#but too many people be speaking on black people..and like nah

[nyasialiveshere]

The Exo critique/ comparison continues more of a kpop/ western cultural overview though

for educational purposes only of course. So many links. I never did this if it doesn't work I'll just do something else..

I believe a lot of my issues with exo and struggling to appreciate their discography like I do other groups I listened to was the lack of personal touch as I once said. I don't believe I'm being negative or whatever but at this point you literally can't even give your opinion without being called weird Korean slang terms by ironically non korean people..who don't usually speak korean..super weird. I just am tired of it. I feel like there's worse things in the world than someone giving their honest opinion but understandable some people feel extremely attached to bands and shows. Which I kind of get somewhat. But like I always do I will try to give as much detail as possible it's my thing on here. Weird opinions central. None of my friends ever//ever ever really wanted to discuss kpop on a deeper level. I was going mad not being able to express myself to anyone cause nobody knows it that deeply. That sucks so for a lot of people it's a stress reliver and it's aesthetic. I completely understand. But to me there's a million people that give kpop praise, or even rude unhinged hate. I'm not that type of person. I try and be as honest as possible and then sometimes I make a funny. This is more for people who like history than people who like kpop. But some people who like kpop like history, theories and deep diving. So I just tag relevant things and if you don't like reading that much..you..don't have to..which is kinda obvious. Also if opinions not harming anyone makes you mad, that's fine, but just don't..freak out. Or do. Idk, it's a free world, but the main reason I talk so much is because I care. I want to live in a world where everyone can express themselves respectfully and intently. That will only happen if we start speaking on things nobody wants to speak on. I try and only talk about confirmed stuff that's free real estate on the internet. So it's not a just trust me bro situation. This is stuff anybody can dig into and if it's my opinion I will make that clear.

If I never branched out and read/watched random documentaries etc I wouldn't know any of this stuff either. Many people spend most of their time scrolling may as well teach something while I'm on here.

WARNING I TALK A LOT..so you already know before I keep going

To me I like to stretch back to this infamous quote because it ties in with what I was talking about with the motown inspirations and such

A Motown alum with many

Grammy's and a history with Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson to me was Lee Soo man's main inspirations for what he wants his S.m artists to be. The entire kpop industry is built off of that model. In the U.S the inspiration is great but I believe in Korea it's what the foundation is built off of almost entirely.

The want to create someone beyond a human being, with a devout fanbase and global success. The indie music industry is barely thought of or given much attention, the rap industry takes a backseat and the idol culture reins supreme.

But why?

I believe many misunderstand that although Micheal Jackson is the name used he himself is used as a stand in for the African American race.

The true inspiration is African American culture itself, the jazz, the rhythm and blues, the hip hop, popping and locking, B-boying. But nobody wants to say all that, it isn't Michael Jackson but he is a representative of the African American population so of course they use his name, because that's what everybody says.

Lsm's first artist was in fact a hip hop star, the large majority of 90s idols were reflections of artists like boys II men, who is a big blueprint for the white American boy band and later the K-pop boy band

They were clearly and unapologetically black people. The market allowed for glitz and glam and also for performers who were toned down.

With K-pop the market is extremely geared towards the Michael Jackson type of performance extremely theatrical and to this day that's where most of the focus is the performance and not really the vocals.

Lsm's first artist had a different experience than other k-pop idols later would. In the begining things were a bit more loose, still heavily western inspired but relaxed

To understand the way kpop is now you have to understand it's roots, not the superficial this song sounds like these other song, NO, the actual roots of how this industry even exists.

I could go into what was going on in America at the time while all this was happening but I might do a whole seperate thing on that. The asian american experience during the 80s and 90s had more to do with assimilating into white culture, while trying to distance itself from black culture almost entirely.

Meanwhile in Korea, things where changing in the opposite direction.

Now, stick with me, taking all of this into account looking at Exo's trainee process which for some members was right when the hip hop industry was at it's height/also the white boy singing black music craze was also very popular. From a business standpoint of course they want to promote a group that's hip hop inspired. After the incident with Hyun-jin it's clear they may have wanted to distance themself from the urban scene and cater to different audiences.

When Exo debuted they did have that style people were used to from edm, hard base, edm, electronic, not necessarily urban by any means. But they would have a turn in genre for their first full album which featured their first hip hop single Growl.

I consider it old school hip hop, but this is what Rolling Stone said about it

the original sounds like something that could easily be a Corbin Bleu song or something or a very young Chris Brown. This would be one of S.m's first real step back into the urban market with Exo, but it wouldn't be the last

They went full urban with Call Me Baby

and remade this demo to a more tame tune. I believe this is the first but not last sample of a black girlgroup they would use. This song has a sort of sample/reference with the 'say my name' which I believe is still dantaethekid's vocals. This using of the demo's singers vocals and remixing it was used one other time. But it's a blend. If you aren't aware of blending vocals, it's a smooth trick to use the original artist vocals and the new artists vocals to get something that sound like normal to the listener, but when you hear the singer sing it acapella something is missing.

S.m paid for all of this, so it's not stolen. That's not what this is about, it's more of a artistic overview and a behind of what went into creating Exo's themes, concepts and what made their music 'special'.

I had no idea Marz was the person who leaked a lot of the original versions, I knew about the older ones but hearing the demo's and now knowing a bit about the music industry...like hearing the original versions help so so much. Good on him.

I honestly thought black people were capping when they talked about what was going on in Kpop. Because, isn't black culture just uesd by everybody? Like they listen to music and their brain makes something similar. That's what I thought was happening...only partially. There is a whole world of information I didn't know about and I thought I knew a lot.

Now that the basis is out of the way, back to the creative process. I believe an integral part of music lasting has to be the emotional connection one has with the music. If an artist's music catalogue was taken away could they start over, if they didn't have songs made for them could they craft their own, or at least try? In a group that's easier, because members can rely on each other.

Using modern western examples, Justin Bieber certainly started out like many artists, he was handed exactly what he was going to sing. He had very little if any connection to his music at all.

Scooter Braun a former party organizer and the opposite of Lee soo man had connections that helped his young client get started in the music industry

unlike in Korea where many groups may never collab with another artist in their entire career. The west survives off of collabs and hit singles. It's a different system. Justin was helped by a Ludacris feature that gave his sound some validity. It helped him not seem like just a nerdy little kid singing about love.

He did not start off with hip hop and it took years before he developed into a sound he and his voice was comfortable with

But wait..there's another part we're missing. Justin wasn't a songwriter but he was a musician. Let me explain

He was not a composer yet, but he wasn't dead weight, he could play any instrument in a band and sing acapella at random. He even did so in one of his first youtube video's.

there's a lot and you can only put so many links on here but this is one of his busking performances

A common misconception when lumping all artists togther is saying they are all untalented or the label helped them sound like this or that. Anyone can get singing lessons, but if this kind of talent could just be put into anybody to sing like this acapella every parent in hollywood would be doing it. Every performer, disney kid would sound exactly like this. Justin was helped by the fact that he didn't need tremendous work on his voice. Only to maintain when he began touring and learning proper technique.

Sm vocal trainer Yoo Young Jin's first album Blues In Rhythm Single 1. and the demo's he does for sm clearly show his singing inspiration comes from Slow Jamz from the 1990. He helped out on Tell me what is love where D.O mimics his style. It becomes like a pattern when you see where they are pulling inspiration from. In terms of american style singing he is thought to have the best voice for rnb. That may not be his preferred style but with the vocal coach they gave him that's clearly what they wanted from him.

I never knew there was another person on this track and back in 2014 I didn't know about their individual vocal coaches and just assumed they were all trained equally. But it seems they gave vocalist specific teachers to improve their craft, screw the others I guess

Hearing it in 2024 it's clear the soul and feeling that existed in the 90s in Korea is..like it just doesn't exist anymore. Yoo youngjin is honestly amazing and I am wondering why he isn't like on Rain's level. Like, he's one of the best clearly. He recently left s.m I believe but he should make a fortune as a vocal coach wherever he goes though.

Good training is definitely important, but as a wise woman once said

Honestly there's nothing to explain it there are just some people that are like angels, there voices are out of this world. Yet, sometimes it's not that complex some people just have a knack for music, they create their own special sound and emotion it's incredibly personal they put their soul into what they do.

How s.m teaches...I really think it's similar to what this woman did. Like first time watching it but it's pretty obvious.

I'm not the most articulate person when it comes to singing, but it feels like they try to purposely use this style to create a flavor that may natural come when other artists are singing, but they do it purposely. Everyone in the company is kind of the same, the stop start, belting, quick talk. It leaves a sense of..how am I even sure what happened, no less what the quality of the vocals are. I like to listen to them cover songs in english because I'm able to tell what their natural rhythm is and not 'sm's rhythm for them' this is important because I like to know that outside of their job an artists likes music and sings music. Korean songs are find but I can tell they depend on vocal tricks they learn to get around actually having to master their voice completely like Yoo youngjin did. That takes mastery. Knowing every limit of your voice.

Not every singer can do this but most successful ones definitely can. Even talking should sound like singing. In general sm and extension Exo sing restrained and restricted even when belting so they hardly ever encounter those surprising vocal tone moments when an artist riffs freely.

I try to be fair yet also I want to use a small pool of artists, Exo is male musicians but I'm not talking in terms of vocal range but technique which anyone can learn.

In this one take Haley showcases a bit of her preferred vocal technique. She's able to belt, keep good breath control, project, and keep a consistent yet give emotion and go all the way with her lines without getting outside her vocal range. It takes self knowledge completely.

She actually has a wide range but rarely hits the notes Exo is known for hitting. It's her stability and projection and belting that stands out.

Also a lot of people say kpop is performance is choreography, which is true, but Rockers are known for running around jumping up and down during concerts, similar energy is being exerted. Not exact but very similar.

Early in Justin's career he was going through puberty. A very straining time for a singer because the voice gets deeper and you loose your original tone and possibly range. Many singers work very hard to maintain their voice if you ruin your voice that could be it for life.

In his early 20s honestly he still had a great voice but he also kind of treated his body poorly, more recently he's been trying to improve his health and get used to his older male range. His sound is different but the technique he learned still holds him. The biggest thing I want to show is the importance of being comfortable in your own range it's less about the falsetto's and belting and more a person mastering their own sound and voice.

That's what matters.

I personally in my opinion don't think s.m cares about this and only wants people to adhere to their vocal standard, this is bad for their overall health and will only lead to strained and bruised vocals. Impressing people is not worth declined quality in your natural singing voice.

I think many fans of singers are afraid of them showing their true voice, cracks and bruises and all. Personally for me it's the mark of a weathered person who's lived life. It's genuine, it leaves an impact on people.

apparently this was at drake's hockey party? I don't know a Canada thing, and he performed a private event, there were no official camera's so the person took the audio that was clear from some and tried their best to cut up and splice it like a seamless video. This is the song most people know him for, it's a completely different arrangement and a natural progression. His voice is rough, smooth, his belting is usually projecting a lot. That's the one thing even back in the day nobody could explain his chest voice, it's evident acapella and with the mic. He does lip sync at times but for the most part whenever he sings acapella it sounds the same or better because he has a crisp to his voice that gives it a unique 'texture'. It's like his voice is the instrument. The projection is crazy though particularly when he's outside. I don't want to put a lot of video's but I wish his talent would be studied more than the gossip. He's a very hurt person, but his talent is a wonder. It's unfair people are only appreciated after they are gone. His relationships, gossip and drama many times over shadow his God given abilities.

