#feel like ive been fucking ditched to handle this on my own

[lemmetreatya]

In Words I struggle to Express — Bassists!Onyankopon x Singer!fem Reader

➡️ synopsis: the launch party went absolutely great and the after partys going to be even better! but somehow, it was a certain someone’s presence you were banking on in order for the night to truly be a success.

➡️ word count: 2.3k

➡️ content: no warnings

➡️ author’s note: fuck. okay. this is…very very self indulgent and basically based off our silly little mmbcu (dont ask) so ive tried to take out all the stuff that needs context so everyone can read it without too much issue. however for clarities sake: reader is in a girl group (called MMB) whilst reiner (drummer), zeke (vocalist), jean (vocals/guitar) and onyankopon (bassist) are in a band. at this point of time, Ony and reader aren’t in an established relationship.

if anything, id like to thank @pisspope for coming up with this specific idea earlier this week. i hope you know it’s rotted my brain ever since. thanks.

It was a success.

After months of constant tweaking, track ditching, debating lineups and self-doubt in your artistry — at final last: You had performed your album in full for your ceiling-packed launch party of family, friends and industry names alike.

Despite the shortcomings that came along with it, you hope the album lands well as it goes public tomorrow. Your band members have done their best in assuring you of it’s legendary status (“It literally serves cunt, you’ll be fine.”) and so there was only room for you to have faith that it’d do numbers — even if it was a diversion from your usual group's musical sound.

But even now, as the dregs of adrenaline still coarse through your veins, it’s just you left alone in the green room. You were only in the process of changing outfits, silk pink gown snuggly sat on your frame, but it was the creepinks of wallowing unfulfillment that somehow found its way into your heart.

Your band members and their other halves have graciously said that they’d set forwards on to the afterparty. Something about being ready to welcome you when you eventually do enter the venue where the after party was being held. You were okay with that — and thankful that they were thinking of you in that regard — but since it now left you alone with your own thoughts and own reflection in the mirror, you could feel your performing high start to come down and realisation kick in. That ultimately, despite the many wins you’ve received tonight, you were still alone.

“Can I come in?”

Rather than it being the knock, it was the steady voice you were oh so used to that reeled you out of your trance, your eyes finally locking back into focus. As you turn your head away from your reflection and into his direction, you could automatically feel your heart pick up pace.

“Well, doors open and you’re already halfway in so…”

A breathy excuse of a laugh leaves your throat — a sorry attempt at making yourself seem more pious for him than you actually were — but it was absolutely no help at all. Within his presence, you only ever felt more anxious than you should.

Onyankopon tries his best to force a laugh back but it doesn’t translate well. It seemed pained, even more forced than yours, and so you had to avert your eyes —  Save yourself from reading into something you didn’t want to.

You had to do that more for you than for him anyways. Because it’s been iffy with Onyankopon these past few months and with how he’s been treating you.

Not that you were complaining; He was a man who treated you to nice things and valued your opinion. A man who understood when you needed to be handled or when you could handle your own. A man who also understood your craft and was more than happy to aid his own. It was all well and good between the both of you and he was a gentleman wrapped in one. Only issue is that Onyankopon has never clarified what the fuck you two were.

Which, in itself, was off-putting. But concerning he had so much creative process on your album? (Actually, most of his band did, but since you possibly liked him just a tad bit better, his efforts were well more noticed) And considering you had to stick so many unsolicited hard hours alongside him? And keeping in mind how you were practically eye fucking him from the stage half the time you were performing your album — the sultry songs all directed at him?! You figured he’d somehow get the hint that you were open, willing, waiting for him to make a move.

As he cautiously took further steps into the room, you wonder if your requested audience would result in pushing him to make that move.

“I won’t take up too much of your time.” He hums with one arm suspiciously behind his back. 

He attempts to clear his throat yet he’s unable to do so the first time. It takes him several goes, a cough and a bat at his chest, before he’s able to achieve his goal. By now he just feels stupid, fumbling something as simple as this in front of you but he chooses to champion on.

You however, can’t help but find it endearing.

“No, you’re good. Still got a few minutes till we’re heading to the Ritz for the after party.”

You turn around in your chair, silk gown that crosses over the intersection of your chest one tug away from being labelled ‘provocative’. Unintentionally, but definitely welcomed.

“You coming, right?”

And you know you’ve tempted him — far more than you should be — because Onyankopon’s eyes automatically wander to the exposed skin of your chest. Stare locked on for several seconds before he’s forced to recognise his error and flick his eyes back up to meet yours.

“I…not this time.” He clears his throat again. “Which is mainly why I wanted to come see you now since I won’t see you after this.”

“Oh…”

You try your best not to look disappointed; for your shoulders not to sag and your bottom lip to stay free of being snagged between your teeth but it’s inevitable to stop the way your heart sinks halfway down your chest and your gut wretches inwards.

Right, of course. He was a busy man.

In your head, you know he probably had good reason to skip out on this big night of yours, but you can’t help the small teasing voice that reminds you that every one of his bandmates found a way to clear their schedules in order to make the party tonight. Everyone but him.

Subconsciously you tug the material of your gown over your chest.

“Maybe next time then.” You feign. Suddenly you don’t feel enthusiastic for your own event.

Onyankopon knows he’s fucked up your mood and he’s mentally kicking himself for doing so. Personally, he wasn’t going to say anything— just not show up and let you enjoy your time without him. But it’s Reiner, the drummer of their band, who nudged him to at least apologise for not coming.

Actually, Reiner nudged him to say a lot more than just his apologies for not being able to make the after party. He had berated Onyankopon in wisdolic manner about asking you out properly as opposed to keeping you exclusively on his arm. A proverb about ‘hope deferred making the heart sick’, “And you don’t want her to be sick because of you, do you?” He warned. 

In all honesty, he didn’t hate what Reiner was saying. He really did want to make a move on you! And he genuinely had the intention to as well. He also thought it’d be ideal to ask you out considering he was very much planning on taking you to go meet his parents soon but…

It just wasn’t the right time.

“It’s never the right time, is it?” Says a more nihilistic voice in his head, but he ignores it for sanity’s sake.

Onyankopon shuffles his footing.

“I’m sorry. Something really important popped up and you know I’d usually be there and…Look, I just wanted to come see you and mention you were really great out there. I know we, well, more you, worked really hard on this album and all but I genuinely just want to say that I’m really, really, proud of you.”

There’s a twitch of recognition on your face but the man’s rambled words did nothing to lighten your mood. You only turn your head back to your reflection in the mirror.

“Thank you, Onyankpon.”

Okay, you’re using his full name. That’s how he knows you’re upset at him.

Now he’s regretting even coming here. Onyankopon doesn’t want to go round blaming Reiner for your lack of reaction to him but deep down, he knows that’s all him. He knows that either way, mentioned or not, his absence would have upset you. He doesn’t want to now give you even more reason to be upset so he guesses he should start wrapping this up. 

“Congratulations on the album launch. That was the main thing I wanted to say. I should have started with that first…���

With an outstretched arm from behind his back, Onyankopon offers you a box of luxury chocolates and a freshly picked bouquet he could fit all in one hand. In all honesty, he would have definitely gotten you something bigger, better than you could have ever imagined! 

But, he just didn’t have the time. 

“You never have the time—“ “Shut up. I know.” The voice in his head is cut short. 

However, contrary to the heart felt gift, it seems your attention can no longer be brought. Despite his presentation, your expression is fixed and occupied on your reflection. Onyankopon suddenly wonders whether you were always this down when he wasn’t around. 

You sniff once but not because any tears were about to grace your face. 

“Thanks.” You say without looking back at him. “You can put ‘em over there with the others.”

Onyankopon’s gaze follows where your eye line draws to within the mirror. 

Sure enough, towards the side of the room there's a table where a mountain of gifts, flowers and congratulatory efforts lay. Onyankopon takes two steps towards it before sheepishly laying down his now rather measly looking present within the only sliver of table available. 

If he didn’t feel so out of depth with you, he would have dryly laughed at how low effort his offering was in contrast to Jean’s, his band’s guitarist. 

As he could see, the man had brought you an expensive bag bouquet — a gift extravagant enough to take up half the wall behind it. There was even a large bottle of champagne and a D’usse that tagged along with it and a card that had your stage name curved in beautiful calligraphy. 

You and Jean didn’t share a relationship anywhere as near as efficient as you and Onyankopon’s to warrant this type of gift, but he guesses his bandmate took great pride in the help he had on your album. Onyankopon even feels a sense of irate jealousy as he remembers how the two of you danced back-to-back on stage as Jean played his guitar solo during your final song. 

His throat runs dry at memory recall of the performative sight. Surely, all of that was to provoke him. 

“Sorry.” You suddenly blurt out and Onyankopon’s attention is instantly brought back to you — the physical you. 

“I kinda need to get ready now. Vans almost in front.” You drastically avoid his eye contact. “If I could just have these last few minutes alone that’d be great.”

With your last sentence mumbled and your hands playing at your gown, he knows you’re not telling the whole truth but he was honestly out of his depth here. All Onyankopon could do was fulfil your wishes. 

“O-oh! Oh, sure! Sure, yeah I’ll let you…I’ll let you get to it.”

With almost bashful demeanour, Onyankopon backs away from the table and makes a beeline towards the door. 

But it feels wrong. It feels incomplete. 

It’s not like he wanted to force himself against your boundaries but he just knows that if he leaves now without saying anything — he might just wound your ebbing relationship beyond repair. 

In some sort of divine intervention, Reiner’s words about not being the ‘hope deferred’ that resulted in making you sick, kicked in. As soon as the phrase comes to him, a looped smile starts to grow onto his face. 

“Now's the time!” His inner head voice says and for once, he lets it speak. 

Stopping in his tracks, Onyankopon mentally gears his courage up before turning on his heels and blurting out the first thing that came up his throat.  

“Hey, uh…look, I really do feel bad about not being able to make tonight. I wanna make it up to you so how’s your availability for the day after tomorrow?”

You’re surprised by his offer but you don’t wholly show it. It’s the way you pretend that his preposition didn’t excite you that made Onyankopon want to burst out in laughter. You were so cute when you were trying to be aloof. 

“Depends.” You shrug as your eyes actively avoid his. “I have an early morning promo interview for the album and my evenings fully booked.”

Onyankopon enthusiastically nods. 

It made sense you were busy concerning the work needed to be done for your album drop but Onyankopon was determined. Onyankopon wanted to make this work! 

“Okay, that’s fine. How’s lunch time for you?”

There is a look of ponder on your face and a sparkle in your eye. You roll your lips in contemplation before quote mark nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Relatively free.” You quip. 

Yes!

“Great! Leave it open for me. I’ll take you out on a date.”

Onyankopon is pumped enough that he’s already heading out the green room and so you get up from your chair to shout after him.

“Wait— Ony, to where?”

The man turns round to face you, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Not the most infectious smile but it’s his and so automatically, you’re drawn to it. 

“Don’t worry about that. Just dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up from whatever studio you’re recording at.” He says before making his way out. 

With a huff of disbelief, you sag back down into the chair. 

It wasn’t unbelievable that within the spur of the moment, Onyankopon had thought up a date to take you to. He was like that — It was kinda his thing — but there was something about this particular mystery date that you found yourself looking forward to. 

The same smile from before grew larger on your face and your reflection in the mirror relayed the same message. 

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so down anymore.  

[serene-sun]

Ok so my decision that won’t effect y’all is that I’ve come to terms that I need a break from music. Not entirely, but I feel like I’m not going anywhere vocally, I’m staying on the same level, I’m not getting better nor worse. And I’m tired of all of the cons that come with being in charge of it. Not that it’s too much to handle, it’s that I already have two other things I take really seriously and I’m not going to do something if I’ll just half ass it. If I do something than I’m committing and I’m going to make it 100% perfect. Yeah sure I worked hard to make this band, but it’s not like everything we’ve done will go away. Besides, we don’t exactly have “fans”. I mean yes, we do, but the people who come to the shows are just there to jam out bc it’s something you can bang your head too, but nobody is going because they’re a die hard fan who would have a poster of us in their room. And it sucks bc that’s what I wanted when I started it bc I had that dream of 80’s rock band that does dumb shit, I think the only thing we accomplished was doing dumb shit and letting creativity flow. I don’t think that it’s necessarily a bad thing that I’m ending it? We all kinda want to go our own ways and sprout, bc it was me who wrote all the songs so what was really the point? I don’t want to restrict anyone from letting their own flow, flow into someone else’s flow and starting a new flow, so I’m going my own flow. I have allot of reasons for this, but it feels the best option. Besides, bands you start in the high school band room…don’t ever last that long. I can already sense that we want to part ways, since everyone is kinda moving out (thank the gods that the apartment is in my name holy mother I’m not moving again in this state of economy). I’ve also already been invited to join another band on guitar so I think that it’s best for everyone to take a step further. I do feel bad, bc I don’t want it to make it seem like I’m throwing them under the bus and ditching them. But I need to take a break from writing, experimenting, and management because I’m really trying to go all out in school/work. Im done with community college so now I’m going to the “grown up school”. Im already and intern at my dream job thanks to my grades and profile, I’m glad they looked over the 1 misdemeanor in my resume 😅 IVE BEEN A GOOD BOY. Anyways, and im so fucking pissed I ended the year with 2 B’s, even if they were high. I have to be perfect no matter what, I don’t care if “oh your perfect the way you are” this and “don’t be hard on yourself” that. If you don’t give yourself a constant conflict or challenge, than how will you get stronger? If you want to pass a goal, you have to know how to! But I’m really excited for school to start again bc I think I’m the only one who actually enjoys learning now a days. And the further and better I do in college is the faster I climb up the ranks at work, I’m so close to getting my spot. I still have allot of time left tho, 9 years until I get my doctorate so ugh I’m impatient af. But either way, I’m just excited that we all get to do something with our life’s now. It’s something new, and I’ll be with new people. These guys travel in a charter bus…how did I get here?

