes  ( are they rly inside jokes tho idk i mean eggs amirite  )  that r the greatest things ever n just !!! ur a loser but a good loser. my type of loser u kno what i mean

@notacircusmonkey : MELA !!!! i know sometimes  (  by sometimes i mean that one time  )   i say we get divorced bc u end up saying some A++++ angsty shit n then i get emotional, but !! u r the love of my life ok. like thank u for indulging me w all the s.tony. ur so nice n every time ur gone to take care of uni n rl stuff i miss u, but when u come back, here’s a nice mssg for u to read, right ?? i hope life is treating u well, and that ur birthday was perfect, bc u r just . u deserve it !! if life isn’t doing a good for u then im gonna kICK all that bad aura away from u n make sure u deserve some Good.

@bornsoldier : lmao bronson we’ve literally known each other for like 5 days but bitch ily. i hope those storms pass soon n the sun can come out bc u r like the actual sun. except like, u don’t blind me when i look at u. ur like a dimmed down sun ? ok my analogies n metaphors make no fuckin sense, but like. homie. bro. ur gr8 but never call ur alfredo fettuccine breakfast when it’s past 12pm ok at least call it BRUNCH u uneducated slut  (  sry did i mention i love u ? i do i promise  )

ok this is getting long n im literally running on no energy after being Fucked by work so i’m just gonna end that there for now.

honourable mentions  (  more people i admire or have known for a while prior to this blog in no particular order  )

@elataan , @atimebomb , @hookedcop / @silverstays , @countrylcved , @i-stark , @suitofarmxr , @auntlarb , @rumdaydreams , @iingloriious , @ebvenom , @piraticalwit , @marveliing , @boybcnd , @emeritvspidey , @mercnry , @dieamonster , @chooseboth , @stormwielding , @webwiings , @beastblooded​ , @smaugiiisms

so im sry if i missed anybody but i’m low on energy juice in my body, but if we’re mutuals i p much love u so ya. also thank u to all my followers who aren’t mutuals, bc wow idk what ur sticking around for when there r so many good spideys out there, but !! yeah thank u for all ur love n support n this sounds like some fucking oSCARS SPEECH IM GONNA SHUT UP NOW BYE