There's so many good vocal moments..but I have other stuff to talk about, he's just an example here.

I mainly mentioned him because he trained under the same people Exo's songs come from, but he was trained similar to how the oldies where trained..not in a gospel choir like Elvis but very very close

Justin sang worship songs on the street and mimicked mainly that sound as a child and other black artists, he copied them pretty much all day and night. Once you get into it...like it's a rabbit whole you won't believe. I'm just trying to fit a little bit of this circus into an article. Elvis basically was heavily inspired by the black Pentecostal church and in his movie in idk 2022 with Austin Butler you can see just how much black culture had an effect on him. Like people even me didn't understand. He allegedly really had a spiritual experience

there and it changed basically everything about him. Many didn't really like his style and they thought he was too much, too raunchy or whatever. So it took awhile for people to accept what he was doing.

There's a pattern hear somewhere, but it's a lot.

I'm mixing the history with the vocal analysis because it really does overlap, okay back to the black singers from back in the day. So as I was saying, black culture was having a renaissance away from the stereotypical stand up and snap boy groups of the past. Something new was burgeoning, the soulful sensual group that actually danced and walked around. There were so many black boy groups. This could have twelve parts if I go into every way the black entertainment industry has it's grasp on other music industries. And this is just the music, not even talking about the clothes, the hair, the slang, the walk the talk. It's not even making me upset anymore like this is anthropology at this point. So really we should be glad because I've yet to see so much absorption of black culture. Like it was under lockdown and was considered evil and dark for a long time but now it's like people can't get enough. It's honestly interesting.

So one group I always knew about but never went into was Hi-five who have this hit called the kissing game. A super schoolyard song that is like a black community staple. I never thought I'd analyze it or take a deeper look at it because I've been listening to it since childhood.

But looking back at this live performance that they looked like they just walked on stage and are just doing their thing. They seem so casual and calm like singing like that is just normal and anybody could do it. Two members passed away(rest in peace) it's just insane thinking about it. The black community doesn't even think twice about this kind of stuff it's like pretty much everybody has a cousin or two that sings just like this, or an aunt, uncle. It's like nothing. But in other races we praise something we wouldn't praise in our own race cause we'd expect better. Just something to think about.

Like lord, this precious talented child. Like it's funny cause he don't even take it serious and he's playing around. It's nothing to him, the notes he's hitting so many people have to try so hard. The deep bass to the belting, it's like I always wondered why black people belted like they did, I'm not even sure and I haven't found an answer as of yet.

I purposely chose him singing post puberty because him singing at like 11 literally isn't fair he literally sounds like an angel. From what I understand black boys have a long ribcage and large lung capacity, idk there's theories about it.

Also the audience is important ;a lot of acts mainly K-pop will never play anywhere they don't already have fans, the fans are already there. They will even fill the audiences with fans specifically for each filming session for a broadcast, so they can get the chants and avoid a dead crowd.

They were playing at the Apollo, which is a very tough crowd they boo a lot of people. Like black audiences can be notoriously rude so it's always a hit or miss even if people like you. Like idk if anybody ever got jumped but I wouldn't be surprised.

A big part of sm is their extensive trainee process which is supposed to produce global talent. I still wonder what actually is going on, like there are many cases where the people aren't ready or struggle dang near there whole careers to hold a not and dance properly. I really don't understand it. There is also varying things, on one hand some people train for a short time and debut young, so they aren't ready to sing properly and have to learn but then some train for too long of a time and it's treated like that hurt their talent instead of helped it. So there's hardly ever a person that debut's ready to sing, dance and perform with complete comfortability.

Even by the time they have a solo, their is usually little improvement and it may of been better if they debuted as a soloist and been allowed to grow if being in a group would inhibit their growth so much. Yet at the same time their soloist sometimes struggle as well to make a mark and go global.

The main goal of sm is to focus on fandom and pleasing the fans no matter what so they won't have to truly compete on a global level and will be able to fall back on fans support. Which leads to less cultural impact overall. An artist should be apart of everyday life, there music should be known and listened to passingly not because it's all there is. Variety is key, rock, hip hop, rap, pop being staples in American culture gives soul music credence cause people had choices. When the main acceptable thing is one genre and everyone feels inclined to like it to support the culture it leads to less good music. Variety means competition.

also I believe me using the younger but post pubescent versions of these boy groups are fair because I'm trying to get around Exo's vocal range.

It's not a young Justin completely and not an older Justin so I just used two different video's comparing growth.

I used Haley to cover the belting to compare the technique. I struggle putting into words completely so to give a basis I'm using musicians I actually listen to, in order to give a fair explanation on why I feel like for the kings of K pop operating on a global performance level they don't really hit for me. But not just that, also I just like talking about their impact and what made them a group, both good and bad. I really don't like stan culture, like I really don't. I feel like it took defending celebs way too far. I can't even find an honest review anymore. It's turned fans into babies who can't even articulate what they mean anymore. The brains are beyond fried and it's by choice. Simply to fit in and impress the next person.

I always question if I'm on the right path so I listened to Exo in the studio..I-- it's like average modern korean vocals.

Vocal teachers in Korea that actually want the kids to have vocal chords left after 35

Because forcing people to sing out of their range when you can instead let them mature, and marinate is so dumb. All to impress people and to keep up with 15 year old idols it's not smart.

A good example of proper technique is Bang Yedam, his parents are godtier stage parents, with their kid every step of the way. YG didn't make him, he can write good decent music on his own, he knows his worth. He was taught I'm supposing in a similar manner to the western artists. Very smart. He never went out of his range for a group and now he still has his voice and will continue to if he cares for it.

I remember watching this years ago, and I still to this day can't put into words everything I have stated Exo I suppose wasn't taught to do..but that's wrong. What I believe is similar to dance there's a breaking in process. You cannot just wake up one day and sing like Aretha Franklin or Mariah Carrey you must start from childhood and train your vocal chords. Also I'm assuming..it is something people may be born with. Training is apart of it but some have trained for close to almost 20 years and like I'm not finding what I find in the other artists even children/men/women from the Philippines can sing a Beyonce song randomly like I've studied a lot. It may be something unseen. Like who's gonna study this. Nobody really cares.

Anyway concerning Bang Yedam he hasn't sung many western songs post puberty but this cover of thinking bout you where he's barely raising his voice yet implements bass. He switches into chest voice effortlessly. Many mistake head voice for chest, if the neck veins are popping for someone slightly lowering there voice that's head voice. Chest kind of flows out. That's where the belting and heavy flow out of projection comes from. He has definitely at a very young age solidified his own voice

Like if you don't think this is impressive...lord it's like ..this is a talented child for real. Texture is so hard to come by, like he has real texture, he's aware of almost every facet and can bring out emotion like man there's some talented kids in this world. Like, studying the science of it makes it truly more enjoyable for me. The more Iearn it truly helps me understand more about God and how he works, like everybody is truly different and the best part is when a person does what they specifically are made to do. Forcing someone to become someone else, I hate that. Nobody should try to be anyone else but they encourage these kids to do it instead of figuring themselves out

These companies did not make their trainee's. The credit they are given is honestly blasphemous, it irks me. They helped them get famous but I blame any parent who didn't have their child taught outside these companies. They loose confidence, will struggle to become artists and will loose themselves in this industry.

No everyone isn't the same level of talent. With a lot of these people it's not their teaching, it's their knack for it plus genetics and anatomy. This is clear now, because if everyone were capable of singing just like this is kpop they would. His training helped but people have to stop taking away the self appreciation these people have. They are who they are because they were born with a specific set of skills.

I honestly don't think of western artists much when others berate the talent of others and lift some up. I always think about the precious children left behind because their looks aren't as up to par with the beauty standards, or their fanservice isn't as good.

It's sick to be honest. I understand people can like whatever they like but the lies are getting under my skin, false narratives. Certain talent suppressed. Over obsessed fans laughing at those who are actually more talented than their preferred person but they don't have clout or a huge fanbase so what do it matter. Meanwhile the company isn't even concerned with making good music. They just buy whatever sounds decent hire western producers to do most of the work the throw their staff on it to even it out so they seem self sufficient.

I actually feel better doing all this research cause I always go to the ends of the earth to figure out the truth. I wanted to do other things but this was on my heart for awhile.

I have more specific opinions on Exo but.. I don't know if people are ready for that, it's not rude at all but it's..I'm very blunt and do a lot of research so it's so true to me it would be nothing to say but a pain to explain. I will one day but I mainly just wanted to put non exo musicians here because sometimes you need a fresh perspective. Personally I can't imagine listening to kpop as much as most people do, I bet my perception would be messed up as well. I barely knew s.m had a sound or what techniques s.m used and how once you notice it you can hear the shortcomings of all of their singers, how badly they are straining themselves and how unhealthy it is.

I guess that will be another day when I feel like it. I barely do theories anymore like I used to because reality is way stranger than a theory. But this is just something I do for fun so it depends idk I kinda wanna look at some movies or comic books. It depends whatever is least stressful.

End of pt 2.

[jawllines]

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn’t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.” 

[killerpancakeburger]

Being Ghost's BFF Headcanons

(while also dating Soap cause you deserve the best of both worlds)

If you told anyone that Ghost was your favorite person to see in the morning, they'd write you off as clinically insane. Or laugh in your face. It didn't make it any less true though. When you don't want anyone speaking to you before you had your coffee, the Ghost feels heaven-sent. Others might see it as rude, but you're content with him acknowledging your presence with a nod of head or by raising his mug of tea in your direction.

You've never been afraid of him - more like displaying a healthy apprehension towards a guy exceeding 1m90, weighing over 100kg, and hiding his face.

After spending a couple hours with him, you quickly came up to a new conclusion about him: he just had a resting bitch face. Just because he had a deep voice and a monotonous tone didn't mean he was angry 24/7. He treated people how he wanted to be treated. He had high expectations for himself and for others/teammates. All in all, a pretty reasonable guy.

You like to think he started to respect you for your combat skills and experience, but evidence pointed to the fact that he began to look at you differently after seeing you decisively slap Soap in the face to wake him up after he passed out from blood loss.

There had been a few milestones in your relationship: when he told you a bad joke for the first time (you briefly thought you were having an aneurysm), when he told you to call him Simon (in private), when he awkwardly tried to cheer you up by patting you on the shoulder (first time he touched you outside of combat/training).

Outside of missions, the time you spent together was divided between shooting matches on the training grounds and hanging out with a smoke at night when both of you struggled to sleep. He was one of the rare men not pulling any punches against you, allowing to enjoy the competition freely. Soap tried time and time again to stay awake to join you two, but failed systematically.

Acting like a divorced couple with Soap as the kid you have shared custody of. "Yer man escaped medical again" "Before 6 a.m he is YOUR man, Lieutenant"

Frequently finding yourselves shouting both at the same time: "English, MacTavish!" In the same exasperated tone.

You can handle yourself, and Ghost is perfectly aware of that. That doesn't stop him from standing behind you menacingly like the Grim reaper himself when he thinks someone's taking too many liberties with you.

If Soap's a golden retriever when he's in a good mood, Ghost reminds of your parents' cat: silent, deadly, and shows affection by deigning to occasionally hang out in the same room as you.