Anyways, that’s todays ramble…and it’s just 7:40am

[hipsofsteel]

tbh rn i just really need to scream bc im upset at everything

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

[sapphic-sasuke]

So i was watching those fillers about kakashi’s anbu days and an question came to my mind Why did tachi directly choose to kill the clan instead of trying to warn their parents and/or the uchiha clan first did he think they were too prideful to back down or completely leave the village or maybe he didn’t trust his OWN family

I mean if i was in that kinda of a situation (or heck even in any kinda of situation) the first thing I would’ve done; go to mom dad warn them/ask them what should i do, what should ‘we’ do and cannonically speaking itachi was 13 at the time and fugaku really seemed to be the most reasonable person to go to(while other uchihas were unnecessary being harsh to civilians during taking them into custody fugaku was the one to warn them) so itachi either, A) was kinda of an idiot who didn’t really think things through (wich I don’t think so cause he was supposed to be a genius at the very least a very smart person) or B) he was so arrogant thet he thought (an exceptional 13yo kid A FUCKING CHILD) he might be more suited and experienced! to handle the coup instead of going to his parents and I know ppl say that he got manipulated n stuff but c’mon wasn’t he basically the king of manipulation I don’t understand how he couldn’t thought anything besides killing everyone, wouldn’t taking sasuke and running should’ve been an option to what do you think

Also sorry for the long ass ask and I just realized ur one of my favorite fics authors i hope u update looking for forgiveness soon didn’t read such a good fan fic in a while i like ur writing sm <3

HI!! don’t ever feel sorry for long asks i love reading long stuff . and AHHH WOW thank you so much i do plan to update my fic very soon. the chapters almost done but i had some rly funky writer’s block hope u like it <3

no ur so right anon the way itachi handled the massacre was so strange? and that’s why i like to headcanon that itachi had a really strained relationship with his parents (albeit slightly better with fugaku) where he never came to them with any of his emotions/problems growing up and internalised that until the massacre. i think the second option is more probable. we know he didn’t like most of the clan members and we even see him fighting some. what with all his achievements as a shinobi and his anbu status, itachi seems like the kind of person.

i think taking sasuke and running away would have halted the coup, with the clan heir and second son gone, however i am of the belief that the coup would have been inevitable. maybe due to strained relations or danzo’s machinations, konoha doesn’t help out much with trying to find itachi and sasuke and that increases tensions even further. we know that uchihas love fiercely and it could even lead to the clan more determined to go forward with the coup and then use further resources to find sasuke and itachi. it seems like a short term solution to marginalisation that’s been simmering for decades. it’s a far better alternative to him outright committing genocide however.

maybe itachi did think telling them he was being pressured into killing the clan would have gone badly. he’s very against the coup and has made this clear with his antagonistic actions after shisui’s death. i’m almost certain people in the clan didn’t trust him at all. he was definitely of the belief that more vocal members of the clan would use that as a further incentive to go ahead with the coup, even kill danzo and the elders. (danzo’s root however would be a major obstacle)

i think fugaku would have listened to itachi though. the uchiha coup is one that could be interpreted as a last ditch retaliation from a clan who were shoved to a corner. fugaku clearly loves the village—the coup was intended to be bloodless if it went according to plan. the elders wouldn’t even be aware of it if itachi stayed silent. (but i do think the other clans would not support an uchiha hokage because their reputation worsened after the kyuubi attack) and let’s be real, the elders were insanely corrupt. (but I am of the belief the corruption is only possible because of the shinobi system in place but then that’s a whoooole other topic) itachi’s spy status already puts him as a traitor to the clan which would be a huge betrayal for fugaku who believed in itachi when others didn’t. itachi would be disgraced by his people for even being considered as someone who would be asked to kill them, you know? in that sense, itachi must have seen everything as a lose-lose scenario and went with the option that wouldn’t hinder konoha that much and as such the “peace”

leaving the village is an interesting option. i feel like unless the uchiha clan find a secure place to hide (they do have those hideouts) that ultimately konoha is the safest bet for them at the moment but the possibility of even konoha being unsafe is very real with the threat of danzo. the fact that the elders even considered genocide shows the uchiha’s standing in konoha. hidden villages must have loads of safety measures in place to stop shit like kidnappings for bloodline limits (hinata’s kidnapping attempt was only possible to happen because of the treaty being signed) and state secrets, that i’m sure the uchiha clan have. in short, the uchiha are way too intergreted into the village’s foundations to simply leave without repercussions. it’s interesting because they aren’t actually intergreted into the village at all. i’m sure they don’t know that many actual secrets about the village. they aren’t trusted—tobirama mentions this. but if they ever decided to turn against konoha or join another village their insight into how konoha shinobi and clans work as previous comrades would be invaluable. essentially, the only way for the uchiha clan to survive if they decide to leave would be to go into hiding, really insane crazy genjutsu hiding (which i believe is possible with such a strong clan) in that case, then Yes, the uchiha clan leaving would work. but i think itachi’s of the belief that uchiha pride would prevent them from ever considering hiding. so i’m more inclined to agree with the second option B

the genocide just doesn’t fit with a child who supposedly loves his clan. you don’t kill a clan you love for the village. moral standing aside, solving peace with violence isn’t peace. how can he call himself a pacifist but then have so much faith in the system he’s willing to kill his own people for it? i’s stupidity. there’s so many inconsistencies to itachi’s character because if he really did all of this for sasuke then why torture him? that’s unnecessary mental damage. he could invoke hatred without torture. he’s stated to have the wisdom of a kage at 7 but then makes really stupid decisions that don’t fit in with his whole master manipulator like you mentioned. with all of this ive just come to the conclusion that itachi was probably originally intended to be an antagonist but shit Happened like a popularity jump or smth and suddenly the narrative’s calling him a hero lmao, way to go against the original anti establishment themes from part 1 naruto kishi u bum

this got long really fast omg im sorry? but i hope my insight helped in some way? (or not i tend to ramble a Looooot) anyways ty for the ask i could honestly talk about the uchiha clan all day

[toosicktoocare]

Prompt:  this might be too vague but how about sick dick or jason (your pick, i'm fine with either) hiding it from bruce on patrol bc things are really bad between them at the moment

Catch me flying with the typical Jason is still A+ Bitter at Bruce

With the recent rise in aggravated incidents in Crime Alley, Jason’s been forced to share his patrols with the bats, an idea he violently fought against until Alfred stepped in, the calm, steady voice of reason, and insisted it was necessary for his safety.

Monday he had Dick, and things were... okay. Dick’s face is plastered beside the definition of “handful,” but he knows how to respect Jason’s patrol strategies, following wordlessly and only helping when needed. On Tuesday, Tim proved similar to Dick, his maturity blossoming. Though, he asked more questions, weirdly curious about Jason’s lingering effects of the Lazarus Pit. Jason answered each, hoping his short, clipped replies would hush the replacement because his head was starting to pound along each question.

Jason wasn’t surprised to see Damian on Wednesday, but he was definitely annoyed. He had woken up with a splitting headache that seemed to bleed down to his muscles, pushing against them. He thought, at first, it was a migraine, but the pain in his head was different and accompanied with a flushing fever heat that colored his cheeks. He said nothing to Damian, and Damian merely scoffed and disappeared to navigate Crime Alley areas alone. Jason let him, going off on his own as well, and they met up to one-word debrief before parting ways for the night.

When Jason shoots his grapple hook to the edge of a rooftop on Thursday, he expects to find Dick again. Maybe Cass. What he doesn’t expect is to see the unwanted, annoyingly familiar, brooding shadow of Batman standing atop the roof, arms crossed, mouth flat.

Jason’s stomach drops, and he stumbles his landing, catching himself with a hushed curse. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Bruce sighs, fingers visibly digging a little harder into his arms. “Language, Hood.”

“This is my territory,” Jason spits back. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want. Why are you here? Doesn’t Batman have bigger things to do?” Saying ‘Batman’ aloud leaves a sour taste atop Jason’s tongue, a bitter word that plays with the dull burn of the Lazarus Pit.

Since Jason’s return to Gotham, Bruce has been trying to reconcile, but Jason’s not willing to forgive and forget. He’ll try with the others, more so because they are annoyingly persistent, but not with Bruce. He can’t wrap his mind around forgiving Bruce for letting him die, for letting the Joker continue to breathe while he took his first last breath.

“I want to be here.”

“That’s fucking gold,” Jason rolls his eyes and turns away, absently coughing into his fist as he scans his rapid departure. The coughing’s a new development, only just testing his lungs when he woke this morning, but the headache’s remained, a steady, pulsing thump that his repeated consumption of pain killers can’t seem to touch. He doesn’t need a thermometer to know he’s running a fever; he’s got the inconsistent jumping from boiling hot to freezing cold to supply that for him.

“Jay-”

“Code names, Batman,” Jason growls before he shoots his grapple hook to a rooftop adjacent to them, moving along the sudden pull of weightlessness until his feet are thumping atop the next roof. He breaks out into a run, falling into a pattern of leaping over smaller gaps and grapple hooking over larger ones, all to ditch Bruce. His muscles are trembling from the sudden exertion, but he feeds off of the pain, pushing himself harder and harder when he hears Bruce not far behind him.

He only stops when he hears a woman scream from below, skidding to an unsteady stop and peering over a roof edge just as Bruce lands heavily beside him.

“Muggers.”

“No shit,” Jason grumbles, already bracing to leap off the building. “Do me a favor? Stay the fuck out of my way.” He jumps to the sound of Bruce’s strangled “Jay,” ignoring it as he grabs a fire escape to soften his fall. He lands strategically between the two muggers and a young woman.

“Today’s your lucky day, gentlemen.” Jason smiles sharply under his mask. “I’m in a really shitty mood, so I’ll make this quick.” His fist moves on its own, and he allows the aggravation to bleed to a dull rage that pushes his punches, plants his feet, and pulls his dodges. In just a minute, the two muggers are unconscious at his feet, and the woman’s running from the scene, stopping only when Batman drops to the ground in front of her and talks her into staying to give a statement to the GCPD.

Jason’s already shooting back up to the next rooftop, and his lungs quake against a bursting fit of coughs the second his feet make a rough landing. He coughs into his helmet, his chest shaking, but he forces a steady breath when Bruce drops beside him. Though, it takes more blinking then he expects to clear his wavering vision.

“Do you plan on following me all night?” Jason questions, tired and far too hot under his suit. “I don’t need my territory associating the Red Hood with Batman. I have a reputation, and you’re going to fuck that up for me.”

“I’m here to help.”

“You can help on the East side of Crime Alley,” Jason mutters, a few, weaker coughs slipping past his lips. “I’ll handle the rest.” He drops to a landing below him, leaping over to the roof of a convenience store, and his legs buckle on the landing. He falls to his knees, his vision swimming faintly, and he unconsciously taps into the deep-rooted burn of the Lazarus Pit when Bruce drops beside him, one hand frozen mid-reach toward Jason’s back.

“What part,” Jason growls, coughing hollowly around each word, “of fuck off isn’t clicking in that empty skull of yours?” He’s shaking despite the heat gripping at his bones, and he clumsily undos the lock on his helmet, sucking in a ragged breath when his burning face is exposed to the cool wind.

“Jay?”

“Jesus Christ, B,” Jason spits out, forcing himself to his feet and slapping Bruce’s hand away. “Just fucking go.” His throat’s burning, and his head feels oddly heavy despite the absence of his helmet. The skin across his face is so hot it’s practically itching, and he rips at his domino, squeezing it in his fist when Bruce frowns deeply at him.

“Jason? What’s wrong?”

Jason laughs, and his laugh gives way to a few, chesty coughs that rattle his lungs. His vision is graying at the edges, and he hastily rubs at his eyes. “What’s wrong is I’m tired of you and the fucking peanut gallery clinging to me like fucking leeches!” He’s faintly aware that he’s breathing too fast, and he’s impossibly hot. He swipes at his eyes again, but his vision only darkens. He’s fading, and yet, his body is mingling with panic.

He feels Bruce slip and ungloved hand across his forehead, and he tries to jerk away from it, but Bruce keeps him in place with his other hand wrapped tightly around his arm.

“Jason, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say?”

Bruce’s classic growl, Jason thinks, is wavering? He’s not sure because his ears are ringing. “Because it’s not your fucking busin-” Jason stops, his mouth forming a round ‘oh’ right as his vision goes black.

***

Bruce catches Jason as he falls, and he swallows back the panic threateninng to cripple him as he taps his comm, rattling off his coordinates. “Who is closest?”

“I am,” Dick chimes in after a moment. “I can be there in five. What’s up?”

“I need to get Jason back to the manor. Do you think you can cover the Alley alone tonight?”

“Of course, but what’s up, B? Is Jason okay?”

“No,” Bruce whispers, smoothing a shaking palm to Jason’s burning forehead. “But he will be.”

***

Jason’s entire body feels impossibly heavy, so heavy that he struggles to open his eyes, mind briefly flicking toward panic at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“You’re at the manor.”

The ceiling suddenly makes sense his mind, as does the voice at his side. He drags his gaze to see a Bruce sitting in a chair at his bedside. He frowns, briefly glancing to the IV in his arm before turning back to Bruce, a silent question in his eyes.

“You fainted on patrol. You were running a fever of 103.3 degrees, and you were dehydrated.”

Shit. Jason knew he was sick, but he hadn’t realized he let it get that bad. He wants to talk, even opens his mouth to, but Bruce holds a single hand up, shaking his head.

“Save your strength. You’re on the mend, but not as quickly as we’d like.” Bruce slips to his feet, his eyes colored in dark pain that Jason catches onto.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself now that you’re awake, but I’ll be back, and you are just going to have to deal with that.”

Jason’s mind is fuzzy, confused, pained, but he feels a fraction lighter along the knowledge that while he blacked out, he woke back up this time, safe, alive. He stares at Bruce’s back headed to the door.

“B?”

Bruce stops, and he whips around, one brow arched.

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Of course, son.”

Bruce leaves, and Jason decides that, just for tonight, he’ll take muted comfort in the single word that carries an impossibly heavy amount of weight.

Son.

[matoitech]

my hcs for galo and lios families like pre prmr in early childhood (or beyond, depending) r mostly vague but generally i go w single moms for like, every parent hc for things so heres some Brain Canons Ideas

galos family was his mom and grandfather, dads out of the picture we dont talk abt him. his mom looks a lot like him like she definitely has a mohawk and muscles also shes bisexual bc i think it would be cool of her. moms side of the families japanese and his grandfather may have been either a firefighter or historian cuz i like to think galo got the interest from somewhere and inferno kind of implies it anyway

two hcs for lios mom!