You always carry a spare mask for him; and he wears spare hair ties on the wrist - plain, black ones. Cannot mess with his vibe.

People keeps asking how you managed to have a relationship with "The Ghost", and your answer is very simple: "learn when to shut the fuck up".

A/N:

Me in the beginning: I'm only gonna write Soap content

Ghost:

Me: Oh FFS

BONUS:

When Ghost told you a bad joke for the first time:

You still remembered the joke incident vividly: you were on a mission together, just the two of you, and as you were focusing more than usual, anxious to disappoint him or to be a liability, you suddenly heard in your com: "Ye heard the rumour 'bout butter?"

If Ghost's voice hadn't been unmistakable, you would have thought he had been killed and replaced by someone else.

"What (the fuck)", you exhaled, not because you wanted to know about butter, but because you had no idea what the hell was happening. The fact that his tone was exactly the same as usual - deadpan, flat - contributed to making you feel insane.

"Nah, I shouldn't be spreadin' it". was the answer. Torn between demanding explanations and not wanting to commit a faux pas, you replied the way you replied to your parents' bad jokes:

"Ha. Ha. Haha...?" 

The seasoned killer on the other side of the mic didn't seem to mind, but you texted Soap in panic as soon as your butt touched the helicopter's seat.

“JOHNNY”

"Sup hen"

"Cannae go wan mission without missing me, ae? ;)"

"Did Ghost hit his head recently??"

"Negative Ma'am" "Why? Did something happen??"

"He told me a dad joke. A fucking dad joke."

"😂 Thats kinda his thing"

"thought I was losing it"

"Congrats, ye can consider yerself stamped wit The Ghost seal of approval"

"Ok? Cool???"

"Mah too favourite people gittin along" *trails of smiling emojis and hearts*

[leclercsluvs]

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 7 | masterlist

an: i'm not really sure how long this is going to be, but i am pretty sure it's not going to be too many more parts. pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 5.619.174 others charles_leclerc been working on some new stuff. written for a specific person. love you.

carlossainz55 you're doing everything you can huh?

charles_leclerc i've got to show i'm the one for her landonorris that's the reason you sent her flowers without letting her know? danielricciardo the flowers were from you? maxverstappen1 ooo does charles need to watch out next race?

scfty/n i'm scared this isn't good.

norrislcve oh lord i fear for the next race.

luvsricciardo okay but imagine seeing daniel absolutely fight the shit car he has just so he can threaten charles?? it's gonna be exciiiiting norrislcve and if he takes them both out of the race?? luvsricciardo good for him tbh. charles lowkey deserves it norrislcve you don't even know the full story??? you have a few paparazzi photos and an album FROM ONE SIDE and you decide charles deserves to be taken out of a race? if they can't separate their private life and the race it self, they should NOT be racing.

f1updates

liked by sharllve, lecsluv and 1.279 others f1updates we have been sent these photos that is supposedly yourusername back in ferrari merch. is this a hint towards anything? tagged: yourusername

scfty/n those first two photos are literally old, and the last photo isn't even her?? she posted those two photos on her instagram after one of the first races she attended with charles.

leclrcs i literally saw here there tho, and she was wearing jeans like that scfty/n and that's supposed to prove what? that she reuses jeans? and there's literally two types of jeans here, a pair of black and a pair of light blue 🤨

wrldofleclerc i saw her there, but she was wearing a mclaren jacket (probably to support her bf??)

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 4.719.720 others yourusername well it seems some people were concerned with what i was wearing at the race this weekend. ferrari? nah. mclaren? yes. (he caught me trying to be sneaky while taking a photo) tagged: danielricciardo

danielricciardo to be honest you don't have to be sneaky. you can take photos of me anyday. i know i look good

yourusername you're right. i can take photos of you anytime. because i'm your girlfriend. i dont need permission 🥰 landonorris if he ever says you can't take photos of him, you're free to start taking photos of me 🙃 yourusername might take advantage of that offer. thank you danielricciardo don't steal my girlfriend 😠

y/nsvsp looks better than the red tbh

leclercsbae how dare you? y/nsvsp just speaking the truth 🤷 wrldofy/n can we agree she looks amazing in everything tho?

lecswrld good for you tbh. tell them

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 2.823.973 others yourusername all talked out, don't worry no one's being pushed off the track this weekend. right? am i going back to red? never. i found my color 🧡 tagged: charles_leclerc, danielricciardo

danielricciardo speak for yourself, i'm pushing people off the track i need to get back on that podium

charles_leclerc not the best way to do it mate landonorris you're letting me stay right? your favorite teammate? danielricciardo let's see 🤷‍♂️ yourusername don't threaten lando. he's too precious.

lecswrld he already looks so much happier!

rics.aep omggg they're friiiiends

luvsnorris are they getting back together?

leclercsaep i doubt it. with the rumors of him having cheated and her being in a happy relationship, there's a slim chance y/n and charles will get back together

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1.718.032 others charles_leclerc was forced to tasted this green thing. never doing that again. absolutely horrifying. tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 and you loved it

yourusername you charles you loved it >:( charles_leclerc i absolutely did not. i hated it. horrible. worst time of my life. maxverstappen1 worse than qualifying in baku 2019? charles_leclerc blocked.

pierregasly thank you for these photos. they're amazing.

yourusername i have some of max too. wanna see them? charles_leclerc YOU DIDN'T POST THOSE? yourusername no, not yet. do you see them on my profile? maxverstappen1 if you post those, i will make sure both daniel AND charles will end up in the wall on sunday. charles_leclerc you wouldn't danielricciardo i am shook.

comicallec everyone say a thanks to y/n for taking these photos

landonorris thank you y/n 🙏

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 2.492.129 others danielricciardo back on that top step baby! knew it was possible 💪 tagged: mclaren

landonorris excuse me did you forget that i was there with you???

danielricciardo my dear friend, you are in the second photo. landonorris was expecting more aknowledgement ngl yourusername don't worry i took lots of photos where it's visible landonorris at least someone cares about my feelings

mclaren so proud of our drivers for the 1-2 this weekend! 💪

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 3.111.304 others yourusername since my boyfriend couldn't care less about including lando, heres a few photos from the weekend that includes lando (i'm aware most of you follow me for my singing and not these randon guys that likes driving fast cars, but i'm just very proud 🥹 i'm leaving for tour in a couple of days and then you'll get all sorts of content) tagged: danielricciardo, landonorris, mclaren

landonorris THANK YOU

danielricciardo you're acting like i didn't include you AT ALL 🥲 landonorris because you barely did maxverstappen1 yeah mate you could have put in some more effort yourusername yeah daniel you could have included at least one more with him. danielricciardo wow i see how it is

ncrrisfav YESSSS gimme gimme gimme

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1.908.166 others landonorris daniel hurt my feelings so he's not being included >:( thank you yourusername for the second photo! amazing weekend. would not recommend drinking champagne from daniel's shoe tho tagged: danielricciardo, mclaren

yourusername yeah honestly drinking from daniel's shoe, disgusting.

danielricciardo and i thought you loved me landonorris your feet sweat tastes disgusting. never doing that again danielricciardo can i bribe you?? landonorris depends how much you're willing to pay yourusername disgusting.

norris.vfx god the content we're getting right now is AMAZING

clarkeybog ikr?? loving it!

-

part 8

[crowpickingss]

Tick Tock

hook x gn! reader

summary: the reader and hooks son (not Harry) travels back in time to break up hook and the reader

warnings: crying, breakup, breakdown

a/n: part one of a two part series, the son is the younger sibling to harry. part 2 is written and will be released tmr

ps. please overlook the fact that the sons wouldn’t exist if hook and the reader broke up

credits to @w4w4lycsss for the idea (fic listed here: annoying children)

part 2 | prequal

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

You relished the time you spent with your boyfriend. James Hook was the one you wanted to spend your life with the one for you. You two were Merlin Academy favourite couple, and you wore that title with pride.

Hook was a romantic he would always do small gestures like giving you expensive jewels that he defiantly didn’t steal or taking you on dates to his favourite places. The love he had for you was infinite.You had the perfect storybook love as many dubbed it a happy ever after.

Right now you were sitting on hooks lap as he told a story to his friends you were picking at the grass when one of the new people came up to you. He was wearing a leather jacket and black combat boots accompanied by black cargo shorts. His style reminded you of hook.

The new kid sat down on the grass next to hook and you “Hey would you happen to know we’re James and y/n would be?” You lifted yourself off of hooks lap and seated yourself between hook and the new kid “You’re in luck, I am y/n” He smirked sinisterly “Great, you wouldn’t mind showing me around the school would you” You stood up and brushed off your outfit “I’m free, how about we start over there”

It took hook a while to notice you were gone he went to pull you back onto his lap when he realised you were missing. He frowned but turned back to his friends “Why did y/n leave? Did I say something wrong” Morgie shook his head and moved next to hook to comfort him “Nah, he went off with the new kid” A small wave of jealously hit hook he didn’t know why but he didn’t like the new kid.

For the days following you found the new kid would stick to you like glue, every time he would steal you away hook would get more jealous and lest trustworthy of you. One day when you had avoided him completely he hit his breaking point, he broke down in Morgie’s arms confessing everything.

The next day when you approached him the VK’s shooed you away. You were confused and hurt that your friends had pushed you away. Soon you found yourself spending more time with the new kid, he seemed happier now that hook had stopped seeing you.

One day you found hook at his locker and confronted him “Hook, why are you avoiding me?” He looked over to you and a tear formed in his eye “I can’t believe you, we’ve been dating for a year and you go and cheat” You frown “I’m not cheating, I don’t know why you would think that” He slammed his locker door “Stop lying, we’re over” He stormed off most likely into his friends arms.

That night you cried yourself to sleep in your dorm. The next day everything in your dorm that belonged to hook was boxed up and sent to his dorm. You sent back every piece of jewellery expect for one pearl necklace the first one he had given you.

You had tried to find comfort in the new kids arms but he had left weeks after he had arrived. You felt alone and cold distant.

Now in present day you were cold and distant. Even when the isle opened up you found to sickening. You had left Auradon to build new lands elsewhere. You were controlling and ruthless many people were too afraid to even speak to you. The only person you cared about was your son. The same son that had traveled back in time and had broken you and hook up

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

[slothkittfunsies]

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hai um, can you do like, Rengoku x Reader who struggles with body insecurities? Mainly like, the tummy or back plush?

HELLO! Yea!

I did already do Rengoku x chubby!reader but I don't ever think there can be enough of the sunshine man, so yes, yes I can!

There are 3 things in Demon Slayer I refuse to accept: 1) that the breathing styles don't actually create the cool effects, 2) that thing about what happens after they activate the slayer marks, and 3) that Kyojuro has a six pack. My boy lives on copious amounts of carbs and fried food and has a little squish himself (also it just makes sense for a swordsman to have extra padding- would you rather get stabbed through your muscles and internal organs or a couple of inches of fat? Anyway...)

KYOJURO X CHUBBY READER- Tummy Edition.

(God I fucking love him)

NSFW beneath the cut. GN!Reader. TASTY.

You're at the kitchen sink washing sweet potatoes for dinner when Kyojuro comes up behind you and hugs as he often does, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your neck.

He feels you tense up slightly. You stiffen in his arms and your hand defensively goes to capture his wrist.

He knows immediately what's wrong. He's very good at reading people and this has happened before. You're concerned about your tummy again.

"You're so beautiful," he assures you, his voice soft and low against that spot just below your ear. "Inside and out."

You try to cover your vulnerability with humor and hold up one of the vegetables in your hand. "Nah, I look like this."

His thick, black eyebrows slant in concern, "Now, sunflower, you know how I feel about sweet potatoes. They're beautiful too. But..." He loosens his hug a little to place his hand across your belly. "They're hard and un-cuddleable, and you're soft, so the comparison doesn't really hold up beyond you both being my favorites."

You smile and he leans into you, kissing your temple. "Did someone say something to hurt you?"

"No, it's just a feeling." You look down, as the weight of your insecurity crushes you.

"Hm," he hums thoughtfully.

He turns you round to face him and gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with adoration and reverence. He takes your hand in his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"I need you to listen to me, but I will repeat it as many times as you need me to. You are beautiful to me. I adore every aspect of you, and that includes your softness."

He tells you this with the utmost sincerity and gentle kindness, his thumb stroking circles on the back of your hand as he speaks.

And when he's done and you nod your head in understanding, he pulls you into an embrace, resting his cheek on your stomach and smiling to himself.

He's telling the truth too; he will absolutely tell you how wonderful you are to him however many times it takes and he means it wholeheartedly.

No matter what your insecurity is; your tummy, your back, arms, thighs, chest, he adores you and thinks you're the most wonderful person. His very favorite person, in fact.

Now... when it comes to insecurities about your body during sex, Kyojuro is just as supportive, but he will show you how much he appreciates your body, as well as simply telling you.

OBVIOUSLY Kyojuro is King of Going Down and he will happily spend forever between your thighs, but if you're self conscious about your tummy he's gonna make a little stop there first.

He'll kiss it all over telling you how gorgeous you are, that you're precious and wonderful and worthy.

He'll get so wrapped up in your loveliness he'll forget how loud he is.

*kiss* BEAUTIFUL! *kiss* GORGEOUS! *kiss* SEXY!!

You laugh because your lovely man is just so effusive with his love and appreciation of you, and it's impossible not to feel it.

And then he'll wipe that smile off your face as his kisses trail lower...

While he's going down on you, he'll lay his arm over your stomach. Since he can't hear well (especially with your thighs cradling the sides of his head) your belly tells him a lot about how you're enjoying yourself.

He pays attention to the rhythm of your breaths, the tension in your muscles and the way your soft body moves with them.

He LOVES the way your lower belly tenses when you're right on the brink.

And when he's made you cum he'll make sure you're fucked right.

He never gives you less than his all.

He'll either press down into you, relishing the soft, plush warmth of your body against his

or he'll have you ride him; half-closed fiery eyes drinking in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way you move.

"Beautiful~" he whispers, because he simply cannot hold that thought in.

He just adores you.

No matter what, his love for you burns bright, and he'll spend his life trying to get that fire to spread to your heart too.

[leikeliscomet]

Racism in the ace community is seen as a joke from the outside and a confusing concept in the inside but it's pretty bait tbh:

Barbie, Wednesday and Elsa are ace-coded but not canon aces but they're widely accepted as ace icons in the community. Lacking genitalia, disliking romance and being single are not inherently asexual yet the community happily claims them as ace solely on those reasons. But Selah Summers? Nah she actually didn't say the words "aroace" even though the director confirmed it so she didn't really count. Abbi Singh? Nah she had a girlfriend and her superpower is being a succubus and it's not like the Imperfects actually addressed the themes of an asexual lesbian South Asian woman and her sexuality or anything. Fei Hargreeves? Well yeah the actress and producer confirmed it but she never said it on screen. Ace characters of colour always get held "screened" for approval to be "real rep" in a way white aces aren't its so weird (this also happens to gay aces but that's another post)

Almost anything involving Yasmin Benoit. The reason she's unacceptable ace rep is because of misogynoir. She's spoken so many times about never dating and not having sex (which mind you is none of our business and she shouldn't need to explain herself in the 1st place) and yet she's "too sexual" to represent the community. Again with the nitpicking, popular white ace accounts were so quick to dogpile her for not-so-good takes but when she speaks about racism? Crickets. When she spoke about sexual harassment? Crickets and not only that but they defended her harasser. The main ace activists that defended her were other Black aspecs.

Not understanding how desexualisation affects POC. Specifically, Black women are excluded from representations of love and sex because we're seen as undesirable. It's common for TV/Film to pair up everyone but the Black girl, or have a rebound Black partner for the non-Black main character who's disposed of when they're ready for their "real" non-Black partner again. This isn't done for Black aspecs benefit. It's a form of dehumanisation. Friendship especially in m/f is needed but exclusively pushing for friendship between Black women and non-Black men when there is romance coded or confirmed and shaming Black women in fandom or in show for shipping the Black female character is not doing what you think its doing.

Not understanding how sexualisation effects POC. Again linking to Yasmin, POC, especially Black people have been sexualised due to white supremacy. The "allosexual privilege" framework fails to acknowledge this because Black people's sexual attraction and sex is seen as aggressive and animalistic. Black people aren't "allowed" to be ace because of this sexualisation and why Yasmin regardless of what she wears or does is seen is too promiscuous.

Not acknowledging ace POC as ace rep. Again, where was the acknowledgement of Selah and the Spades as groundbreaking rep? The first aroace darkskin Black girl as a lead in any film? Sherronda J Brown spoke about Big Mouth's Black ace character and someone said it didn't count just bc they dislike the show. Again with Abbi and Fei the community didn't make noise for them like they did Todd from Bojack Horseman or Florence from Sex Ed (mind you the gap between how they did Florence vs O is jarring in itself) Isaac from Heartstopper was inspirational for many aspecs and I wont take that away but the way he's instantly credited for ace representation when he has so little screentime compared to the others is wild.

Just tired tbh. "Listen to POC aces!" "POC aces are valid!" Prove it then...?

[mushiemellows]

drunken love confessions, prompt 1. sanji and usopp

(For Drunken Love Confession prompts, still accepting requests!)

"I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?"

The Great Captain Usopp had been drunk plenty of times. So many. You could try to count how many times The Great Captain Usopp had been drunk before, but then you couldn’t actually get there in the end because the number was just too big. The most. He dr-he drank every day, in fact! He drank so much every day that he was-he was probably always drunk! Yeah! He didn’t even remember the last time he was sober! 

So when Zoro handed him another beer, of course he knew what the consequences would be! They’d stolen a few barrels off of a little crew they’d beaten up just outside of Longuetown. The fight had been vicious and bloody, as all pirate fights tended to be. But he was cool about it. Didn’t scream at the sight of the blood. Didn’t have the single instinct to get the hell out of there. Nah. Not the Great Captain Usoop. He was cool under pressure. The coolest.

And his position as a sniper did its best in the back lines, that wasn't his fault. Up in the crows nest, raining hellfire down on those who dared challenge the new rookie Straw Hat Pirates as they made their grand escape from the East Blue. The loser crew had scuffed his Merry, but he made them pay, took his revenge tenfold. Hundredfold. Millionfold? Millionfold. 

Luffy had laughed the skirmish off, but everyone else hadn’t fared so well. Zoro was still raw in the chest, which had put the bulk of offense on Sanji. Their newest crew mate took quite the beating to the face, black eyed and swollen. Nami had done some initial patch work before the Great Captain Doctor Usopp swept in to really get the job done. He didn’t know what Luffy was talking about, they didn’t need a doctor! He could do it, and surgery definitely didn’t give him the heebie jeebies. He could do it every day. He could do it drunk! 

His nakama had their little celebration in light of the minor victory, cuts and bruises be damned. The beer flowed. And then it kept flowing. And continued to do so. Even more, oh, oh god that was a lot of beer. The Great Captain Usopp was always drunk, but was also starting to think that maybe there was such a thing as too much beer. He opened his mouth to ask for some water, but the words that came out requested…more beer. 

Nami went to bed early, while Zoro and Luffy passed out at the dining table in a sea of plates and cups. Some people just couldn’t handle their liquor. He got it, he remembered his first time getting blackout drunk. Which was years ago, and definitely not that night. 

He and Sanji had ended up laying on the deck, taking watch first, staring up at the stars. Usopp liked talking to their newest addition, liked learning about this boy who’s life seemed so opposite of his own. They both spread out and felt the earth spin beneath them as they hurtled through space and sea, a sensation that was definitely real and not a result of all the alcohol. He couldn’t even feel the drink at this point! That’s how totally used to being wasted he was. Psh. Nothing. 

“Whadja do that for?” Usopp asked in his most usual, normal, everyday slurred tone.

“Do what?” Sanji frowned. 

“Your face, you big idiot! I thought—fight ‘em with little leggies.” 

“What?!”

Those hadn’t been the words Usopp meant to speak at all. He was trying to say something along the lines of I’m worried about how your eye looks, that was a really close call. Your up close fighting style makes it so that you’re easy to hit and leaves you wide open. You seem very hurt and I wish I could help you feel better. I care about your wellbeing. But those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth. None of the words he was trying to say seemed like they matched his intention, in fact. 

“Sometimes,” he sat up and squinted at Sanji, “we and then you go and but how come it’s except when. So that I said which isn’t not what he. Stupid little. Eyes and mouth in the but a head. Ouch. Hot. Y’know?” 

“You’re drunk, dumb ass.” 

“Oh?”

“I’m getting you water,” the cook stood to make his way to the galley, but the sniper stood just as fast. Storyteller’s hands gripped his shoulders tight. The world spun.

“Look! It isn’t that easy to scrumb your mufflins with the rest of us! You gotta take the chance when you see it or else but we in the…y’know. Boom. Get it, idiot?” 

“Not in the slightest, what the hell are you even talking about?” 

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji. I’m. And then I see you. Ouch. Stupid beauty baka boy. Right? And then we go and but if we and you are. Until next time. Duh,” Usopp rolled his eyes and wished desperately that the right words would form. “No. I’m…”

“You’re getting your water, I’m making you throw up, and then you’re going to bed, is what you are,” Sanji frowned as he turned to go, but the other boy still gripped him tight. 

“WAIT. You can’t.” 

“Why can’t I?”

“They’ll getcha.” 

“…Who?” 

“I dunno! Too pretty. Stupid little pretty stupid idiot dumb ass beautiful. Why?” 

“Have you lost your mind?” The cook balked, growing genuinely worried about the other man’s incoherence. 

“When… Look at your face. Yeah. Wanna’nother beer?” 

“NO!” 

Usopp leaned in to investigate the bandages on his crew mate's cheek. A thick cloud of booze clung to his breath. “I like…stupid face. So stupid. Face. It’s so… heh. Like it. Can I touch?” 

“Wh-what?” 

“So pretty. Wanna… kiss pretty. But also and I you. Think…love. Yeah. You okay? It—yikes, ouch. Come here baby, Captain Doctor Usopp heal better,” he giggled to himself and puckered his lips. 

“You’re way too drunk for me to kiss! And—and you’re—and we,” Sanji blushed, stammering words now just as incomprehensible as the drunk man’s. 

Usopp giggled with a pat to the cook’s cheek, between his jaw and his ear on the side mostly covered by hair. “Heh. Sure-ee-o, Romeo. Yes chef, on it, boss. You gotta. Maybe breakfast.”