FIRST HC is that he was raised by his bio mom who was the mad burnish boss of like the biggest and most powerful mad burnish group, cuz i imagine there were probably multiple who went by the name each w slightly dif goals and ideologies. she has super powerful fire and a very dramatic taste in clothes

she was around for the great world blaze and prob had a traumatic burnish awakening like almost everyone on the planet and joined mad burnish p much right away; mad burnish was more easily locatable then; not rly in hiding quite yet bc it was before the real shit started to hit the fan. was good at what she did so she took charge fast

she didnt rly expect 2 have a kid and decided well maybe he’ll succeed me as the boss or something so at least got him ready best she could to lead or be in charge of something(and lio figured shit out on his own in a ‘ways i DONT want to be like my mother’ way) lio was always the Bosses Son there was little community involvement in his childhood cuz the boss is a little scary.. dont wanna get on her bad side.. besides like, babysitting sometimes for missions (i clarify cuz the 2nd hc does involve more joint raising of a kid)

also shes still alive during and after promare but they dont keep in touch lio ditched cuz he does not get along w her and they had a ‘difference in opinion’ in lios words but it was probably like Big Issues like idk maybe abt the burnish dont kill thing lio has going, or just general disagreement abt the way she was handling leading. i dont imagine they ever rly got along well. lio has conflicting feelings abt her. she wasnt a great parent. i cant say she tried her best but she sure was there i guess

i guess lio happened to be at the right place at the right time to save the world and also just b Around promepolis so he was referred to as the most powerful burnish but his mom is out there.. somewhere..

she looks like lalaco godspeed but blonde in leather and with more clothes but she has a cape bc she thinks they look cool. and shes right. also if she was in promare 2 she’d probably be the antagonist. shes not evil like the promare 1 villain or smth she just seems like she’d b a fun villain and give lio Parental Drama. sucks for him but good for tv

SECOND HC is that lio had some sort of separation from his bio parents after he turned burnish that he doesnt talk about and either found himself or was found by and basically adopted by the boss of one of the mad burnish groups, so yet another single mom except this ones more chill and nicer. to him anyway. she is not chill internally. shes more leniant on the burnish dont kill thing than lio will b later on in his life, since she has killed and will again if necessary but makes more of an effort to not be as blatant about it in front of the kids as lio mom #1

more community raising going on in this since various other members of the mad burnish of his moms girlfriends would help take care of him n raise him. lio learned a lot from them. he sure liked these ppl more than his bio parents. idk it was a shit situation for everyone bc theyre like, on the run, and scapegoated by everyone and the government, but they tried to feign making the best of it for lio when he was younger. lios mom gave it to him straight tho but in like a way u would respect from a parent. she has seen some shit unfortunately, also does not believe shes a good person bc of the shit shes had to do but shes doing the best she can w what shes got. 

im projecting wanting a good parent onto her can u tell

shes no longer alive by the time of promare, idk when she was killed or died (prob killed tbh). lio was obviously rly fucked up over this but was like no no emotions bc hes had to deal w a lot of rly horrible shit before and left the group a short while after that and kinda wandered and did shit on his own for a while, helped ppl out when he could. made up his mind and went to find the mad burnish near promepolis where a lot of the biggest issues were located and where freeze force came from. depending on where u think promepolis is located this either took a while or was fast

im tired these r just some ideas ive tossed around when entertaining backstories n they r not all of them. by far. a lot of its inspired by other ppls ideas which is why u have more extensive lio parent hcs, cuz ppl talk abt his backstory ideas more.

[fangzeronos]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Ivy watched in slow motion as Harley let her go and started to fall toward the burning pile of debris and wreckage from the Pit. She hit the ground over the massive hole in the ground, narrowing her eyes.

 “Fuck no! You are not going out like this,” she said, running for the edge before leaping over, the vine wrapped around her arm letting her swing down. She snagged Harley and wrapped another vine around the blonde, the two of them being launched back up onto the ground.

 “Holy shit,” Harley laughed, hitting the ground before looking at Ivy as they both sat up. “We got out!”

 “We did!” ivy laughed, hugging Harley tightly. She could feel her heart thundering in her ribs, knowing Harley could feel it too.

 The two women pulled back, smiles turning somber. Before either woman knew what was going on, they’d surged forward and kissed, Ivy’s hands tangling in Harley’s hair and Harley’s arms tightening around Ivy’s neck.

 Harley had always wondered, mostly to herself, what Ivy’s kiss would taste like. Would it be poison for her and kill her? Or would it be fun? She had her answer now. Kissing Ivy was like kissing the most succulent plant in existence, one she wanted to keep feeling.

 Ivy had always thought Harley’s kisses would be weird or messy, even incoherent like the woman herself. She was glad to be wrong. The feel of Harley’s lips against her own was different then any other kiss she’d ever had, even ones from her fiancé. She found herself not wanting to break the kiss, but she knew she had to at some point.

 A few seconds felt like a lifetime before both women pulled away and smiled before realization crossed their faces, both stunned into silence. Ivy blinked, watching as Harley bit her lip, something Ivy found damned cute and even irresistible.

 “Ives, I—”

 Harley—”

 Harley nodded, picking at her prison jumpsuit. “We, uh, we should find a way back to Gotham. The crew’s probably wondering where we are. Kite’s probably looking for you.”

 Kite Man. Shit. Ivy nodded softly, looking down before standing up and holding her hand out. “Come on,” she said. “Harley.”

 Harley nodded, taking Ivy’s hand and standing up quickly, her heart sinking when Ivy let her go and turned away. Harley looked around, smiling a little. “Well, Bane left the truck sitting. We can drive that back. I can drop you at Kite Man’s,” she said softly, not trusting her voice.

 Ivy nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. Sounds good,” she said, heading for the truck. She climbed into the passenger seat, looking down and staring at her hands. She’d kissed her best friend, betraying Kite Man. The guilt in her chest felt like a lead weight, and she didn’t know how to handle it. She pulled her seatbelt on, hearing Harley climb into the driver’s seat and start the rumbling engine.

 Harley turned the truck around, heading for Gotham City. She glanced over at Ivy who wasn’t looking at her, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. For the first time, the former Clown Queen of Crime fell silent, deciding it was better not to make things worse.

 Twenty miles down the road, Ivy sighed softly. The silence was uncomfortable, but with no radio stations to listen to thanks to them being one of the casualties of the earthquake taking out the city, they didn’t have much option. “Harley…?” she asked softly, chancing a glance at her friend.

 “Hm?” Harley asked, looking over at Ivy before turning her gaze back to the road.

 “Do you…do you regret that?” Ivy asked. “The kiss?”

 Harley bit her lip, Ivy having to stifle a sigh as she watched the red of Harley’s lipstick disappear under her teeth. She pulled over, wrapping her arms around herself. “I…I don’t know, Ives. Part of me’s wanted to do that for years, but the…damn infuriating Harleen part of me is screaming “Fucking homewrecker!” and putting Kite Man in my mind. I’m conflicted,” she said softly, her hands clenching softly.

 Ivy nodded, reaching for Harley. She stopped and pulled back, clasping her hands in front of her. “We can, um...we can just chalk it up to adrenaline and the heat of the moment, and…we don’t have to talk about it again. If you want?”

 Harley wanted to talk about it. She wanted to scream her emotions for Ivy to the heavens, tell her every truth in her heart, but she knew she couldn’t do that! She couldn’t ruin her best friend’s chance at real happiness, something Harley knew she’d never, in a million years, be able to give Ivy. “Yeah…that’s fine,” she said, smiling even though it didn’t reach her eyes. She shook out her shoulders before grabbing the wheel and starting for Gotham again. “I’ll drop you off, ditch this thing, and I’ll find the others.”

 Ivy nodded, smiling a bit. “Alright,” she said. She fell silent, looking out of the window and pushing her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

 The two fell into a pregnant silence, finally crossing into the ruins of Gotham. Harley drove around wrecked cars and buildings, pulling up outside of Kite Man’s apartment building before shutting the engine off and hopping out. Ivy hopped out, shutting the door and walking around the front of the truck. She stopped and faced Harley.

 “Why’d you do it?” Ivy asked. “Why’d you let go?”

 Harley sighed softly, looking down and kicking at a rock. “I’ve dragged you down all these years. There wasn’t a need for you to go down with me this time, Ivy,” she said. “Not when you got your future to look forward to. I’ve been my only friend for a long time, and you can’t keep pushing your happiness aside just because I drag you into my shit. You don’t deserve that.”

 Ivy walked forward, hugging Harley, feeling the other woman’s arms around her waist. She closed her eyes, tightening her arms around Harley. “You’re the first best thing to ever happen to me, Harls,” she said softly, tears stinging her eyes. “Even when you drag me into your crazy shit, even when I get pissed and want to stab you myself, I’ll always be there for you.”

 Harley nodded, fighting back tears. “I know, Ives,” she said softly. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. You deserve to be happy.” She pulled back and kissed Ivy’s cheek softly, squeezing her arm. “Go. Be with your fiancé. I’ll find the crew.”

 Ivy nodded, pushing Harley’s hair back. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll come in a couple of days.”

 She squeezed Harley’s shoulder, walking into the apartment building, turning to watch the door close and cut Harley’s figure from her sight. She walked up a couple of flights of stairs, sinking to the stairs and pressing her back against the wall, the tears finally breaking free as she put her hands over her face, shoulders shaking as she started crying. For the first time in her life, her heart was torn in two directions, one half screaming at her to run downstairs and tackle the blonde woman into the ground and never let her go, the other half saying  to get up and keep going upstairs and ride her fiancé until one of them passed out.

 Picking herself up and wiping her eyes, Ivy slammed her fist into the wall. She sighed and walked upstairs, stopping outside before knocking on the door to the apartment. “Honey? Chuck, please…let me in.”

 The door opened, Kite Man standing in front of Ivy with a smile and wearing his green robe. “Hey, honey. Why, uh, why’re you wearing prison clothes?” he asked.

 Ivy flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around Kite Man’s waist and breaking down, clutching at his robe as tears flowed down her cheeks. She felt Kite Man pulling her into the apartment, hearing the door shut and her feet leave the floor. Looking up, she saw she was sitting on her fiancé’s lap, her hands shaking.

 “Ivy. Talk to me, baby,” he said, rubbing her back softly.

 Ivy bit her lip, wiping her eyes before she started rambling everything that happened from being at the bar with Harley to being taken by Two-Face’s men, the trial, and the Pit. She stopped when she got to them escaping, getting up and wrapping her arms around herself tightly, crossing to the window.

 “I couldn’t let her die, Chuck. I went back for her, I had to. But…when we hit the ground…in the post glow of “Holy shit we lived!” I…I kissed her,” she said softly, her hands clenching in her shirt. “I kissed her, and…the only thing I could think about was “Jesus, why am I not doing this all the fucking time?” and that felt like a punch in the cooch.”

 Kite Man was silent, looking at Ivy before he got up and walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “So, you kissed your best friend. Hell, yeah,” he said with a small smile. “Listen, Ivy. You don’t realize it, but you talk about Harley in your sleep a lot. Mumbling about “Don’t hurt her,” or “Leave her alone and take me instead.” I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I see how you two interact and work off of each other, acting more like lifelong partners then friends. You two have been together a long time, wrecking this city from tits to toes. I…I can’t compete with Harley.”

 “Chuck,” Ivy said softly, turning and putting her hand on his cheek. “I shouldn’t have kissed her. I betrayed you.”

 “No, you didn’t,” Kite Man said, kissing Ivy’s forehead. “I can see it in your eyes how much you love her, Ivy. Every time you talk about her, you get animated and smile bigger then anytime I’ve made you smile. You just never saw it for yourself.”

 “Fuck,” Ivy sighed, letting her head hit Kite Man’s chest. “What do I do…?”

 “Follow your heart,” Kite Man said, wrapping his arms around Ivy and rubbing her back. “That’s all you can do. If you break it off with me, I’ll still be your friend, Ivy. I love you enough to not get upset. If you stay, I don’t think you’ll ever truly be happy.”

 Ivy sighed, her hands clenching in Kite Man’s robe. “You’re too damned understanding, Chuck,” she said softly. “I don’t deserve you. I love you, but I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve her, either. I…”

 “You’re worthy of love, Ivy. Mine or Harleys. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a better person to lose her to,” Kite Man said, rubbing Ivy’s back. “Go shower, have a drink, just relax. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

 Across town, Harley sighed as she sank to the floor beside one of the couches in the rundown mall, her mind lost. She drew her knees up, biting her lip and still tasting and feeling Ivy’s lips against hers. She rested her head on her arms, sighing softly.

 “What did I do…?” she mumbled.

 “Harley? Where have you been?” King Shark asked as he walked in, tossing a bloody leg away. “You haven’t been here in two days.”

 “It’s a long story, Shark,” Harley said, looking up at the massive half-man/half-shark.

 “Well, we got time,” Dr. Psycho said, hopping onto the couch. “By the way, where’s Ivy?”

 “Kite Man’s,” Harley said, sighing softly. “Dropped her off.”

 “Ok, spill. You’re less peppy then usual and you’re not threatening to smash my head in. What’s got your tits twisted?” Psycho asked.

 Harley sighed, her hands clenching before she rambled on about the events of the last few days, culminating in leaving Ivy at Kite Man’s complex. She didn’t realize she’d gotten up and started pacing and raising her voice.

 “And all I can think about is how I’m a fucking homewrecking slut! I kissed my best friend, the one person that’s always been fuckin’ decent to me, and I go and do this shit!? She shoulda let me burn!” she yelled, flinging her baseball bat across the mall, hearing it hit the wall. She collapsed on the couch, panting as tears fell down her cheeks.

 King Shark raised an eyebrow, looking at Harley. “Wow. I can’t believe all of that stuff happened to you two.”

 “You two really are fucking stupid,” Psycho said, looking at Harley before he stood on the couch. “I don’t tell you this, but when you dream, your dreams are fucking loud. Almost all of them, Harley, involve Ivy in some way. Saving her, getting your ass kicked by her, several sex dreams that give me ideas—”

“Gross,” King Shark said, getting a glare from Psycho.

 “My point is whether you realize it or not, you’re in love with your best friend. Have been for years, but you never did anything because you didn’t think she was feeling the same. Trust me, blondie, she is,” Psycho said. “You two are just fucking stupid and didn’t get it before she got hitched to the dildo with the fetish for kites. Now that you two made out like horny teenagers after nearly dying again, you don’t know what to do, right?”

 “Right,” Harley said. “I…I don’t want to ruin her chance to be happy and have everything she deserves. Kite’s better for her then I’ll ever be. I’m damaged, a broken doctor who got suckered by a fucking madman.”