“You’re hungry?”

“Sanji, Sanji, man will live a life of quicksand, but not understand that the grains of freedom were in his fingers until the hourglass has run dry. You know this. One day, will know this again.” 

Sanji burst into laughter, “yeah? And who said that, dumb ass?” 

“The Great Captain Usopp just did!” 

“Alright, Captain Usopp. You sit here, I’m getting you that water. Stay put, don’t fall overboard. Got it?” The cook guided him to hold on to the railing tight. Funny, the sniper didn’t know that Merry could spin around like that. She was always showing him something new. 

Usopp stared at his newest crew mate with all the love and admiration in the world in his drunk fog. His words weren’t perfect, but he’d get better with time. Everything was just a matter of practice. Something new was starting to shape. Slumber seduced the Great Captain Usopp, taking all memories of the drunken night with him. A night just like any other when you’re a pirate so great and cool and suave. And then, it was gone.

Yet, Sanji stared out the porthole, empty water glass still on the counter, hand to his cheek on the side mostly covered in hair. Plenty of words formed in his mind, but none came out his mouth as intended. 

“He…wanted to kiss me?”

[naomis-daydream]

essence in the air // letitia wright

summary: interviewer!reader. it seems there’s a lot of underlying chemistry between you and your interviewee, Letitia Wright

a/n: saw clips of tish flirting w interviewers and here we are. i included a lil piece inspired by @drletitiawright and @aaliyg talking about a Dr kink 😏

warnings: just fluff. flirty reader and flustered tish. reader is from the Dominican Republic and speaks Spanish (very minimal)

✧

you exhale softly as you get last minute touch ups to hair and makeup. you glance across from you to look at your interviewee—Letitia Wright. she was dressed in a off white hoodie with matching sweats, a black jacket, and air forces, scrolling on her phone while her glasses reflect the bright screen.

you were very excited for this interview. you had gotten great reviews from many stars and prided yourself on having laidback, fun sessions with all guests for Essence Magazine. from Lashana Lynch to Keke Palmer, your issue of celebrity interviews in the magazine and on their channel had been something viewers looked forward to, which was very beneficial for your paycheck.

she looks up, catching your gaze as she offers a smile. you return the gesture, crossing your legs in the lounge chair. “you ready?” you ask as the cosmetologists left.

she inhales sharply, “yep, though i wish you’d told me about the dress code,” she says, eyeing your exposed legs from the slit in your dress. “i would’ve come in something nicer.”

“girl, you’d look good in a trash bag. besides, the whole point of this is for you to have fun and be comfortable. as long as that’s happening, you’re good.”

“says the one wearing a body con dress,” she says as you wave a hand at her. “you go out in designer everyday, you’ll be good for 30 minutes, hon.” she laughs, humming in agreement.

the tech guy comes in, cueing you as the cameraman starting rolling.

“hey guys, I’m y/n y/l/n with Essence Magazine, and today i’m here with esteemed movie star, devoted Christian, and—as of recent weeks— doctor in arts and letters, miss letitia wright. how you doing, angel?”

a smile dances across her face, eyes surely lighting up behind her black sunglasses. “wow, what an introduction. thank you. i-i’m well, how are you?”

“great, thank you,” you begin. “so, tell me a little about how you earned your doctorate, what’s it in, and what it means to you?”

she sighs briefly, “man, it’s um, it’s definitely an honor, such a blessing to even be considered for something like that. it’s in arts and letters, as you said, and to have it come from a school in my home country, Guyana, made it that much more…moving for me. i’ve been acting since I was a teenager and never dreamed of any of this happening.” she said, gesturing around us with her hands. “from small projects in London to…”

“being an international award-winning actress?”

“yes! it’s all a lot, but being recognized for my work is-is great.” she finishes.

“do any of your friends or family use the title or is it just a formality?”

“nah, after i got it some did as a lil joke but for the most part I’m same ol tish.”

so, can I call you doctor?” you tease.

she laughs lightly, shaking her head. though her words contradict her as she replies. “i-i suppose so, yeah, yeah you can.”

“dr. wright.” you said. “has nice ring to it. though mrs. wright wouldn’t sound too bad either.”

her laughter was fuller this time. “bad. you are bad.”

you shrug lightly, a knowing smile on your face.

“but in all seriousness, it’s nice to see representation for Afro Caribbeans out here. being an inspiration for so many across the world, and a role model for young people everywhere to see someone who looks like them, who comes from a place like them, on screen. we don’t see enough of us gettin’ our flowers. I’m glad you are.”

she nods humbly. “you Caribbean? stop playin, what part?”

“la República Dominicana, act like you know,” you said smiling. She hummed in admiration. “oh, the accent, ok I see you. you speak any Spanish?”

“eres muy hermosa y tienes mucho talento.”

you’re very beautiful and have so much talent.

you say the short sentence to her, none of which she understands, yet she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she listened. “i don’t know what you said, but it sounded hella good,” she smiles.

you shook head as you laughed. “man, you something else,” you said as you looked at her again, to which she put her hands up in defense.

“speaking of accents, in a lot of your productions you’re seen using your regular British accent, as well as those from various parts of Africa.”

“mmhm.”

“yet, we rarely hear you with an american accent onscreen. can you give me your best american accent right now?”

“right now?” she asks, pointing down.

“right now, go.”

she shakes her shoulders out before turning to the camera. “hey y’all, i’m letitia wright here with Essence Magazine,” she says in the absolute worst attempt of a southern accent you’ve ever heard.

your eyes go wide before you bust out laughing, shaking your head. “come on, now. don’t do me like that,” she says, a shy smile on her face.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you begin as you calm yourself. “it’s just refreshing to know there’s something you’re not good at.”

“i haven’t had any roles that require an american accent yet, so there’s time to perfect it.” you nod in agreement.

“so for the real question of the hour,” you say as she leans back in her seat, waiting for you to continue. “why you always got them glasses on?”

she smacks her teeth, trying—and failing—to suppress the smirk that grows on her face. “man, i thought we were gonna get deep.”

“oh, we can get deep, angel. i mean, why hide the eyes? the windows to the soul. i bet you have a beautiful soul, yet the entire time you’ve been here i haven’t got to see for myself.”

“my eyes or my soul?” she asks, tilting her head back.

you open your mouth to respond, yet can’t find the words. you begin to smile as she points at you. “ahh, i got you there, huh?” she says, grills glowing under the studio lights.

you roll your eyes as you reply. “alright, alright. don’t let it happen again.”

“my bad, baby girl. here,” she says, reaching up to take off her shades. “to make it up to you.” she sets them down on the small glass table between you.

“aw, thank you, dr. wright.” you say, thankful for the gift of melanin, and blush applied previously, that the heat rising to your face isn’t visible.

“so?”

“so…”

“my eyes…do they live up to your expectations?”

you lean forward, not missing the way her eyes drop to your cleavage as she does the same. you pause to really look at her, defined jawline, toned skin, fresh haircut, before going back up to her eyes.

“they are…subpar.” you say, swiping her glasses from the table as you slide them over your eyes.

“wow,” she says, bringing a hand to her heart as she leaned back. “it’s like that?”

you wave her off. “i’m just teasing, relax,” you assure as she mumbles, “yeah, ok.”

with the glasses off, you can really feel her gaze on you, though luckily part of yours is hidden this time.

“now look who’s hiding,” she comments, nodding her chin up at you.

“a nice change of pace. i think i look good, right? real official.”

she laughs before she responds. “yeah, you look good.”

you smile as you take them off, putting them on the neckline of your dress.

“so, can I count on seeing you at Essence Fest?” you ask with a sickeningly sweet smile, one that prevents her from answering with anything other than yes. “yeah, yeah you’ll see me there.” she replies while nodding with a smile.

you turn to the cameraman, “ok, i think we’re good!” you turn back to her, “thanks again for coming! it’s been a joy to have you.”

“thank you for having me. truly one of the best interviews i’ve had in a long time.”

“just doing my job, angel.”

she shakes her head, looking at the floor. “of course, of course. would you mind if we have a picture?”

“not at all,” you say, going to sit on the arm of her chair. you do a few sitting, her signature smize and a couple hand motions. you both get up to do standing shots, some with her hands clasped in front of her and others with her arm around your middle.

once you’re done she pulls you in for a hug. your hands slide up her shoulder blades as hers find their way around your waist once more. she gives you a caring squeeze which you reciprocate. you feel pressure between your chests which makes you pull away as you realize. “oh! don’t forget your glasses,” you pull them from the hem of your dress, extending a hand towards her.

“please, keep ‘em,” she assures, giving you one last smile—small yet warm—before heading out.

“bye, doctor!” you call as she leaves.

she turns around, walking backwards with her hands in her pockets. “see you soon.”

-

you packed up for the day, locking up your office and the main studio. walking out the building, your stride pauses as you feel your phone buzz in you purse. you pull it out to see a notification from instagram.

letitiawright started following you

you smiled at the message, seeing you missed two others from a couple hours ago.

letitawright mentioned you on their story

letitawright tagged you in a post

liked by essence, danaigurira, and others

letitiawright new issue of @essence for the March 2023 issue. You can watch the interview on their channel and see the wonderful photos this spring✨

koffee 😍🖤

load comments

✧

a/n: best believe she looked up whatever the hell you said and blushed

[noirsfantasy]

On the ninth day of Christmas...

𝕽𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝕺𝖓 𝕴𝖈𝖊

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 2K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ In the middle of winter break, Miles, feeling restless, hits you up to see if you'd wanna hang out. You suggest ice skating and soon enough, you're on the ice. You find yourself realizing exactly how you feel about Miles and that, maybe, he feels the same.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Here's a cute lil oneshot for ya. I absolutely love Spiderverse, so it's always fun to make fanfics of it. I hope you guys like it!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

The winter chill has settled over Brooklyn, New York, covering the streets in a layer of pristine snow. School has just gotten out for winter break and it seems like the crime has died down a bit, so Miles hasn't really had anything to do. Feeling a bit restless, he glances out of his window at the snowy world below. With a sigh, Miles reaches for his phone, deciding to make his day more interesting and text his best friend, Y/N.

Miles: "Yo, you busy?"

You were in your home, lounging in your room as you scroll on your phone. A notification shows up at the top of your screen and you see it's a message from Miles. You look at the text you received and raise an eyebrow, curious as to why he was asking.

Y/N: "Nah, I'm free right now. What's up?

Miles: "You wanna hang out? I'm bored..."

Y/N: "Yeah, I'm down. What did you have in mind?"

Miles: "Dunno, we could just chill at my house?"

You sigh at his suggestion, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

Y/N: "I'm tired of being inside, I wanna go out somewhere. How 'bout that ice skating place that just opened a few weeks ago?"

Miles had to pause, contemplating on whether or not to go. But he decided that if it made you happy, he wanted to take you there.

Miles: "Sure, I'm down. You better not be scared to go ice skating."

His reply sounded as if he was mocking you.

Y/N: "Speak for yourself. They don't call me Ice Queen for nothin'😉❄️"

Miles couldn't help but chuckle.

Miles: "Sure, Miss 'Ice Queen'. Let's do this."