 “She’s damaged too, Harley. You two have been best friends for years. You just never wanted to imagine the life you wanted with her because you were obsessed with Joker and she was an emotionally stunted petunia!”

 Harley nodded, looking over as Sy rolled up, tossing a bag at her. “What’s this?”

 “Clothes, you prison skank,” the crippled old man said with a grin. “Can’t go around wearin’ prison colors all the time. It don’t match your body.”

 Harley rolled her eyes, heading for where she’d claimed as her room. She stripped and changed, sitting on her bed before looking at her phone as it went off, seeing a text from Ivy.

 “Harls, I’ll be there in a couple of days. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, and I want to sort it out before we talk. Don’t worry, I know we’ll both make the right choices. Just stay at the lair and please, for the love of God, don’t do anything stupid.”

 Harley smiled softly, opening the text before starting to type. “I planned on just sitting on my ass for the next day or two. After the last couple of days, I think I need a break myself. Tell Kite I said hi, have some fun and come back limping. Love you.”

 Harley shut her phone off before seeing Ivy’s response, tossing it down, shaking her hair out of her signature pigtails before laying back, staring up at the ceiling.

 Three days later, with Shark and Psycho out looking for more food, Harley sighed as she drew her hair back in a ponytail, walking out to the main area and sitting on the fountain, laying back and letting her hand dip into the water. She turned and looked at her reflection, swirling her hand and making it distort before she sat up.

 “Ponytail, huh? Haven’t seen that since Arkham,” Ivy’s voice said, the woman it belonged to walking over and sitting beside her friend. “And no booty shorts? Who are you and what have you done with my Harley?”

 Harley smiled softly, flicking her ponytail softly. “Thought I’d try something different,” she said. She sighed softly, turning so her feet were on the floor. “Have a good few days?”

 “Yeah. Talked with Chuck, got things figured out,” Ivy said.

 Harley nodded, looking down before she looked at Ivy. “I’m really happy for you, Ives. He makes you happy, and I can’t keep you from that. You deserve happiness, and I can’t hold you back. You can’t keep wasting your life with me,” she said. “Besides, I’m looking forward to being maid of honor. I don’t normally wear green, but I think the dress I picked out is gonna make you flip your shit.”

 Ivy shook her head, smiling softly. “I gave him back the ring. Yesterday.”

 “What?! Why!?” Harley asked, her eyes wide. “Ivy, no!”

 “Ivy yes!” the green skinned woman said with a smile, taking Harley’s hands. “Harley. Yes, he makes me happy, but he isn’t where my heart is. It’s taken me too long to figure out and admit, but…it was never him I loved.”

 “Ivy,” Harley said softly, standing up and watching as Ivy did. “I’m too damaged—”

 “You think I’m not? I was pushed into shelf of chemicals that turned me from a white girl into the Green Giant’s little sister. I have issues, but you’re the only one that made me want to work through them,” Ivy said, putting her hand on Harley’s cheek. “What did I tell you after you left Joker the first time?”

 Harley closed her eyes, leaning against Ivy’s hand. “You love me in a very hard to articulate way,” she said softly.

 “It’s not hard to articulate anymore,” Ivy said, brushing her thumb over Harley’s cheek. “Harley Quinn, I love you.”

 Harley’s lip quivered, the blonde throwing her arms around Ivy’s neck as tears fell down her cheeks. “I love you, Ivy,” she said, smiling through her tears and feeling Ivy’s arms around her waist.

 Ivy smiled, pulling Harley back before wiping her eyes. “Now…let me do this right,” she said. She leaned in and kissed Harley, smiling as she did.

 Harley melted into the kiss, moaning and whimpering against Ivy’s lips. “This is what a kiss is supposed to feel like,” she thought happily. She tightened her arms around Ivy’s neck, not wanting to let go.

 Ivy gripped Harley just a little tighter, pulling her off and resting her forehead against Harley’s. “Chuck still wants to be friends, and he’s not mad. He said if he had to lose me to someone, he’s glad it’s you.”

“If I had to lose you to anyone, I’d want it to be him,” Harley said, closing her eyes.

 “Oh, Christ, what the fuck did we walk into now?” Psycho asked, King Shark carrying a pair of bags.

 “The start of a beautiful relationship,” Harley said with a grin, leaning against Ivy and giggling when she felt Ivy’s arms tight around her.

 “Ugh, no more Casablanca for you, babe,” Ivy said with a smile, kissing Harley’s temple. “Fucking dork.”

 “Love me anyway.”

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

a most holy sin

i watched Bohemian Rhapsody and cried at least 12 times so of course i was (loosely) inspired by it and had to write an ineffable husbands fanfic. i definitely listened to a Best of Queen playlist while i wrote it, too. i hope you enjoy and please forgive historical and medical inaccuracies because im sure there are some. also for some reason the line break isn't working?? i'm going to try to add it again later.

(I know Gabriel does not technically outrank Aziraphale but for the sake of plot he's gonna be in charge of Earthly affairs.)

WARNING: There is usage of homophobic slurs at a point in this story. If you are sensitive to such, either be wary as you read or simply do not read this fic. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings if you keep scrolling.

~*~

"I'd like to be temporarily stationed in America."

Gabriel looked up from his desk, every inch of it covered in paperwork. Glasses that Aziraphale knew very well the archangel did not need slid down his nose. Gabriel pushed them back up. "Why?"

Succinct. As per usual. Aziraphale pretended that he was not twisting his ring anxiously around his pinky as he spoke. "Well, I do read American papers every so often, and I've been keeping tabs on a certain, er, an epidemic, of sorts, that is happening over there."

Gabriel removed the silver frames from his nose, folding them and placing them on his desk. "Right. The AIDS epidemic."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured. "Yes, quite. I assure you that I don't intend to miracle up a cure for the disease. It's best to let humans work through that on their own, I assume. I simply wish to - to ease the pain of those in the final stages."

Gabriel was silent. Aziraphale began to wonder if he was pushing his luck with this request. He'd nearly been discovered with Crowley only two decades or so ago, not to mention his boss was not known for being the friendliest or the most sympathetic of angels -

"Yes."

Aziraphale blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said yes, you may go." Gabriel sighed, scrawling his signature on a document in glittering gold ink before shoving the paper away. "I have also been keeping up with information on the epidemic. Those victims could certainly use some angelic kindness right now, what with so many being rejected by their families even as they're on their deathbeds. Beelzebub undoubtedly has a special place in Hell for those sorts of nasty people, I'm sure."

"And we have a special place in Heaven for the victims?"

"Precisely." Gabriel returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. "You're dismissed, Aziraphale. Don't stay too long."

"Of course," Aziraphale breathed, nodding. He was almost unable to believe everything had worked out so well. "Thank you, Gabriel." Not wanting to overstay his visit and risk having the decision reversed, Aziraphale promptly left. He considered taking the back exit out, but it wasn't as if he was in a rush. He still had to pack, after all.

It was quite a shame he couldn't simply miracle himself to America. Airplanes were... Less than enjoyable, in Aziraphale's opinion. But miracles had to be preserved.

He didn't want to think about how many he might have to perform in the very near future.

~*~

America, circa 1990

Aziraphale had ditched his usual tartan suit for new tartan scrubs. He was posing as a nurse, working in a ward delegated specifically to victims of AIDS in the final stages. As much as it pained him, he refrained from miracling them back into health. God probably would not take too kindly to that, what with the circle of life and all, even considering Her infinite generosity. Instead, Aziraphale eased their pain as they passed to Heaven. If nothing else, they deserved to know that good things awaited them on the other side.

"Room 636, Nurse Fell," a woman called to Aziraphale as he walked down the hall. Her voice had the rounded edge of a faint Southern drawl. "He's got family with him right now, but they'll be out soon."

"Right. Thank you." He nodded at her as she passed. Aziraphale had memorized the layout of the hospital before he'd started "working" there - it helped him maximize his time with the patients. Not to mention he had to be back in Soho before the end of the year.

"This is your own fault, you know."

Aziraphale froze.

"You're the who grew up and decided to be a fucking fag, goddamnit!"

He recognized that tone. It was one he heard all too often in the AIDS ward.

"And now that choice is killing you. Just like it killed your little queer boyfriend."

Aziraphale resisted the urge to swear. Of course the voice was coming from room 636.

"Hope you're happy with yourself. Hope you're proud."

The man's words were laced with more venom than the world's deadliest snake could provide. Aziraphale reached for the door handle, only to find that it had been locked. Very much against hospital regulations, but also rather common in these situations.

"This is the devil's consequence. You know why they're calling it the 'gay plague'? Because only fags are getting it." The man sighed, an intensified frustration bleeding into his tone. "You just had to be a queer, didn't you? You had to be the family disappointment." His voice dropped, and he growled the lethal blow. "I can't believe I ever called you my son."

Aziraphale didn't care if Heaven reprimanded him. He snapped his fingers, unlocking the door and entering the room without a moment's hesitation. He straightened his back and stared down the father. "Sir, I am going to have to ask that you leave here immediately."

The man's lip curled in disgust. "A queer nurse? I should have known."

Aziraphale ignored the comment, standing his ground. "I must insist that you leave, or else I'll be forced to call security."

For a moment, Aziraphale was afraid the man wouldn't go. But after a long pause, he left in a furious silence.

Aziraphale rushed over to the patient's bed. He was young, in his late teens or early twenties. Still a boy, really. And that only made it all the more heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Aziraphale checked the IV in the boy's arm, making sure it remained connected. "You don't deserve to be treated like something is wrong with you."

"Maybe there is something wrong with me."

Sweat beaded the boy's forehead, and Aziraphale's heart ached a little more when he saw tearstains on his cheeks.

"Am I really going to Hell, nurse?" the boy whispered. "Was falling in love really a sin?" He closed his eyes, biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep himself from sobbing. "I loved him. I loved him so much. All I did was fall in love."

"My dear boy." Aziraphale pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed before sitting down. "Of course you aren't going to Hell. Believe me, falling in love is no sin."

"That's not what my father thinks." His voice was bitter. Much too bitter for someone who likely had just started university.

"Well, fathers don't know everything," Aziraphale replied. "Trust me, dear boy. There is nothing you have to fear in death."

The boy wiped tears from his eyes. "Yeah? How would you know?"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The Almighty really was not going to be pleased with him. So many miracles only a few minutes apart was sure to get him reprimanded. Or maybe it wouldn't. He never could tell what exactly She would approve or disapprove of.

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sudden change of his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but Aziraphale stopped him.

"Careful, now. I'm simply giving you a peek into what awaits you."

The boy shook his head in disbelief. "Is this - is this Heaven?"

"Indeed." A part of it, at least. A lovely little spot of paradise that was reminiscent of Eden. Many enjoyed it when they first ascended to Heaven. A place to get acclimated.

The boy stared at Aziraphale. "You're an angel."

Aziraphale's wings fluttered, as if responding to the query. "Yes, I am. I requested to be stationed in America to help ease the pain of those suffering from AIDS. People in the... Final stages of the disease."

The boy nodded. A faint smile appeared on his lips. "That means I'm dying, then."

Young people truly were getting more perceptive. "I'm afraid so, my dear." Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the vision of Heaven dissipated. Regretfully, his wings went, too.

The boy sighed, leaning back more deeply into the hospital bed's pillow. "Would you believe me if I told you that I'm going to miss my father?"

Aziraphale didn't respond. He knew an answer wasn't expected.

"I'm going to miss him. Even if -" The boy's voice cracked. "Even if he hates me, he was the only family I had. I forgive him, and - and I want God to forgive him, too."

"She will," Aziraphale murmured, his voice so low only he could hear it. "She always does."

The boy's heart rate was dropping. Aziraphale resisted every instinct in his body to save him. He could not interfere. It was not his responsibility to influence Earthly life and death.

"At least I'll get to see Miles again," the boy breathed. Tears were trickling down his face. "It's been a long year without him."

He closed his eyes.

The machine flatlined.

Aziraphale could sense the boy's spirit leaving his body. He returned the chair to the side of the room, then slid the curtain shut around the bed.

"I'm sorry, angel."

Aziraphale didn't know when he'd started crying. "I can't imagine even your lot could be responsible for this, Crowley."

There was a pause. "AIDS itself is one of the final gifts of Pestilence unto Earth, despite that they retired eons ago." Footsteps echoed in the quiet room, moving closer to Aziraphale. "But only humans could be so cruel to one another."

"I know," Aziraphale whispered. "And I think that's the worst part of all." He didn't even blink as Crowley stepped in front of him, brushing away his tears with his thumb.

"There's nothing you can do, angel," Crowley murmured. "You know that."

Aziraphale did know that. He hated it, but he knew it all too well. "I just - I just don't understand. All they do is fall in love, Crowley! What could have wrong in human history where they started to believe that love was sinful?"

Aziraphale expected a witty comment in response. A dry quip about Catholics, or the Shaker community. He certainly had not prepared himself for a serious answer.

"When did Heaven and Hell start believing it?"

Crowley's sunglasses slid down his nose. He took them off, tucking them into his jacket. They stared at each other, eye to eye.

"I've been - I've been wondering that myself," Aziraphale stammered. His voice was hushed. "But it's not my place to question it."

Crowley shrugged. "The Almighty has been more forgiving as of late. Since it's you, She just might allow it."

"I - I couldn't possibly."

"I know, angel." He sighed. "I know."

Neither spoke after that. But neither made a move to walk away.

Aziraphale knew he had to leave. He had to report the death of the young man so the room could be available for other patients. But he couldn't bring himself to step away from Crowley.

The stood only inches apart. Aziraphale wasn't certain whether he'd reached for Crowley's hand or if the demon had grabbed his, but their fingers were intertwined and Aziraphale knew damn well he didn't want to let go.

"How did you find me?" he finally asked. "I don't recall telling you I was leaving Soho. Or where I was going." In fact, they hadn't spoken since 1967. The night in the Bentley.

Crowley shrugged. In a rare moment of tenderness, his thumb gently brushed over Aziraphale's knuckles. "The city feels different when you're not there."

"O-Oh. I see." Aziraphale found his gaze drifting down from Crowley's eyes to his lips. He didn't fail to notice that Crowley had lessened the distance between them even further.

"Is love a sin, angel?" Crowley whispered. His free hand moved to cup Aziraphale's cheek. "Because if so, it must be the holiest sin there is."

Aziraphale would have laughed had the tension between them not been almost suffocating. "Well, my dear, I really don't think there's such thing as a 'holy' sin -"

He was cut off as Crowley captured his mouth with his. Aziraphale found himself melting into the kiss, pulling the demon towards him. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale placed his arms around Crowley's neck.

He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't know why he shouldn't be, because every atom in his body was telling him that this was right, that this was love, that Crowley was all he needed -

But he couldn't.

Aziraphale pulled away, certain that regret was written all over his face. He couldn't bring himself to look Crowley in the eyes. "I'm sorry. You deserve - you deserve better than me."

Crowley laughed. It was harsh. Bitter. "I'm a demon, angel. I don't 'deserve' anything. It's part of the job description. In the fine print. Non-negotiable. You know that." He yanked his sunglasses out of his pocket and shoved them onto his face.

"No." Aziraphale's voice refused to move above a whisper. "You deserve everything, my dear. Anything you want. The whole world."

"I don't want the whole damn world. I only want you."

Aziraphale forced himself to look at Crowley. The demon's expression was unreadable behind the black lenses. "I can't, Crowley. Not now. Not yet."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "'Yet'?"

Aziraphale nodded. "One day, I'll - I'll be ready. To go faster. As fast as you. I swear it. Just - Just not today." And he meant it. More than anything he'd ever said. "Will you... Wait for me?"

A small smile appeared on Crowley's lips. It was a rare sight, but one of Aziraphale's favorites.

"For you, angel? Always."

Aziraphale blinked, and the demon was gone. He didn't know when they'd see each other again. He didn't know what the future would hold for them, either. But when Crowley had left, he'd taken all of Aziraphale's tears with him. As he so often did.

Perhaps his demon had a point.

If love was a sin, it truly was a holy one.

Maybe even one worth Falling for.

~*~

im a mess, y'all. i love these two more than i love myself. i hope you enjoyed! feel free to send me prompt requests for them or for ineffable bureaucracy because both are such good pairings.

[shauta]

alright i think im awake enough to talk about my thots on zero-one from break up to episode 44 so spoilers after the cut in case you havent caught up or youre planning on watching it

so first i guess i should mention the presidential specials, which were just 2 glorified recap episodes that also introduced azu (finally) and the creation of the ark-one key. they are what they are and i get having to just shove it into recap episodes that were released during the point where it was still pretty risky to have actors do anything outside of their homes so i dont really feel much toward them

to the actual point of this, episodes 36-41 i would call good for the most part, there are some things that had to get sidelined due to covid, like fuwa and yua’s whole thing having to be condensed into a scene or two of them talking to Ai, the therapy robot, but it was still alright all things considered and i cant blame them too much since something like this during the airing of rider has never really happened. in regards to the thousman’s redemption, it kinda felt like a mix of covid interference and general not knowing how to properly give such a horrible man any kind of redemption. like, i’ll admit, his backstory about his robot dog named thouser (hilarious) almost got me until he pulled the “youre the only motherfucker that can handle me” with Sony’s New Product Placement Toy, which made it wrap around from being almost decent to funny in a bad kind of way. also the thing with him committing fucking humagear crimes being born from a love of hiden intelligence was so damn stupid, like are they telling me he couldnt have done the things he did out of like jealousy or some blind belief that hiden’s dreams are foolish or something?? fuck man, that was just really dumb. also how much did sony pay to have them shove so much goddamn footage of aibo into that episode

ark zero’s introduction was pretty cool, with him just outright fucking possessing horobi and, at first, making his body move unnaturally until he transformed. that was kinda sick. i feel like the cut to yua being outright terrified of ark would have had more impact had she done more stuff in the show, but i think thats genuinely a good way to show how strong/scary a new enemy can be. im also so glad that naki got their own suit and shit, since i remember us hoping that they would at least use the assault wolf key, but kamen rider naki is just so much cooler. thanks so fucking much kamen rider zero-one

also with ark when aruto just lost to him and got scared that maybe his ideals werent totally right, since in his ideal dream world it is technically possible for an ai to become as corrupted like satellite ark and him having to reaffirm what he believes in after fukuoze comes to him and is like “i need shesta back so we can kick gai out” was good imo. i liked that episode. also the episode where izu ran through multiple simulations was kinda fucked but it ended with her being able to make shit appear in her hands so good for her :)

then with the last of the ark zero shit, horobi uhhhh. hes there. he realizes that maybe sometimes it good to make choices for yourself, i guess. the teamup with him and zero-two was really cool, though. liked that and i liked raiden working with subaru again to take down ark. mostly a good episode if you like the fact that horobi will never change.

i think ive said everything i want to about the episodes i liked so now its time to talk about episodes 42-44, or where zero-one just takes a nosedive into confusing choices that i believe are genuinely bad. to start of with, izu dies. i would feel something about this moment if kamen rider didnt pull this shit all the goddamn time and also if i wasnt at least 50% confident that takahashi is gonna bring her back in some form during the finale like he did with poppy ex-aid. also this is the catalyst that makes aruto turn into ark-one, ditching zero-two after like. two episodes. incredible. this is dumb as hell, im not gonna try to pretend it isnt, because it is far too late in the show for this to happen, even with covid fucking up schedules. there is no reason for aruto to just ditch his morals and become the ultimate evil of zero-one because izu died. this isnt what she would want you moran!! and like, i get it, kind of. they wanted to show that not even good boy aruto, our heroic protagonist, is immune to having malicious feelings. i get killing off izu so aruto can feel malice towards horobi. turning him into ark-one is just dumb imo and they should have done something like his malice being what summons the ark again, but either in a shiny new body, or him using azu, i guess. either way theres no need for aruto to become ark-one.

this part is just nitpicky but during the ark-one fights where it would cut away to ark-one in total darkness, i think it could have been utilized better. like him dodging the shots and attacking everyone else while cutting to those shots would have been really good... had horobi also been visible during the shots they cut to when he was fighting him. like, theres some good potential for symbolism (? i dont really remember film terms too well but i do know what im talking about) here where he just doesnt see anything, except for horobi, who he wants to kill as revenge for izu. it couldve been cool even though this whole thing was really dumb imo!! but it kinda just ended up being a bit confusing in the end.

speaking of dumb shit, i think the fuwa and aruto fight in 44 was wasted in the end. orthoros vulcan is a dope recolor of assault wolf and it had retractable naki claws, so it at least gets points for that. but aruto transforms into zero-two for the first time in 2 episodes which doesnt make sense at first glance since hes ark-one now, but i think they were intending for this fight to be a callback to when zero-one and vulcan were first fighting, which is actually really cool if they meant for it to be this. which i believe so but you never know. anyway this fight was wasted because it doesnt seem to do much?? unless right at the start of 45 aruto’s gonna be like “nah, im not actually gonna fight you, since nobody wants that” but even then, going up to horobi and risking a full on war of humagears against humans is still stupid. why would he do that if he learned from his fight with fuwa. also this would have been a cool moment for fuwa to turn aruto’s catchphrase against him!! it would have been so fucking sick for fuwa at one point to say something like “theres only one person who can save you, and that’s me!” like fuck!!!!! that would be so cool!!!!! im genuinely upset this didnt happen im not even joking

i think this post went off the rails because i never learn that i cant extensively talk about kamen rider or other interests without becoming incredible incoherent so im ending the post here. thanks if you were able to actually read through this mess and also i do think for the most part kamen rider zero-one is a season worth watching. just maybe not the last 4 episodes.

[cannabisrefugee-esq]

(via Running Through Fire With an Ostomy Bag. Homeless Without Humira. Can You Imagine?)

by Cannabis Refugee, Esq.--November 20, 2018

Yet again I am contemplating and empathizing with the plight of the seriously chronically ill in the midst of an ongoing natural disaster, this time raging wildfires in Northern and Southern California.  This morning I read the story of a woman who had given birth via C-section in the city of Paradise which that very day ended up burnt to the ground.  She was still on an IV drip with a spanking-fresh surgical wound and an hours-old newborn, unable to even walk on her own, and was forced to catch a ride out of dodge with a nonmedical hospital worker to whom she decreed: if the fire overtakes this car, take my baby and run. Gamely, the nonmedical hospital worker hung this woman’s IV bag from the rearview mirror and in just 9 short hours they had made the 20 minute drive to the next town to another hospital where, I presume, she is continuing her recovery from what is, of course, major (and probably elective) surgery and on top of that, likely major psychological trauma from both the surgery and the fire.

The home she had shared with her husband in Paradise has been reduced to its chimney as a large portion of the state continues to burn throwing hundreds of thousands of lives into prolonged chaos.  Some 10,000 homes have burned and many more people than that have been left homeless, camping out in tents in the parking lot of the local Walmart (if they are lucky enough to even have a tent) living in cars (unless theirs was lost or left behind) or renting a hotel room if they can locate, access and afford one — every room within 100 miles is currently occupied by displaced fire victims and other evacuees.

As a climate refugee myself, before I became a cannabis refugee, I was left homeless after losing my apartment in Hurricane Sandy and I can vividly imagine and feel these evacuees’ pain, stress and grief as they attempt to survive the “aftermath” of an ongoing regional disaster where all has been lost, damaged or destroyed, and that includes all infrastructure, including medical infrastructure.  While the experience of being a climate (or other) refugee in the best of circumstances is daunting, traumatizing and horrific, what are seriously ill people expected to do on top of everything else when they are also tied to the Western medical system either temporarily or for life because they have submitted to alterations/interventions like surgeries, ostomies, picc lines and the like, but where medical goods and services (including ostomy supplies and even intravenous nutrition) become unavailable due to an ongoing natural disaster?  What of those who are dependent on Big Pharma drugs to manage their symptoms or who are addicted to prescription painkillers and psych meds but who, due to circumstances beyond their control, are unable to refill their prescriptions and start to experience dangerous and even life-threatening disease relapses and clinical withdrawal?

Do people even think about these things — the issues of utter dependence — when they crawl into bed with Western medicine and Big Pharma, implicitly depending on infrastructure like physical brick and mortar facilities including infusion clinics and pharmacies; the availability of power including heat, light, water, and related hygiene, comfort and recovery/convalescence issues; and availability of medication/nutrition/supplies and other supply chain issues but where we are seeing infrastructure failing all over the country and by the hour from natural disasters which those in charge are unequipped to handle?   Surely some patients give their engagement with Western medicine serious and holistic thought but the majority certainly do not, just blindly following medical authority figures’ directions off a proverbial cliff of cascading interventions, iatrogenic illness and injury, dependency and even death.  Because the truth appears to be that the more/longer you engage with Western medicine, the more likely it becomes that they will fuck you up so badly that eventually they will nearly kill you and you will then look to them to save your life and look!  In the case of Crohn’s disease patients, now you’ve had 27 bowel resection surgeries.   Now you have an ostomy bag.  Now you take nutrition through a picc line directly into your heart.  And on and on it goes.

As if there didn’t already exist plenty of solid reasons not to engage with or submit to Western medical care if you can help it, in the current “climate” of what we are calling climate change and all that entails, including widespread drought and wildfires, supercharged thunderstorms that drop feet (feet! not inches anymore) of rainwater, tornadoes and softball sized hail, supercharged hurricanes that cause all of that and more including widespread coastal flooding, and the like, I would respectfully suggest that people start thinking about these things now and to consider very seriously how you would fare if the medical infrastructure everyone obviously takes for granted suddenly and even permanently fails.

Of course, once you become chronically ill, you are pretty much fucked any way you slice it: in my own case, although I ditched Western medicine after 2 years of conventional treatment that was only making me worse, I am now completely dependent on medical marijuana to treat the pain and symptoms of Crohn’s disease, without which medication I literally will not survive.  When the shit hits the fan, I and everyone in my position will suffer greatly as the supply chain fails, and that includes the marijuana supply chain as well as the food and water supply chain because so far, I have been unable to supply my own.  But as I contemplate the plight of the latest disaster refugees, including the woman who had the Caesarian and every patient in that hospital and elsewhere who had to evacuate to save their very lives, I think to myself, if I ever have to evacuate again, at least I don’t have a fresh surgical wound. At least I don’t have an ostomy that requires expensive medical supplies lest I leave a trail of shit wherever I go, at least I don’t depend on highly processed liquid nutrition pumped into my heart from a permanent picc line that’s susceptible to infections, at least I haven’t decimated my immune system with toxic chemotherapy and other drugs which are the best Western medicine can do for my untreatable, incurable and progressive disease.

And speaking of toxic Western medical treatments for Crohn’s like Humira, Remicade and the like, at least I won’t develop antibodies to my medication if I don’t have access to it for awhile, antibodies that will cause me to reject it once the supply chain comes back online, assuming the medication even worked well in the first place.  Can you fucking imagine?  At least that.  Of course, that happens to Crohn’s and other autoimmune patients every day when their health insurance carriers refuse to pay or when/if they otherwise have to miss their infusions for any reason at all.  Do you see what I am saying?  This shit, meaning Western medicine including the medical supply chain infrastructure, cannot be relied on, even when the medicine itself works and it often doesn’t.  So do not rely on it if you can help it.  It will not, because it cannot, end well if you do.

[ghostmartyr]

Fic: A Terrible Idea [9/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This fic has a thing about three in the morning.

Segment summary: Kenny imparts life advice.

I II III IV V VI VII VIII

Maybe an actual parent would have wanted more details about what kind of party his bereft, innocent teenager was absconding away to instead of bonding with her friends and siblings in a night of passably sober revelry.

With Kenny, the conversation went something like this:

“Can I ditch homecoming to feel up a hot babe?”

“As long as no one ends up back in the house while I’m making out with my boyfriend, I physically could not care less.”

He didn’t mention the boyfriend in words during the actual conversation. He didn’t have to. The man might as well have been whistling all week long, asking them how many hours they thought they’d stay out come dance night. He’d conned Levi into being their chauffeur and everything. He got a haircut. Sometimes there really was fucking whistling.

He gave Ymir the green light to go be surrounded by people whose neckties cost more than all of her organs on the black market without so much as a suspicious question. To the untrained eye, it was negligent bullshit that Ymir was happy to exploit.

Years of living under his roof said that he already knew every single person at the Reiss party and had personally threatened at least five of them with murder. Creepy, but if it meant he wasn’t badgering her about her life choices, swell.

Too bad a certain other person couldn’t follow the example.

There was one side effect of dealing with a parental unit on this that wasn’t so great. Cowboy Dad believed, so very dearly, in cleaning up good so the rest of everyone would fuck off. He liked to call this having manners. As someone who’d had to sign paperwork to take on a more active role in not caring what teenagers did, he also thought it was his solemn duty to impart some of these manners to the spawn he could happily disown at will.