Fifteen minutes later, you and Miles are walking down the snowy streets, heading towards the ice skating rink. While walking, the cold surrounded you two, a slight breeze causing Miles to wince and rub his arms a bit.

"Dang, it's kinda cold out here." He says, looking over at you, presuming you were also cold.

"What? You can't handle a little chill?" You ask teasingly, hiding the fact that you are chilly as well. Miles scoffs and looks over as his breath is visible.

"You don't look any less frozen than me, Ice Queen." He moves closer to you, rubbing his shoulder against yours in an attempt to warm himself. You laugh sarcastically at his joke and bump his shoulder playfully.

"We're almost there, crybaby," You say, pointing up ahead. Miles was going to give a comeback in response, but he was too damn cold to really care too much.

"Good, I'm freezing my ass off." He admits, his teeth chattering a bit as he speaks. When we get inside, it's still cold but definitely warmer than outside. We head up to the front desk and pay for some rentals before heading over to a bench to put the skates on. Miles struggles a bit with his. He's a bit uncoordinated sometimes, so it takes him some time to actually put them on properly. Although, once he's done, he smiles and looks at you expectantly.

"So? Show me what you got, Ice Queen." He says with a slight laugh. You meet his challenge with a smirk.

"Watch and learn, Morales!" You glide out gracefully onto the ice, noticing that there's not that many people out. Miles shuffles over to the ice, holding onto the wall as he watches you. "See? I know what I'm doing." Miles rolls his eyes playfully at you.

"Sure, keep thinking that. But hey, if you fall, I'll be there to catch you. Sound fair?" He laughs, sounding a bit flirtatious. You laugh in response.

"You wish I would fall!" You shout as you take a lap around the rink. You come back around and Miles is still waiting at the edge of the ice. "Whatchu waiting for, slow poke?" You taunt. He gives you a determined look and steps out onto the ice. Although, before he can even finish taking a step, he falls onto the cold floor, landing on his butt. You skate over to him, holding out a hand. Miles looks up at you, seeming a little bit embarrassed.

"What was that you said about catching me if I fall? Maybe I should've been saying that." You tease as you stifle a laugh. He shakes his head as he grabs your hand and pulls himself up.

"Shut up. I tripped." He insists, obviously lying to himself.

"On thin air, or your ego?" You stick your tongue out tauntingly and start skating forward.

"Thin air, definitely. My ego's still very much in tact, thank you." You chuckle as he catches up, the two of you now gliding on the ice together. Miles is a bit wobbly, but he finds his balance, hoping not to fall on his ass again. You shake your head and hold your hand out to him.

"Here, just hold onto me." You offer with a small smirk on your face. Miles gives you a smug look back, taking your hand and standing upright.

"My hero." He replies mockingly. You roll your eyes and he pulls you closer to him as you both skate forward. "You know, if you wanted to hold my hand, Y/N, you could've just said so." He teases, giving you a wink.

"What? No, I was just being nice. If you wanted to hold my hand, you could've just asked." You retort playfully, giving him a nudge with your elbow. He looks as if he's going to lose his balance for a moment, but then recovers, glaring at you as you snicker at him.

"Uh huh, that's what they all say." He scoffs and you continue to laugh at him. Suddenly, he loses his balance again and he grabs onto your shoulders for support, gasping loudly. He ended up accidentally pushing my back against the railing of the rink. To others it looks like he's just giving me a hug, but he's really trying not to fall again.

"Ah! Miles!" You instinctively grab onto him as you hold him up and you can't help but to giggle. Miles sighs, looking off to the side but it's obvious that he's enjoying how close he gets to be to you.

"You're so bad at this! You almost took us both down!" You exclaim, scolding him jokingly. He leans in close to you and looks into your eyes as your faces are only a few inches apart now.

"Hey. You know, they say that people fall in love when they accidentally fall on each other?" He teases, trying his best to maintain his balance.

"Who said that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Um, I did..." Miles says nonchalantly with a slight grin on his face, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You laugh, shaking your head once again at his silliness. But you couldn't help but blush slightly. A smile crept onto his lips as he smirks at you. "Oh? Am I making you nervous?" He asks tauntingly. You clear your throat and shake your head.

"No! I could never get nervous around you. Pft..." You say mockingly, but as you're speaking, your voice cracks a bit.

"Oh, is that so?" The grin on his face grew wider, almost as if he knew you weren't telling the truth about not being nervous. "Well, tell that to the blush on your face." He smirks at you before letting go of your shoulders and skating off, as if he never had any trouble before. You watch him, stunned as he doesn't even look unsteady.

"Were you faking the whole time?!" You shout after him in surprise, skating to catch up with him. He turns to face me as he skates ahead of me, skating backwards now. My jaw drops.

"Me? Fake? Never..." He replies with a smug look. "You know, you're cute when you're shocked."

"Oh don't even- That's not true. You said you couldn't skate!" You deflect, pointing a finger at him. As you catch up to him, he turns back forward, smirking at you.

"Never said that. You just assumed I couldn't because I fell earlier." He points out. "Besides, you're so easy to tease. It was very fun seeing your reaction." Miles chuckles.

"Oh, so now you're calling me easy?" You raise an eyebrow at him, hiding a smile.

"Easy to tease. If you were easy to get, I'd have gotten you a while ago. You're really making me work for it, Y/N." He says slyly, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

"What are you talking about?" I question, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, don't act oblivious now. Since you know everything, I bet you've been playing hard to get and you want me to chase you." He replies confidently.

"Ooh, so you're on to me, now? Hm, I guess you're smarter than I thought." You smirk at him and he seems a bit surprised. "Maybe I do want you to chase me, Miles." You give him a wink and skate ahead again. You had him at a loss for words for a moment, but then he skates after you. You both laugh as he tries to grab you and you dodge him.

As you glide across the ice, you lose your balance. But before you fall, Miles catches you and you two are now inches apart. You both stop in the center of the rink, panting softly. A few seconds pass, but no one makes a move. He looks at you and you look back at him. Then you feel his grip on your waist and he pulls you in a little closer. You can feel his breath on your face. It's as if you are the only two in the rink.

Finally, Miles leans in a little further and kisses you softly on the lips. His lips on yours sends a slight tingle up your spine and you feel your heart beat faster as you kiss him back. His hand moves to the back of your neck and he kisses you deeper, putting more passion behind the kiss.

After a few seconds, he pulls back but he still holds you close. As he moves his head away, he looks at you with a small smile on his face. You gaze at each other, both slightly blushing, but not embarrassed at all. Miles looks as if he's about to say something to you, but he's interrupted by one of the skating rink workers.

"Hey! No stopping in place on the ice! Keep it moving." He tells you both.

"Oh! Right, sorry." Miles says to the man before turning back to you. "Let's get outta here." He suggests, grabbing your hand.

"Yeah, let's go." You respond, as he pulls you to the side of the rink. He looks at you once more before he suddenly kisses your cheek.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." He smiles as he sees you blush again.

"Sure, you couldn't." You roll your eyes, stepping off the ice as Miles follows you.

You both leave the rink and head outside, noticing that the sun has set. The cold air is still a bit chilly on your skin, but it's not too bad. You notice that Miles has gotten you to hold his arm as he walks you home, as if he's not letting you go after the kiss that you two shared.

"So... I guess all that chasing wasn't for nothing then, huh?" Miles raises his eyebrows, smirking at you.

"I guess the chase was worth it. You caught your prize, now what?" You reply playfully, looking up at him. He pulls you a little closer and wraps his arms around you.

"Now, I get to keep it," He says as he kisses you gently on the lips. The world around you blurs as Miles kisses you under the soft glow of the streetlights. The snowflakes gently fall around you, creating a magical atmosphere. It's a moment frozen in time, one that you wish could last forever.

After a while, he breaks the kiss and looks at you. He can't keep his eyes off your face, his smile growing as he holds you in his warm embrace. Suddenly, a gentle breeze causes you both to shiver a bit, but the cold doesn't matter to you. All that matters is that you are there with Miles. The two of you start to walk again, Mile's arm around your shoulder as you walk down the street.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Economic Difference Between The Miner and Mine Owner's Daughter

Chapter Three

Based of this ask (the dialogue from there is used here)

Rated Explicit | Warning: period typical sexism, noncon, non-Consensual somnophilia

Ao3

Taglist: @anastasiablossomlove @tfamidoingwithmylife

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

“Finish her off, Norton.”

When he first saw you, he wished you were dead. Just another rich kid with pockets lined with daddy's money. Your fucking suitor laughing as Norton was getting jumped for his lunch. Sickening, the misery of the poor is entertainment for people like you! Laughing as they fight for table scraps, as the poor are willing to do anything to just have a warm bed to sleep on, speaking on behalf of the poor yet none of them ever struggled!

Every day is a fight. Every night is a fight. The moment he was born, his fate was sealed in the black ink signature of your father's name. Norton had no chance, your father stole that from him!

What? Do you think a few shared meals would make him suddenly think differently of you? Ha, no, he meant what he said back then. If things worked his way, you would be on your knees sucking him off while your father grieved seeing his daughter sell herself for his survival.

The nerve you have to spit out that nonsense about change, hah, politicians say anything for some votes. Everyone knows the corporations won't let them actually change things. Too many hands have been greased to change the status quo. 

Nah, the only change he cares about is whether or not he will get out of this debt his father cursed him with by striking it big.

Damn, bastards! Damn all of them to hell and back!

It would be no surprise if they do not find any gold, they use him as a scapegoat. Quick to take the credit, quick to throw to the wolves. Your father will soon be like all the others.

Buried alive. At least in death, everyone is made equal.

Norton’s hands squeezing your throat, a grin on his face seeing you struggle to breathe.

Until your hand touches the scar, soft and gentle, he can see the tears running down the side of your face. Your voice cracks as you beg him to snap out of 

“Norton~,” The purr of the voice in his voice feeds into his anger, “She's right there. Just get rid of her!” Yelling at him.

It will be quick, a snap and all of it will be over.

Yet, he finds himself thinking about the bread you made for him. Yes, it was for him as a gift. Warm, moist, and fresh; all for him with a cup of warm tea.

Your father… You are not like him. Like others who laugh and look down at him, you honestly want to help. Stupid girl, truly, big dreams with no idea how reality works or how this world will chew someone and spit them out.

No good person lives long enough to see the change they fought for happen.

He flinches, you cup the side of his face, “Fight it.” Desperately trying to call out to him. “Please, Norton.”

“Come on, Norton.” Exaggerating the word ‘on’, dragging it out as if bored. “You have an arrogant little flower under you.”

When you approached him, you referred to him as ‘Mr. Campbell’ as if you respected him. It felt like a joke, an insult as you could—should—have been like everyone else. Constantly fighting, struggling, hyper-aware, plotting. He glares down at you, grabbing your hand and slamming it hard on the ground while making sure to have a painful grip on your wrist.

The pained sound you make is music to his ears, the wicked grin on his face growing with 

The rise and fall of your chest makes him very aware of your breasts covered by the blouse. Whenever he sees you around the worksite, you look… Normal. No showy dress, no lace fan (the one you did have you broke), hell, everyone saw you only wear pants. 

But here, right before the end, you are wearing a dress. The sort of dress one wears in the winter, a bright color that greatly contrasts with the current environment.

“Why don't you show this selfish delicate flower how to behave… Hm?” Dragging out the last few syllables as if moaning with excitement.