Predicted side effects of that included small talk about not pissing off the people who had invited her into their home. Since Historia had been the only one at all interested in her presence there, that wasn’t the worst promise she could think about keeping, so fine, whatever, can I go now and so on.

Unfair fucking blindsides included the suggestion (suggestion, like every other thing Kenny suggested didn’t carry promises of life getting very unpleasant if the suggestion didn’t see some follow-through) to go out and fetch some flowers to present to Historia’s parents when she showed up at the party.

“She doesn’t like her parents,” Ymir had said. That was a large part of the point.

Kenny had looked at her, unimpressed in the face of logic. “Sunshine,” he’d said, “where in the hell do you get the thought in your head that manners are for people you like?”

An hour later Ymir was hanging out in a flower shop, stretching the boundaries of her artistic sensibilities to figure out just how ugly a bouquet they were capable of. Kenny had stopped just short of making her pay for the damn things, so she had room to work, but there was only so much she could do. The worst combinations she had so far said, “Your daughter has let someone with zero taste into your house, but the good news is they’re desperate for you to think they’re trying.”

When what she wanted was closer to, “Fuck you for thinking I care about your approval before fucking your daughter, also fuck you in general,” preferably in freshly-picked pastels.

Ymir had never been a flower connoisseur, and turning the notch on her style of aggression back to passive definitely wasn’t her speed, but she knew passive aggressive went best with pastels. From what she knew of the Reiss family, their entire mansion would be covered with the things. Kenny would approve of her commitment to speaking her hosts’ language, but she’d have to work extra hard to keep from complementing their color theme.

Her only entertainment for the day was watching Porco freak over how to handle being at a dance in Pieck’s proximity. She had time.

She was also an efficient multitasker.

Porco’s sneakers tapped loudly against the linoleum floor. “She liked the roses last year,” he said, nowhere near the rose section. He was looking at peonies.

“She’ll like whatever you get her, and they’ll be dead in a few days. Stop angsting and pick something,” Ymir said, even less interested in his problems than usual. Pieck had sent an innocuous text earlier to remind her that she liked tulips. Hint hint. Somehow they were all still pretending that it wouldn’t melt her overly devious, mushy heart to be getting flowers from Pock at all.

Except for Porco. He really was that clueless, so cue the hours of fretting over which collection of stems would brighten Pieck’s desk best before their inevitable deaths. Accompanied by Ymir for reasons beyond a good laugh and pity, all thanks to their weird non-parent’s sense of propriety. Bringing a girl’s parents flowers wasn’t good manners, it was something out of Victorian era courtship advice bulletins. Near the end, after the two weeks of knowing each other had passed and it was time to ask the patriarch for his daughter’s hand.

Ymir thought she had a good idea of how that proposal would go. Awed by her acute flower arranging skills and misled by her tailored garb, she’d receive the father’s blessing and it would be rendered immediately moot because Historia would never forgive her for involving him in their love life.

“It doesn’t bother you that she’s using you to piss off her parents?” Porco had asked oh, maybe seven times when Ymir broke the news about how she was spending her Saturday night.

“Not anywhere near as much as it seems to bother you,” was the only answer to that, and it still took three more tries before he gave up in disgust and stopped blocking the middle of the hallway so she could go to bed.

Porco had weird ideas about family. Namely, that they were supposed to like each other. His blood parents were dead, automatically promoting them and everyone remotely like them to sainthood. His brother was so fervently adored that any first year psych student would gleefully attach a complex to it. He seemed to find it personally offensive that Historia couldn’t stand the people who hired her a personal driver.

Ymir would have loved not to care. She’d spent most of the previous night happily not caring. She’d spent most of their friendly afternoon jaunt to the neighborhood flower shop not caring. Pock had responded by making it his life mission to do enough caring for both of them. If he didn’t have the stress of not asking Pieck to dance to look forward to, he’d still be ranting her ears off.

“You don’t even want to date her!”

Way to state the obvious. That hadn’t been worth any response at all.

Ymir looked around at the colorful displays surrounding them. All perfectly designed to suit Porco’s purposes of failing to ask a girl out, none of them meant to check off a politeness box that had been summoned out of thin air to make her life more difficult.

Garish wasn’t going to play. No matter how badly the bright colors clashed, all the flowers were too healthy and friendly to get away with being used as a fuck you collage. She needed something with contrast to bring out that deliberate eye-gouging quality. Some of the lighter carnations could work. Classy and decorative in a clump, but put them next to something with some flair…

“Ymir?”

Ymir tilted her head Porco’s way and walked over to a selection of painfully sunny sunflowers. “What now?”

The follow-up didn’t follow through. His shoes squeaked and his jacket rustled while Ymir carefully mapped out her success of floral offense. Signs pointed to a talk happening.

“I—never mind,” Porco muttered.

One of those talks, then. Ymir rolled her eyes and searched out the heliotropes. Past experience dictated no gathering of custom bouquets herself, because the cashier would cry, and that would hold them up, but the second she said she was done and they fetched Pieck her tulips, Porco would be back to questioning everyone else’s life choices instead of his own.

“It’s too late to be her real date,” Ymir said, stopping to smell the roses. “You should have said something earlier if that’s what you wanted.”

Porco crossed his arms and scowled at the hydrangeas. Somehow they failed to burst into flames. Maybe because he looked closer to bursting into tears.

Ymir took magnanimous pity on her baby brother. “Just do what you always do: Wait for her to ask you to dance, and instead of mumbling and letting her drag you away, tell her you don’t want it to be a friend dance. She smiles, your heart melts, you live happily ever after, and I owe Marcel ten bucks.”

“Marcel wouldn’t bet on this,” Porco said, showing off the kind of deep misunderstanding only idolatry could foster. “He likes me.”

“That’s why he bet on you growing a pair,” Ymir said. “Don’t go letting your big brother down, now.”

Porco sulked. He had a way of doing it audibly.

They were through the purchase of Ymir’s custom monstrosity and Pieck’s much lovelier tulips before he brought it up again. A true sign of growth; last year he’d started the conversation once and then sworn her to absolute secrecy.

“You think she’d want to? If I asked?”

A flash of Historia’s wide eyes under the snack shack lights came to mind. A glimmer of a smile that matched the glitter on her cheek, all of her face lit up by Ymir.

“Sure,” Ymir said distantly, “girls like it when you show some initiative.”

----

“You keep tugging at your sleeves and I’m gonna feel insulted.”

Ymir dropped her hand from her suit jacket. “Dressing up three times a year isn’t enough to get used to formalwear. Perfect fit or not.”

Kenny didn’t bother dignifying her with a look. He was driving, and whatever Parenting 101 class he had crashed oh so many years ago had drilled not taking his eyes off the road with children present into his head better than a construction crew. He simply took the next turn, and drawled, “Funny, and here I thought it had something to do with your nerves making a fuss over this girl.”

Did no one ever stop to consider that if she wanted their thoughts about this, she’d ask for it? “Could also be that your shortcut landed us in the middle of nowhere and there’s nothing else to do but pluck threads.”

“Ymir, if you’d caught a single thread out of place, you’d be crowing about it ‘till the end of next month.” He took another turn. Second-to-last one, if Ymir was counting. “Find a better excuse or rub two brain cells together and work out how to stop lying.”

Ymir rolled her eyes and continued looking out the window. The winding road they were heading down was pure black-and-white movie horror. All they needed was some lightning. If the Reisses hadn’t already splurged on it, they ought to invest in a drawbridge and a moat. Great for parties.

Cowboy Dad had volunteered to drive her, and keeping up with his creepy way of knowing too much about everything, had told her they were taking a shortcut he knew before she had a chance to hand over the address. She’d told him she needed to be dropped off at the guest house, which was a fucking thing, so maybe his idea of how to get there could use some help, and got a shrug.

With the look he’d given her bouquet when she presented it, she’d call it a punishment, but passive wasn’t his brand of aggression either. Punishments were delivered with a highlighted anvil.

She pulled at her tie. Kenny sighed loudly.

One last turn, and they came back to civilization. Or some over-glammed approximation of it. A large stretch of road away, a gate shrouded in floodgates heralded their destination, and if it had a giant R in the middle of it, Ymir would have a great start to her bingo card for the night’s festivities. Historia had written the security code for it down on her hand the night before.

The car slowed halfway down the street, going at the speed society could agree belonged to stalkers or people who didn’t know how  to read maps.

“You got everything?” Kenny asked for the third time that hour.

‘Everything’ in this case meant Ymir, the invited one, her phone, the toy she’d brought along for another tally in her win column with Historia, and the gate crashing flowers. “Yeah,” Ymir said.

Heading up the slight hill to the cliché gate, Kenny dotted in the code smoothly, and open the spiked monstrosity went. Step one of the night accomplished. Historia hadn’t explicitly said that she wanted Ymir to avoid talking to anyone on the property until they laid eyes or other parts on each other, but Ymir could read between the lines. Her invite said to show up an hour early and head over to where the staff wasn’t preparing for the party. Until the curtain rose, Ymir was invisible and waiting in the wings.

They drove by the house, also known as an affront to taste so brightly lit that Ymir had to blink several times to confirm that it hadn’t been decked in four stories of cheap Christmas lights, and hit the side road that would lead to the guest house.

Ymir had never had much money, but she had trouble imagining a world where she’d look at her grand mansion with its sixty bathrooms and forty bedrooms, and decide that what it really needed was a smaller house next to it. Just to remind the first house how much better it was than everything around it.

Kenny rolled the car to a stop in front of the whipping house, and in a move that said she wasn’t the only one feeling the horror vibes tonight, killed the engine. He turned to her with his parent face on.

“A few ground rules before you go in there,” he said.

“Was there some reason you couldn’t do this at home, or—”

“No drinking.”

Ymir unbuckled her seatbelt to slouch more effectively in her seat. “Kuchel was just giving Marcel and Pock this lecture,” she said. “If you wanted me to hear it, we could have left five minutes later.”

“Sunshine,” Kenny said, “you’ve never partied with rich people before. All you know about these folks is that a girl you like can’t stand them, and each one’ll have a lawyer on speed dial so they don’t catch consequences when they show off for their fancy friends. That’s not company you want to lose your wits around. No drinking.”

“Great. Next up?”

“No having sex with this girl until you see a clean lab report.”

Ymir was too fucking young and too removed from the blood pressure problems Porco had to worry about a heart attack at her age, but for a second her cardiovascular system, built up by all the recent running, submitted to blind horror and slammed her chest with a sledgehammer.

“What.”

Parent of the Year, showing his usual concern for his offspring, propped his elbow against the steering wheel. Not a sign of remorse or pity in his eyes, he said, “You want to go about devirgining yourself, you do it safely. No letting your hormones go so wild you need a medical consult.”

Ymir took a second to pave over her new mental scars. “Right, I’ll just send her off for one instead,” she said. That’s what all the appealing sexual partners did these days. ‘I really want to jump your bones, won’t you pee in this cup for me?’ With a dash of ‘my dad wants confirmation that you are as much of a touch-starved virgin as everything you do says you are.’ The absolute pinnacle of game.

Kenny was the sort of guy who had probably met sympathy once in a bar and shot it. “You want your bits to fall off, or you want a fun time?”

The bad answer to that was that Ymir just wanted Historia. In a lot of ways and positions, all perfectly lewd. Only when the thought popped up, all she could think of was the marker against her cheek.

“Asking her for clerical proof of how diseased she is sounds like a real riot,” Ymir said instead.

“You can’t work your way around that, you’re too young to be having sex,” Kenny said. “Falling head over heels down a flight of stairs is how you get concussions, and I have enough of that to worry about with your brother.”

This conversation was a better case for not skipping the homecoming dance than anything the school had ever come up with, and it was unfair to the nth degree that she’d still rather be sitting outside the reject house. Unquestionably, which meant, put together with Kenny’s magic sleuthing powers, Ymir was now promised one more fun conversation with Historia in her future, putting to graphic verbal life all the things she thought about doing to her and couldn’t, because they didn’t have the right paperwork. Historia would definitely be on board with that. Things to look fucking forward to in the middle of looking forward to fucking.

Cowboy Dad was committed to his parenting course. He could write his dissertation on this feat of manipulation and emotional trauma. Jackass.

“Fine, great, anything else you want to ruin?”

Kenny unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his side of the car. “Your tie needs sorting. Out you get.”

Ymir rolled her eyes and stepped out into the night under the shadow of the guest house. Since it wasn’t drowned in lights, it was actually capable of casting a shadow. Kenny rounded the car and began his deliberately pointed adjustment of her suit, undoing all of the casual muss Ymir had fidgeted her way into. He saved the tie for last, securing it much tighter than her style called for.

“Anything goes wrong, or you need pickup early, you call. Got that?” he asked.

“Are you trying to make up for not knowing me when I was five?”

His large hands held her head. “Got it, kid?”

Way, way too committed to the parenting thing. Ymir made a show of sighing, and saluted him with the ugly bouquet of flowers he’d coerced her into buying. “Got it, cowboy.”

He pecked the top of her head. “Then you’re all set. Have fun, keep the stupid to the minimum, and don’t be afraid to use a fake name if someone’s too interested.” He set her free and clapped her on the back. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Umbilical cord officially cut for the evening, Ymir sauntered off to the doorstep, respectfully resolving to fix her tie once she was inside.

With Historia.

So much better than homecoming.

Next

[simkjrs]

assorted fic/msa asks

Anonymous said: msa izuku while an Official Of The Law tries to stop him from doing his usual cryptic stunts: hey where can i go to file a complaint? its not formal. fuck you.

this is just the right level of irritation, sarcasm, and wit to come straight from msa izuku’s mouth. i love that

Anonymous said: someone asks msa izuku what he wants to be when he grows up. he stares at the floor angrily. "a concept. if even that," he says. no one knows how to respond. the silence stretches.

god this is PRISTINE. the silence stretches. im laughing you’ve captured the quintessential msa izuku experience!!!