You have the nerve to smell good too, clean and sweet like a ripe freshly washed fruit.

The fight for air is a struggle he knows you cannot win. Watching your eyes roll back, the small fading gasps for air, and soon your struggling becomes weaker and weaker.

“Nortoooon,” The voice rings in his mind echoing in his own voice, “.... Come on now….” The voice draws him back seeing your life fade by his hand.

Slip you into unconsciousness. Body going slump on the ground, you look peaceful now.

Did he kill you?! Shit, shit, fuck! He shakes you then places his hand over your chest, a sigh of relief as he hears your heartbeat. The twisted thoughts in his mind raced between needing to escape and… And… Your perfume is sweet. Your clothes are so clean. You are like an angel sent from above into this dark hellhole.

The first button is the hardest, his hands are unsteady.

The second button is easier but still hard, the voice tells him to take; after all, your father took everything from him too.

The third button reveals part of your chemise, plain which he supposes he should have expected to not look like one the other miners talk about after a venture into a pleasure den.

The fourth button and the voice is getting angry, yelling at him again to hurry. Norton swears he can feel something moving his arms without him doing anything.

The other buttons are ripped open, his face buried in your neck as he sharply inhales, it is so different from his own skin. Soft, bathed, unmarked.

“Bite. Mark her.”

It speaks and he does it. Each touch of his chapped lips on your flawless skin is marked by his teeth. Some barely barely a mark while others are deep enough to leave dark bruising, those are above your breasts. Your clothes are cumbersome and it is more work to try to remove your clothes in a civilized way rather than ripping them open, but that is what he does.

The personality switch is not instant, it is through the actions he would have never done if not for this damn cave. He was the ripe fruit plucked and feasted upon, his mind slowly corrupted by the abyss he was forced to dig through.

“Fuckin’ hate you wearing these.” The voice is darker, laced with greed and lust, he tears open your bloomers as if it was made of paper. A mess of your clothes half torn and his buckle that decides to be a pain in the ass, not like he can stop himself.

The only moment he stops is when he growls at himself for not knowing what to do, of fucking course he knows the layout of what to do but the fine detail escape him. Worse, the guilt in the back of him is fighting himself right now. Fighting enough that he has to remove a glove, spit on his hand, and jerk himself off.

“Damn you,” Touching your legs, his black dust-covered glove marking your skin, he finds it rather hotter than the bitemarks all over your neck. When he kisses you, oh you taste like something sweet too, he has to stop to cough out his damn lungs. “When I am done with you, you won’t even know how ruined you are going to be.” Exasperated and angry.

When he is hard enough to thrust inside of you, he swears he saw stars. Bliss but you are so tight. Dry too but this is not about you. The scent of blood makes him laugh as you just lost your virginity in a damn coal mine--Blood for blood, justice.

Each thrust is hard because he hates leaving your heat. Your body reacts to him by getting wet, your moans in your current state are low,  his pace is awkward and selfish. This whole situation is selfish. Grabbing everything he can touch about you, kissing you when he needs a taste of you. When he feels himself about to cum, he makes sure it is all over the floor with your blood.

The whole activity was tiring.

The voice is in control, pleased but annoyed as he now has to figure out what to do next. Kill you with the others or… He raises an eyebrow at a bright idea.

[arcanacenturia]

GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS

Something's so not right in S2 though.

The only time we "see" God is whenever she talks to Job and just blabbers stuff at him because she's bored af and doesn't have anybody to speak with except maybe the Metatron.

When Aziraphale tries to talk directly to God in S1, the Metatron tells him "Speaking to me is speaking to God" and categorically refuses to listen to Aziraphale's request.

That's weird. That's so weird.

We have no proof that he's actually relaying all this information to God. She hasn't appeared to anyone in centuries. He's also aware of Aziraphale's will to stop the arma-fucking-geddon.

He's aware of Azi's relation to Crowley.

As I've seen stated somewhere on Tumblr earlier, he's aware that just by trying to perform a teeny tiny miracle together they performed a huge ass one that triggered alarms in Heaven and succeeded in separating the two, because he's aware, and could be scared, of their combined powers.

Okay but why would he need to separate them?

A second too late, he told Aziraphale about The Second Coming, which is most likely linked to a new Armageddon again.

Related to that, we never heard God herself about the destruction of earth. Anything said about it is told by other characters. Note to myself: list up who talked about it.

The Metatron seems to be hiding something. Unlike the other (arch-)angels he's not naïve, he wears a black coat, he doesn't sugarcoat his speech to humans (and my synesthesia says he speaks Spiky, and not a good spiky).

I think it's also noteworthy that Crowley & Aziraphale don't communicate, not with words, Crowley never told Aziraphale about what Gabriel told him but he also never told Aziraphale what he found out about Gabriel in S2. He never told Aziraphale that his bosses were planning to restart Armageddon until Gabriel went Nah, that it's the reason the Metatron demoted him. He demoted the current Prince of Heaven for stopping it, then promoted Aziraphale, who is a lot more tame and also has been a cause of Armagenope to fail, to lead it.

I don't think Crowley fell because he asked questions to God. I think he sauntered vaguely downwards because he asked too many questions to the Metatron, that would put his plan in danger.

This bitch is SHADY AS FUCK and I'm honestly so eager, so curious to see what he (and season 3) is going to bring us. I wonder if he's lived among the humans, too. Besides, I feel like he's going to try (and maybe manage) and use Azi as his marionnette for whatever stuff he's preparing.

And I feel whatever he's preparing is really against God.

Thank you Neil Gaiman for this ending because even if it HURTS it's so interesting. There are so many things that could be going on behind the heartbreak. I could be going on about how Crowley probably even found out part of what happened. I've seen people speculate with good arguments that Crowley lost part of his memory after falling, and if it is the case that could be another thing done to prevent Crowley from stopping the Metatron.

There is SO MUCH that could be, so much that WILL be, and so little that we can know.

No matter in what form, I'm so excited to see how this will develop in the future.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hii ik saw me many times but i love your blog so much about hobie and Miguel i have questions have any hc hobie being west African hc of that been there since watched movie i cannot get it out

I AM GOING TO SCREAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM AT THIS BECAUSE YES YES I CAN

(also sorry if this is kinda Yoruba centric!! cause that's the area I know the best - for reference I myself am Bajan/Quechua (West Indies - Barbados / Indigenous Peruvian))

West African!Hobie Headcanons:

And because I'll never get a chance to talk about this again I'm gonna start off with the one I love most and the one people know most about (and that is demonized - literally - the most)

Hobie and Vodou (aka VooDoo):

Yeah, I said it. Hobie can work. He got juju. He rootworks. He conjures. Whatever iteration, whatever title - if Hobie followed any religion it would either be Buddhism, which some argue that some sects can double as a moral philosophy,

-If he'd respect any religion. It'd be a Traditional African one and I'm putting money on Vodou.

[And heads up, I am not an initiate of Vodou, but I do actively practice African Traditional Spirituality (HooDoo/Rootworking) and Ancestral Worship. So take from that what you will.]

First of all - how punk would that be??? A West African religion demonized by the western world for centuries from Africa to Haiti to Louisiana - that praised ancestral worship and community first???

YES PLEASE. Some people might not really understand all of this but:

First things first, yes, he speaks Yoruba and if you call it 'Speaking African' he's going to flay you alive.

Like????? Hobie sweet talking in Yoruba??? I'll throw my self on the floor right now!!

Hobie practicing ancestor worship - and thanking all the oppressed people who gave their lives and suffered daily so he can live his life?

He'd have an altar in his house, a small one he keeps out of sight, even to Gwen.

Leaves offerings and bits of his meal on the altar. Cause he was once food insecure, but now that things are a little better, he can do that

Like even if he practiced a form of HooDoo or another sect that derives from Traditional African Spirituality (that doesn't involve initiation)

He'd want to give back to his ancestors, learn how to use natural herbs and work them, learning how to make powders, doing floor washes, sweeping a certain way

And having all of these routines related to his African spirituality that are so subtle but he thinks about always

Prays to his ancestors to give him strength when he's struggling with being Spiderpunk

BUT IMAGINE IF HE WAS INTITATED THO ????

Hobie in all white during ceremony???????

HOBIE BEING A CHILD OF SHANGO??????????

NAH THEY AINT READY FOR IT

But even so -whatever Orisha got that boy head be putting in WORK.

And you know he keeps his beads on forever and always even under the suit!!!!

And the style!!! Hobie AfroPunk?!!!

I don't know if they have this elsewhere, but in NYC there's a music festival called AfroPunk - and it's full of black artists, and black people come out in these amazing outfits - and the goal is to incorporate as much African influence as possible

HOBIE WOULD EAT THIS UP.

The inside of his vest being lined with African textile!!

He takes it off in front of you and you see that little pop of that of classic orange-gold color

You just know he's wit it!!!

And the BEADS

(He should wear beads he's royalty compared to the raggedys at HQ)

[Cough] red and white shango beads [Cough]

Imagine Hobie giving his girlfriend a coral bead bracelet too AWWW

And telling them the significance??!!

He loves a woman in a headwrap. GELE ESPECIALLY but any type

And if you wear waistbeads UMMMMMMMM

As soon as he sees it peeking from under your shirt - IT'S GAME OVER

He's gonna wanna test if they working how they supposed to IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW.

AND The FOOD!

First of all - Hobie hates that British manners shit.

Was raised eating with his hands and loves it

He hates old white people who wanna stare cause he eats with his hands

He loves goat. Not me projecting he LOVES goat.

He really appreciates rice based dishes because they can fill you up - and you can't just buy them anywhere

Prefers Waakye to Jollof Rice but still loves Jollof

With FUCK UP some Fufu if he can get it

I say he eats standing up so he's just there at his kitchen counter eating Fufu and the most random shit in his fridge???

Like he'll be eating left over KFC with fufu - like what are you doing??? Thats - not a meal bro

He loves Okra (ew nasty ass) and he'll eat it all the time.

Especially fried okra but okra soup is cool too he's fine with that

His fried plantains go INSANE. They go SO HARD. They're to die for

He always picks the sweetest ones and it cooks them till they're all caramelized and shit YUMMMMM

(can you tell I like my plaintains sweet and soft cause I DO)

Extra Headcanons

He was not playing that when Gwen first came over - as soon as she stepped on the houseboat with shoes he was like "Girl-"

The first time Peter B. heard him speaking Yoruba he went "Wow, Hobie, Your Nigerian is great!"

Hobie, who already hates Peter B, looked at him like he was the dumbest mfer on earth like

'Right, and you speak American, right? Fucking bellend. I hate you. 'Nigerian'. It's Yoruba.'

(He's only saying that cause he hates Peter personally and wants him to have a bad day)

Meanwhile Gwen was nice enough to just ask "What language is that?" (The correct way to do it, do not assume language names like Peter)

First time he went over to Peter B.'s place (on Gwen's insistence), Mary-Jane accidentally swept over his feet before setting her purse on the floor

and in the moment he knew he had to leave.

He's a streetkid, but since he's in the neighborhood so much he has like 45 different women he calls auntie - and they make sure he has good food to eat because 'you are so skinny! you need to eat more.'

He does that auntie shit where you're walking with him and you see someone you know and now they're in a long ass conversation

Or when he says 'goodbye' then stands by the door having a conversation and you're standing there in your coat like....'fam are we out or not cause i can sit back down'.