Anonymous said: msa izuku's saving grace yet achille's attention-pulling heel is his ability to circumvent the powers people use to attack him, linear narratives, and any expectations placed on him

nfljsdfjsd yeah. his greatest strength and greatest weakness... it’s so funny to write. i love it

Anonymous said:  kirishima: deku we actually dont want to screw you over msa izuku: that sounds fake but ok

YEP! thats pretty much it

Anonymous said: Thinking about the wording of MSA!Izuku's deal with Kirishima, Kirishima might actually be able to take advantage of Izuku abusing the wording of the deal. So Kirishima could use the fact that he literaly cannot keep Izuku anywhere and that Izuku could ditch at any time in order to have an actual conversation with him. After all, Izuku always has a way out.

you fucking got me there. completely nailed it

Anonymous said: does msa iz/uku have to deal with shitty dreams too? like trauma from spirit shenanigans comes back to bite him in the ass in his sleep?

yeah there sure is a lot of trauma going around. like, look at this comment i got from crossy, i feel like this is one of the funniest things anyone has ever said about msa

Anonymous said: Okay... blink if the adult supervision in MSA is Aizawa....

you all know me so well!! fucking called me out!!!

Anonymous said: eyy u know that art u made of ritsu on ur art blog, "ritsu's range of normal human emotions?" the part where it said disattached from the social dogma? i imagines that as ur msa!izuku and skdnfsj o h m y g o d

im laughing!!! youre completely right. i need to redraw the panel now

Anonymous said: where is izuku's guardian spirit, you ask? theory: izuku is his own guardian spirit. he finds out and "well i must be doing a pretty shitty job. i hate myself. bye"

Anonymous said: ..... izuku is a gaurdian spirit but his ""quirk"" is being alive...... thats why getting his quirk shut off by eraserhead compeltely shut his body off

YOU ARE... almost completely correct

Anonymous said: since msa mido is like half a quirk himself does that mean he's his own guardian spirit? because if that was true and you told him that he would be so so tired. "my life's a sick joke already but thanks for that addition" or something. this poor child.

that’s pretty much the mindset he wakes up with every day!

Anonymous said: Ok so idk if im the only one who does this but whenever i read fanfic/any kind of writing i kinda come up with like a general color palette that fits with the whole story or like colors from a certain time of day or somethin as a general base for any fanart i might make for the thing but for Byggualom i imagine pinkish, orangey golden sunset colors with hints of plant greens and reds and for msa i imagine a lot of things happening in almost completely grayscale with gold highlights and-(1)

(2)- surreal moments where a bright/contrasting color is present(like the scene where the fox spirit appeared with the red eyes against the silver fur

that’s really cool! i love the sunset colors for byggualom, and the black and white is certainly a fitting ominous atmosphere for msa :^) 

Anonymous said: of fucking course fucking msa/villain izuku was there, MSA/villain fucking Izuku is always there. it’s like one of those universal laws of reality. whenever life takes a turn for the utterly insane, and or disturbingly lethal, msa/villain izuku is somehow right in the middle of it. looking innocent. like a fluffy bunny rabbit. with an innocent look in its eyes and an entire city reduced to rubble in the background, on fire. (I did both b/c I love both the dysfunctional dorks(and both made sense

i think this is more applicable to villain izuku. msa izuku will also be there in the middle of whatever chaos is happening, but he will not look innocent, he will look pissed and tired. you think YOU’RE tired of this bullshit? hah! you should hear about what he’s been doing all day. and no he’s not going to tell you, he’s just going to gripe about it endlessly while also furiously trying to fix everything that went wrong. 

other than that... this is rlly good. i love that. thanks for sending it in

Anonymous said: since i found out u listen to sea wolf the song "spirit horse" has just been violently playing in the background when i think of msa like thanks (not even sarcastically i love seawolf)

hell yeah, love that.... the song’s a bit too horse-y for me to put it on my msa playlist but you know what? its good

Anonymous said: Hey! Just wanted to let you know I ADORE your writing. Your OPM AU (that's what I always call it, I can never remember the acronym) is amazing and I've reread it twice. I decided to give your MSA story a try the other day and I LOVED that one as well. I was initially hoping for a OPM AU update but now I'm psyched as hell for MSA. Thank you so much for your amazing work. Just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy both stories :) Have a great day

thank you! i’m happy you enjoy both fics so much <3 

Anonymous said: hi you’re an amazing artist/writer and I hope you have a great day :)

thank you!! i have been having some pretty great days, which is nice, i hope you are doing well too!

Anonymous said: ive reread msa for the like 5th time today and just wanted to tell you what an awesome job you did and i absolutely adore it and hope you have an amazing week!!!

i cant believe you’ve read it so many times!!! i’m glad you like it so much, and i hope you have a great week as well!

Anonymous said: Hey, *finger guns*, I really love your writing!

well guess what... i love you,

Anonymous said: All your stories are so good! I cryyyyy x

thanks! im crying also

Anonymous said: I'm so fucken hyped for literally all you bnha fan-fiction/head-cannons like seriously how do you even come up with ALL of it?!?!?!

mostly i just... actively put characters into situations that i think would be hilarious, or dream up bits of dialogue that spur me to craft an entire backstory just so i can lead up to the one moment. helps to have friends who encourage you to become increasingly unhinged from canon though.

Anonymous said: have *clap* a *clap* nice *clap* day

you too! 

Anonymous said: Okay you prolly get this loads but I freaking love everything you write! Everything is written so well and I die every time you update bc it's so good! I will happily wait five years to read any new chapter if it's written this well okay I'm rambling I love you have a nice day!

this is so nice.... thank you.... 

Anonymous said: HOLY SHIT, ANOTHER NONBINARY FIC WRITER!!! YO WHATS UP!!! WE'RE A P RARE BREED... HELL YEAH THOUGH!!! UR FICS R SUPER COOL UR SUCH A BIG INSPIRATION TO ME!! I HOPE U HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY + YOU NEVER GET WRITERS BLOCK + YOUR HANDS NEVER CRAMP UP!!!

hello there!!! it’s fantastic to see you!!!! hell yeah [i try to dab but accidentally knock over the stack of papers on my desk instead]

Anonymous said: Hey, I just wanted to say that I think you're doing a really super job with trying to write and do school at the same time. I know (personally) that it's really hard to do even WITHOUT extra stuff piling on top, but you handle the blog with a lot of humor and clumsy grace and I just wanted to let you know that you brighten up my day a lot. Thanks! I hope you do really well!!!!!!

hey! thank you, i put a lot of effort into running this blog, as can be evidenced by the week-long stretches of time between short bursts of activity

seriously though... thanks... i appreciate this ask a lot. hope you’re doing well!

Anonymous said: I just wanna say thank you! MSA Izuku gives me life XDDD

hell yeah! im glad to hear that

Anonymous said: dunno bout you or anyone else, but i see your izukus as homoromantic demisexual(s), just wanted to share

nice... 

im cool w/ whatever as long as it adheres to my one guideline which is that izuku is a mlm

[sakuurae]

Can I please have an angsty Johnny one using 33 and 21?? Thank You ^_^ !

prompts:“Fuck…I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.”“You can’t break my heart like this!” 

pairing: youngho & reader insertincludes: angst, alcohol mentionswc: 2.1knote: this might be on the cheesier side; nonetheless, i hope you enjoy! Sorry for the overused .gif by the way!

The third extensive week of waking up alone had passed by.

Typically your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now—would be cradling you to bed and wrapping his arms around you until the first morning light. Though, those typical occurrences had reached a standstill, and there appears to be no point for them to return.

The relationship you and Youngho shared was unlike any other; honestly, it was as if the pristine coming together of you and Youngho was ripped straight from an old-fashioned romance film. From the first fated encounter to the build up, and to the very end. Distance played a large element in the horribly mutual breakup, and the promise to remain friends only appeared to be getting further.

Walls were mistakingly built up between the two of you as the road to the breakup extended, and they were entirely out of your control. Pathetically, all you were able to do was watch as Youngho slipped from your hands, and, eventually, went out of your sight.

You went through a plethora of situations to get over Youngho: visiting vivacious clubs, sticking yourself in dense bars, or even taking a day out with a few friends. But all made you feel lonely. It was a feeling that was inescapable. Then again, what were you able to say? When a two year relationship fades away all someone can do is regret and blame.

When none of the above worked out, you locked yourself in your apartment and shut off your phone for a good while to focus on yourself, and the alcohol. With every glass you poured of potent, the solitude appeared to wash away—which was what you ached for the most. Despite your mind being lost in its twist, the jumbled puzzle pieces of thoughts, your heart was not. The feeling of longing stuck in your chest until you passed out on your bed, tears staining your pillows.

And last night was one of those nights.

You woke the following morning with a killer headache; once again, alone. Coming to think of it, it was the first time in a while you did not stay awake at night thinking of your ex-boyfriend and everything that went wrong. You groggily turned your head to the window and watched the scintillas of light seep past the folded blinds. It was a refreshing sight to see, and waking up, for once, did not feel as lonesome as it always did.

Well, aside the horrid headache accompanying you.

You pressed a hand to your head and let out a sigh. “Fuck… I feel like Ive been hit by a car.”

Lackadaisically, you raised yourself from your bed and began to trudge into the kitchen, slowly pouring yourself a glass of water. As you drank the refreshment, you eyed the environment outside. It was hard to tell what time it was, but judging from the sun and the heat at its peak it seemed to be a good early afternoon. You wondered how long you slept last night, pondered what you dreamt about, and finished your glass of water.

All was going well for your placid morning. There were no external disturbances, no outside distractions, and no intruding thoughts of Youngho that prodded at your mind. After three extensive weeks, everything was about to unfold in your life for the better.

Forcing a smile on your face, you took a deep breath. Though, as you were forcing the unfoldment in your life, everything appeared to wither down to square one once you heard a series of knocks on your door.

Curious, you began to walk to the entrance. You were not expecting any visitors, and you had not ordered any packages lately—so who could be at your door? Maybe it was one of your friends that attempted to reach you last night, but couldn’t, for your phone was turned off and chucked elsewhere in your apartment.

Humming, you swung open the door to greet your friend, “You know, you should have told me when we hanged out earlier that you were going to stop by—”

But it was not your friend. It took a while for your brain to register who was standing before you; a familiar face, of course, but a distasteful one.

“Youngho,” you spat out.

The entire situation’s weight that began to lift off your shoulders had piled down again, dragging your being to the ditch. Everything was supposed to uplift by now, but with one glance at your ex-boyfriend it took a turn for the worse.

“Why are you here?” you asked him.

Youngho swallowed his breath, nervous to speak. His hair was neatly styled the same as it always was, lips quirked into his signature smile, but there was a sea of purple that rested under his eyes—indicating many nights of restlessness, quite similar to your own.

Youngho needed a few seconds to comprehend the fact that he was at your door again; he took in your disheveled appearance, one that he always used to wake up to. Voidness filled his stomach from the memory and he sighed.

Wondering what he was doing back at your apartment, your thoughts walked down the path of optimism. Was he going to ask to get back together? If so, what would you do? To hastily agree would be an impulsive choice, but you were unable to imagine any other choice. With hopeful aspirations, you held your breath until he spoke.

“I’m here to get some of my old stuff,” he told you.

Your face went into a stern frown.

Youngho continued, scratching the back of his neck. “I tried to call and text you but it went straight to voicemail, and I was ignored.”

“Sorry,” you uttered. “My phone was off.”

“Oh.” Quietude had lapsed between you and Youngho, a stiff moment of thick air creating discomfort for both parties. “May I come inside?” he added.

You tilted your head at him, confused. “Why? What did you leave behind? I can get it for you if you wait here.”

“(y/n),” he breathed. “Can I just come inside for a while?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you stepped out of the way, allowing him to saunter into your apartment. Youngho’s head turned in every direction as he perused the interior. “Still the same as always,” he thought aloud, voice susurrous.

“We only broke up three weeks ago,” you reminded him with a forced smile. The sadness in your eyes spoke more than the words that left your lips, the emptiness that swirled in your two orbs utterly heartbreaking to Youngho.

Those words hit him like a freight train, the impact more haughty than he imagined. Youngho came back to your apartment thinking he was fine, ready to see you again and retrieve his belongings, but he was clearly mistaken.

“What did you leave behind?” you asked him, a hand pressing to your forehead.

Youngho startled, worried. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache?” he asked you. He took a step closer but you shied him away, repelling him like he was a virus.

“I’m fine, I just have a stupid hangover,” you informed him bitterly, poison lacing your tone. “What did you leave here?” you asked again.

Youngho frowned. “Just a few of my sweaters. Those were pretty expensive, so I’d, um, like them back.”

“Yeah, give me a moment.”

You left the room to enter your sleeping quarter; Youngho took a seat on the sofa, his hand feeling its softness. Thousands of memories soared back to his mind from the simple action: countless movie nights, cuddle sessions when you cried your eyes out from stress due to university, and many more. But there Youngho was, sitting alone as he remained unsure of what to do, puzzled to why he was recalling such unwanted memories.

For a second Youngho wondered why he broke up with you. And for a split moment he regretted it. With a heavy breath he stared down at his twiddling thumbs, calming his heart before he made any further impulsive choices. Though, Youngho knew that once he left the apartment with the last of his belongings everything would be nothing more than a memory.

And for some reason, that thought of that was repulsive.

You returned after ten minutes with a bag of his clothes in hand, sweating a little bit from rummaging through dirty laundry and your closet. “Youngho, everything’s in here,” you guided him.

Youngho rose from his seat and thanked you, walking over to your struggling being with haste. He extended an arm out to you, grabbing onto the handles of the bag, and made contact with your skin. It was sheer contact—light like a feather was brushing against it—and there were sparks of electricity emitting from the simplicity. You retracted your hand, bringing it to your side.

Youngho’s eyes fluttered, gaze casting downwards as he held the bag to his side. Amid, you released a heavy breath.

“Are you sick?” questioned Youngho.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “I already said I have a stupid hangover.”

Youngho pouted. “Why? Why would you be drinking on a Monday night? Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you mumbled, walking to the door. Your arm reached for the handle to swing it open for him to exit, but he stopped you by placing his hand around your wrist. “What do you want Youngho?” you spat out angrily.

“I’m just worried about you,” he said, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Why are you worried? We’re not dating anymore,” you sighed.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t worry, I just—hey, you’re sweating. You seem out of breath… are you sure you’re—”

“Yes! I am!” you shot out, tossing your hands in the air in defeat. “You know, Youngho, knowing that you’re worried about me doesn’t make things easier for me to move on.”

Youngho needed a few moments to assess your words, they swam in his ears without direction for a long while before his reaction was able to form. Honestly, he felt his heart shatter at your words. As true as they were, he felt as if you were entirely against him—and for some reason he did not want that. God, did he feel foolish. He felt foolish for returning to your apartment, reminiscing the old, and for being so weakly affected by your words that were practically bullets to his being.