He always goes to meet the elders of whatever house he's in to introduce himself, very respectful of black elders and enjoys helping old the older black folk in his neighborhood.

He enjoys giving them respect and hearing their stories, helping around the house. Plus he gets great food out of it

ANNDD That's all of them I think!! Sorry if any of these were off the mark - a lot of these are from personal things I know about West Africa and things learned through Spirituality. I hope I got everything okay!

Thanks for this by the way I LOVE Hobie and culture you know he'd be SO proud!!

[If you've read this far - maybe take some time out to learn a bit about African religions - they're beautiful practices (open to black people - we're worshipping black ancestors) - but you can still learn about them and understand how modern culture often demonizes these types of religions. If anything, I hope you learned a little from this! Hoodoo, Vodun (VooDoo), and Santeria (Latino witchcraft) are not scary, dark practices!] And because I spoke about spirituality, imma put this here cause DO not be playing yknowwhatimean

🧿

[daringdaisy]

Rocky Rickaby? Nah more like Rocky Ricky

I had to make a short story for Spanish class near the end of the year. I decided to partner up with a friend, and she asked me about that cat I liked. I'm confused so I ask if she means Rocky. She says yes and that we should write a story based off him(I ended up writing most of it). Please enjoy this obnoxiously silly story that follows a bootleg Rocky

Once upon a time, there was a cat named Rocky, a violin playing traveler. Everywhere Rocky went, he tried to enlighten people with his beautiful melodies, but no one took him seriously. He was born to be a violinist, but was forced to be a cat.

One night, while he was sadly playing his violin on a bridge, he began to cry, and it fell into the river. Suddenly, a bubble formed and began to float towards Rocky. Surprised, he started to back away, but the bubble was coming straight towards him. Suddenly, the bubble burst into a thousand pieces and formed a beautiful queen (a female cat). However, this she wasn't just any queen, she had crystal-like fairy wings and a white ballgown that looked like it was made of silk daisy petals. She had divine golden fur covered in black and brown spots. She looked to Rocky and said,

"I will grant you three wishes."

Rocky was surprised that he had never heard such an offer. The fairy continued:

“But no wishing for more wishes, you cannot wish for more lives and you cannot change your physical form.”

Rocky nodded and contemplated for a few seconds. Finally, Rocky meowed and made his first wish. The fairy nodded and raised his wand.

"If you wish to speak, then speak you will."

A beam of flashes shot Rocky and he fell onto the cold, metal bridge.

"OW!"

Rocky's paw covered his mouth. He just said his first word. Before he could thank the fairy, she was nowhere to be seen. He runs to the bar and sneaks in through the open window. He walks up the stairs to the empty stage.

When he comes out on stage there is a mix of gasps and cheers. The sounds of glass bottles crashing against tables before an awkward silence fills the room. Rocky picked up his violin and began to play one of his original tunes. However, before he got very far, the bartender came up on stage and grabbed him by the back of his neck.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can't play here?” the bartender questioned. What he didn't expect was to hear an enthusiastic, booming voice.

"Well, sir, if you would allow me to give you my rhythmic tunes for everyone’s entertainment tonight, I would change that feeble mind of yours," Rocky announced with a toothy grin.

The next thing he knows, he is thrown out the window and scurried under a cardboard box.

"Well, I'm not too surprised, but my heart is still full of disappointment," Rocky mutters, "I guess I'll have to try my luck again tomorrow." And with that, he slowly falls asleep.

A couple of nights later, Rocky returned to the bridge. He is enthusiastically reciting some poetry under the full moon with his new gift to a sweet melody from his violin.

“Old River! That seems far too austere a name for something made of mirth and rage. O-roiling red blood river vei…” "It's good to see you again, Rocky!" The fairy suddenly clapped her hands with joy.

“AH-” Rocky jumped, he was barely able to keep his balance on the railing. He takes a second to catch his breath before shakily responds, "Pleasure is all mi…"

The fairy interrupts abruptly and asks, "Have you thought about your second wish?"

Rocky announced confidently, "I wish I had some clothes."

“Can I do whatever I want?” The fairy questions

He shrugs, "I'm not particularly picky about this, but at least make it classy."

A glitter ball hit him and he was wearing a blue suit, an orange suit, a daisy in his breast pocket, and dress shoes. Before he could thank the fairy, she was gone.

Rocky runs to the bar once more and sneaks through the window again. He makes sure the waiter is out of sight and secretly goes on stage. The bar goes silent as they hear Rocky start playing. They don't laugh at him or wonder why he's there, they just listen. Rocky, pleasantly surprised, puts his heart and soul into his first real performance.

The final note is played and Rocky looks out at the crowd with a confident smile, despite his nervousness. The bar roars with cheers and applause, a first for Rocky. Rocky bows, soaking up the attention he's been craving for so long.

After that performance, he was allowed to live in the bar on the condition that he played his majestic music every night. Rocky enjoyed it at first, but quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to share his music with everyone if he just played at the bar only.

He decides to go to the old bridge to think about his next course of action. While he was deep in thought, the fairy sat next to him: "So, what is your last wish?" Rocky turns to her with a smile: “My last wish is to enlighten the whole world with my music!”

[a-hobit]

Since Luz and Hunter in your switched AU are born in 1600s colonial America and Luz clearly speaks Spanish in the AU (shown in a comic) and is Latina (specifically Dominican) in show cannon, is there any history stuff you’re adhering especially considering the differences between Spanish and English colonies in location and demographic or are you ✨going rogue?✨ Is Luz an indigenous-Spanish mix like many Latinos are today? How would she have gotten to mainland since a lot of Spanish claim was in the Caribbean or Florida and treatment of indigenous people by Europeans, specifically Spanish and British, was notoriously brutal? Sorry if I’m absolutely overthinking this. This is coming from a history nerd, so I’m just curious how that’s going to work considering the realities of racial divides in colonial settlements during 1600s America and the relatively small number of Spanish people that actually would’ve lived there by then. AGAIN SORRY IF I’M OVERTHINKING IT I’M JUST A NERD FEEL FREE TO JUST BE LIKE “NAH.”

OH btw, I noticed a comment in a comic that implied trans Hunter and just wanted to mention that there’s some super interesting accounts of LGBTQIA+ people from the time period if you’re interested. I know of a fan work about Caleb and Phillip where Caleb is trans that covers that extensively if you want a link.

I LOVE ASKS LIKE THIS ANON!! Because IM overthinking it but at least someone else is too! So there's a lot I can't answer due to spoilers -- and I actually will be explaining a fair bit because I just am so charmed at how we are so on the same wavelength here so if you don't want to not know literally anything even a little bit spoilery about Luz or Hunter before the comic comes out I would ignore this ask! -- but I will go into some of it!

Okay! So I tossed and turned on this exact issue for FUCKING MONTHS. Go rouge or loophole? How historically accurate did I want to go with this concept and how much of that accuracy am I sacrificing for just needing something to be a certain way? Do I want to be as accurate as possible or have a cohesive and interesting story?

The answer is a little bit of both! Im much more of an art history nerd than a straight up history nerd but I have my moments! I love the sociopolitical conundrum having a latina Dominican (ALSO half black! Love that about her but SO hard to write in!) girl in 1600s America because it can be as little or as highly complicated as you can get. I drew a lot of inspiration for a long few months pouring over what groups of people were where and when -- what languages they spoke -- wether the books that I could find could describe a day to day of these people rather than just political conflicts.

Footnote : There are certain Native American groups so fucking overlooked that they don't even have ONE BOOK of comprehensive (non war centered) history that isn't a four year old reading level. I looked for WEEKS. I tried everywhere and was even willing to start to buy reading material but it just doesn't exist? Especially around the original colonies????? HOW!! People around me started telling me I should write a book because of how much I was obsessing over it and trying to find any information but no books can be written on close to NONEXISTENT historical writings! OKAY BACK TO IT--

I looked out for the first sightings of Spanish in the west and where they were headed -- wether or not any Spanish broke away from the group to have children with the Native Americans in the area at the right time -- what the political state was between Britain and Spain -- did they occupy the same or around the same places close enough I could fudge it? Were they friendly toward each other? When were slaves from other countries brought to America? What languages would they have spoken and is there a good translator online? What kind of spanglish can come from Angola, Umbundu and Spanish speakers at the time? Or would it be spanglish with Portuguese because of who was controlling the slave trade at the time?

Tearing out my hair and a hundred more google searches later I decided it wasn't worth the misrepresentation of both languages to try and include either of them mixed together in that way in the whole comic-- just bits and pieces separate for my sanity -- although I WILL get some cultural things in there I promise!

Some things just can not stay historically accurate and one of those things is speech. That was the first thing -- so damn difficult to really pin it down properly in the older dialects so I just had to sadly put that away first. All of the languages written about will be mostly modern versions, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and others but while keeping in mind the time frame.

Next I obsessed about when and where exactly would culture mixing begin and if the people stayed in the same spots! Also unfortunate ( for this AU purpose only! )that most of the Spanish went down and not into the Americas but history will be what it is.

SO

I decided that what I was going to do is make it up a little using a lot of historical context available instead of switching up Luz's race in a serious way to make the accuracy better -- I was going to have things happen MUCH sooner. Like 2 or 3 generations sooner. The Native Americans and Spanish populate together in 1500 ish instead of 1700 or 1800. I GET THIS IS REALLY INACCURATE but it was so fucking impossible to do anything else without getting into things I didn't want to do. The British get there the same time as usual and start the colonies in the 1600s but the Spanish are already moving up into North America and have already spent a lot of time with the Native Americans there at the time. SO that means that Luz is able to have a Native Mexican/ Native American AND Spanish mix at the time of the AU start and be similar to how the population became around now -- my dad inspired this! He's got the same mix himself and I loved that I could pull from that. It's such an interesting genetic tree honestly -- there's a lot of seriously horrible things that happened do not get me wrong -- but the history is amazing.

Luz being half black however feels similarly difficult but it follows the same principles of things with everyone who is not British making things happen much earlier. Africans come to America ( Horrifically and brutally I want to make that very clear) and some in real life of course make their way out of that brutality and hide away from the British and the Spanish...with who? The mixed Natives and Spaniards. Couple of generations later and we have a beautiful mixed pot like the America we see today but hundreds of years early that allows me to keep my afro Latina!! Hunter eventually finds this group that has naturally traveled up into where the british are setting up their first settlements in Virginia and joins them for reasons I can not explain!

THANK YOU for letting me ramble about all this rich history it is incredible.

ALSO I love trans Hunter HC and I do a lot of it myself but in this comic Hunter is cisgender. ( BUT seriously if you wanna hc Hunter as trans in my story I would love it -- trans fem or masc because Hunter is one of the transest coded characters ever) Because both him and Luz are attracted to the same and opposite sex I will still be able to explore certain LGBTQIA+ issues as well!

(DISCLAIMER : Listen I completely understand if this switching around might feel tone deaf to some people but I do not intend to shy away from the brutality of the past or give it a nicer spin -- but this is not a comic focused on the nitty gritty details of the world that Luz and Hunter come from but a focus on the nastiness that comes from later in their lives in Gravesfeild and the witch trials. To have this happen and keep all characters relatively the same I had to do a lot of background but It is worth it to keep these characters with their integrity intact)