Youngho dropped the bag of his belongings to the ground and turned his head away from yours. “Sorry,” he uttered. “I guess I haven’t completely moved on myself.”

“You’re kidding me,” you said in between gritted teeth. “Youngho, you shouldn’t have returned.”

“I—”

“I’ve been avoiding every bit of you for the past three weeks to move on, and just when I finally think I was getting somewhere you show up at the foot of my apartment, asking for your stuff back! Do you know how low that makes me feel? At first I thought you came here to talk—to discuss the possibility of a second chance, but you’re here to just get some of the things that you gave me.” Your feelings in words finally spill from your lips like a never ending waterfall, afflicting its weight heavily against Youngho the longer you rambled.

“Am I really that easy to you?” you asked him.

Youngho’s eyes widened; he took a step back. “N-no! You know that’s not true. (y/n), look, I was just worrying before I… Nevermind, I’m sorry…”

Your hand wrapped around the knob of the door, swinging it open for Youngho to leave. “You can’t break my heart like this, not again. I think you need to go.”

Tears that began to pool at your eyes started to stream down your cheeks, a signal of how weak your heart truly was for your ex-boyfriend. Youngho raised a hand to comfort you, aching to wipe the tears he had caused, the sadness he had stirred within you, but instead he reached for the bag and stared lifelessly at you—his previous love.

The one he treasured with everything, and the original cause of his happiness was tearing up because of him. Feeling useless, clumsy like a reckless child, he apologized in a hushed tone and started to walk out your door. He considered hesitating, thanking you for everything, but the door was already slammed behind his back. The sound echoed throughout the hall of the apartment and appeared to be perpetual for the time being.

Youngho remained rooted at your front door, water welling at his eyes as he blew the final fuse. That was it; you were gone.

And there truly was no point of return in the relationship.

The following morning Youngho woke up alone in his bed again, and never had he feeling of solitude ever waved over his being to an extensive degree.

[peep911]

Emily Is Away Too

This game was fucking great. Beat it in a day, listened to a bunch of old music I liked, and got one of the endings I wanted.

Going to put all my screenshots, chat logs, opened tabs, and so on below.

WARNING SPOILERS! DO NOT KEEP READING UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY PLAYED THE GAME! THIS INCLUDES MY ENTIRE PLAY EXPERIENCE FROM THIS GAME! I RECOMMEND YOU DO NOT KEEP READING THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THIS GAME EITHER!

Either way if you have watched or played this game before you may be seeing a different ending, but you read ahead if you want. :P

Chat log #1: Emily

IM History with emerz35 Thursday, August 3, 2006 emerz35has signed in emerz35:hey tyler! Peep911:hey emily! emerz35:what's up? Peep911:just talking to people, you? emerz35:talking to people tooo. emerz35:so did you do anything fun today? Peep911:just played video games like all dayy emerz35:cool beans! i played games like all this morning too =p Peep911:that's cool! what'd you play? emerz35:haha honestly, the sims 2 just like your buddy icon! Peep911:damnn, pretty solid choice lol emerz35:really i'm just a sucker for any rpg-ish game. emerz35:what games are your favorite? Peep911:i'd have to say rpgs too! emerz35:reaally? no wonder we're such good friends =p emerz35:we should hang out and play gamess sometime. Peep911:as long as ii get to be player one =p emerz35:haha, you wishh. emerz35:so that was my morning, then i just hung out at jeff's house. Peep911:oh that's cool emerz35:it actually got super boring so i left haha. Peep911:that sucks, why was it boring? emerz35:he was just doing his own thing the whole time. emerz35:whaatever. emerz35:i'd rather be home talking to people anyways. Peep911:yay internet! emerz35:i was thinking the other day. emerz35:it's pretty crazy how our group of friends has stayed together like all of high school. Peep911:i know, it's pretty cool emerz35:i wonder if senior year is going to change that? Peep911:i don't think it will, but i guess we'll see emerz35:yeah i don't know, people have already started to act differently. emerz35:let's just stay friends okay? Peep911:sure, we'll stay friends emerz35:good! it would suck to lose you. emerz35:hey, do you know the band snow patrol? Peep911:no, i don't think so emerz35:listen to this song, it's my favorite. emerz35:youtoob.com/watch?v=fk1Q9y6VVy0Y Peep911:oh, i like this song a lot! emerz35:isn't it grand! emerz35:the music videos really cool too Peep911:where was it shot? emerz35:paris i think! it's so gorgeous. emerz35:i want to see them live so bad. but like, no bands ever play around here. Peep911:i don't know about that, what about warped tour? emerz35:oh yeah, that's the like, punk music festival right? emerz35:do you know anyone who goes to those? Peep911:yeah, some of my friends are going emerz35:oh yeah? i don't think i know anyone that's going. emerz35:what's your favorite kind of music? Peep911:definitely alternative emerz35:omg me too! you're seriously the best! Peep911:lol thanks emerz35:hey! you finally set up your buddy info! emerz35:arctic monkeys lyrics! they're in my info too! Peep911:they're really good! emerz35:so you're like my favorite person now =p Peep911:awe thanks emily emerz35:quick! i need your help coming up with a good excuse. Peep911:your dog ate it! that shit aalways works emerz35:haha, i don't know about thaat. emerz35:jeff wants us to hang out with his friends this weekend, but i reaaally don't want to. Peep911:why don't you want to hang out? emerz35:hanging out with his friends just means sitting around getting drunk. emerz35:and i don't really drink. so i don't know. Peep911:well that sucks, i'm sorry emerz35:haha, it's okay. do you drink tyler? Peep911:no, i never drink emerz35:cool beans, we're in the same boat! emerz35:why don't you drink? Peep911:it's just so unhealthy, you know? emerz35:it really is! i feel the samee. emerz35:haha, so i just panicked and i said i already had plans. Peep911:that's good! what are your plans? emerz35:i don't have anyy haha, i need to find some plans for tomorrow.. Peep911:you could hang out with me! we could play some games together? emerz35:hmm maybe! should we invite other people? Peep911:i don't really care either way emerz35:nahh, screw other people! and we both like the same games. emerz35:thanks for being my coverr! Peep911:absolutely noo problem! emerz35:i'm excited for tomorrow noww! Peep911:yeah, i'm sure it won't be tooo bad emerz35:oh wow it's getting kinda late, huh. Peep911:what! no it's nott emerz35:it is for me! i won't last much longerr =p Peep911:psshh you loserr! emerz35:at least i'll be a comfy loser in bed! Peep911:deuces! emerz35:deuces! emerz35is away emerz35and a magic trick, makes the world disappear. bbl. Chat log #1 Evelyn IM History with punk4eva Thursday, August 3, 2006 punk4eva:yoooo tyler! Peep911:hey evelyn! punk4eva:what is uppp? Peep911:eh nm, how about you? punk4eva:just chillinn, about to paint my nails punk4eva:i cant decidee what color thoughh Peep911:cyan all the wayy punk4eva:thats honestly what i was thinking, great ideaa punk4eva:speaking of colors, i like your new scheme! Peep911:lol hey, thankss punk4eva:so hows your summer goingg? Peep911:honestly, it's been kinda boring punk4eva:aww im sorry, what have you been up to? Peep911:a whole lot of video games! punk4eva:awesomesauce! punk4eva:i cant believe we go back to school in a month D: Peep911:highschool's okay sometimes punk4eva:yeah it can be, like our history class last year Peep911:that class was so great punk4eva:i know! funny how we never really talked before that punk4eva:you still have to hang out with me and my friends some time Peep911:yeah for sure, some day punk4eva:got any big plans for the rest of the summer? Peep911:i don't know, nothing reallyy, how about you? punk4eva:me and my friends are driving up to warped tour on saturday! Peep911:are you going to mosh? punk4eva:hell yes! i lovee punk rock showss punk4eva:whats your favorite kind of music? Peep911:alternative i guess? punk4eva:but punk rocks so good thoo Peep911:my favorites always change, maybe it'll be punk rock next week! punk4eva:yeah! thatd be sickk punk4eva:i cant wait to see senses fail, do you know them? Peep911:nope, i don't think so punk4eva:here, listen to this punk4eva:youtoob.com/watch?v=QUmj3y_263Y Peep911:its alright i guess punk4eva:i bet itll grow on you punk4eva:its my favorite song by them, ive got the lyrics in my buddy info punk4eva:speaking of infos, i dont think ive looked at yours Peep911:i just updated it! punk4eva:arctic monkeys? theyre okayy punk4eva:man idk where my friends are, they were supposed to pick me up like half an hour ago Peep911:you know, they're probably dead punk4eva:lol youre probably right, were supposed to go to my friends house and partyy Peep911:oh, are their parents not around? punk4eva:nahh they are! theyre just like, super chill :p punk4eva:i should probably start getting some stuff togetherr Peep911:oh okay, do you want to sign off? punk4eva:we can keep talking! i just need some stuff in case i stay over jackies punk4eva:ohh i should bring a movie, wanna help me pickk? Peep911:lol, suree, what are the options? punk4eva:final destination 3 or the descent? Peep911:obviously final destination! that movie is pure gold punk4eva:i know right! its so bad its good! Peep911:yeah it's like not even scary punk4eva:it still is kinda! some of the scenes are pretty brutal punk4eva:what movies are your favorite? Peep911:i think i'd have to say comedy punk4eva:oh yeah? i guess horror is definitely mine Peep911:i can't really handle most horror movies =p punk4eva:hey, just got a text punk4eva:theyll be here soon! Peep911:yay! they're not dead! punk4eva:sorry, just texting them back punk4eva:yeah, theyre not dead! xD punk4eva:theyre late because steve had to get the alcohol Peep911:do i know steve? punk4eva:maybe? steve myers, he graduated last year punk4eva:he's only 20 but he's got a fake id :p Peep911:oh wow, how did he get it? punk4eva:hes got a connect if you want one! ill give him your screenname punk4eva:wow, they ended up with alot. i see some drunk texts in my future :p Peep911:lol, that's reaally hilarious punk4eva:lol, you can probably expect somee punk4eva:this weekend should be fun, but my friends are ditching me next weekendd :( Peep911:boo your friends! screww them! punk4eva:theyre going on a roadtrip and my mom wont let me go, i need plans! Peep911:we could do something? maybe go see a movie? punk4eva:yeah maybe, hang out like just us? Peep911:whatever you want punk4eva:idk! were not really into the same movies, right? punk4eva:but we could get a group together and do something else maybe? Peep911:alright, that sounds good punk4eva:just finished packing! im gonna head out punk4eva:inebriated texts incomingg Peep911:deuces! punk4eva:lol wtf punk4evais away punk4evawarped tour this weekend! rise against, against me! & senses fail <3

Chat log #2 Emily IM History with emerz35 Friday, October 13, 2006 Peep911:hey! emerz35:hey tyler! what's up? Peep911:listening to music! you? emerz35:not too much, got home from kelly's a little while ago. Peep911:oh that's cool, what'd you two do? emerz35:shit, my moms calling me for dinner. but i'll be on later, talk to you then? Peep911:maaybe if i'm still on too emerz35:fingers crossed! emerz35is away emerz35shut your eyes, i'll spin the big chair. bbl. emerz35has signed in emerz35:hey sooorry about that. Peep911:lol, it's okay, you gotta eat =p emerz35:haha, so what were we talking about? emerz35:oh kelly's! yeah she showed me this site the facenook, do you know it? Peep911:oh yeah i do! i have a profile emerz35:oh cool! i'm setting mine up now. emerz35:there's just so many questions! Peep911:don't worry, they don't matter too much =p emerz35:haha i know, okay i'm on the last part, i have to write a status? emerz35:what should i write? Peep911:emily is talking to tyler, the coolest kid on eol emerz35:haha okay, i can work with that. emerz35:there, it's finally done! Peep911:cool! can i see it? emerz35:don't make fun of it! emerz35:facenook.com/emerz35 Peep911:ohh, im gonna read your note thing! emerz35:haha oh godd, kelly made me do that =p emerz35:you should send me a friend request when you get the chance! Peep911:sure thing! so what are you up to tonight? emerz35:just going to stay in, probably stay up late. emerz35is away emerz35if seeing is believing, then believe that we have lost our eyes. emerz35:don't worry! i'm still here =] Peep911:wait, why are you away? emerz35:i just don't want to talk to some people =p Peep911:why don't you want to talk to them? emerz35:jeff's just kinda being an ass. Peep911:well, what happened? emerz35:just some bullshit, i don't know. emerz35:maybe i'm being bitchy tonight or something? Peep911:i mean, you seem fine, what'd he say? emerz35:i can send you the chat log. emerz35:just don't show anyone okay? Peep911:why would i show anyone? emerz35:did you get it? Peep911:wait where is it? emerz35:it should be on your desktop, like the thing behind this application? Peep911:i found it! like my desktopdesktop emerz35:i don't know, do you think i was out of line? Peep911:definitely not! you should be able to do whatever you want! emerz35:yeah, i just don't want to go over tonight. emerz35:sometimes it's just hard being there. Peep911:why is it hard? emerz35:i just feel like i'm expected to act a certain way when i'm there, and i hate that? emerz35:the problems solved though because i can just fake being away and talk to you! Peep911:wootwoot! away messages, the mvp of 2006 =p emerz35:i know right! emerz35:hey! randoom question, do you remember my favorite games? Peep911:oh yeah, role playing games right? emerz35:woah, you remembered! emerz35:i'm impressed =p Peep911:i mean it's preetty obvious, do you remember mine? emerz35:it's rpgs too! of course i remember. Peep911:waait, that's not it though? emerz35:uh, that's bullshit! emerz35:hey! lets listen to some sigur ros togetherr. Peep911:i don't think i know them? emerz35:they're icelandic! i really love this album. emerz35:youtoob.com/watch?v=ojLgN7wqc5A Peep911:its pretty good emerz35:yay! let's listen to the album together! emerz35:i have no idea what the lyrics mean, but their music always me feel so happy =] Peep911:yeah, it's really beautiful emerz35:isn't it! this song hoppipola is my favorite. emerz35:hey, cool beans! you put snow patrol lyrics in your info! Peep911:thanks for showing me them! emerz35:hey no problem! i'm glad you like them. emerz35:you have some pretty good taste in music =] Peep911:i just like good music lol emerz35:so have you started applying to colleges? Peep911:oh yeah, definitely! i started applying this summer emerz35:oh wow! you're on the ball haha, i haven't really started yet. emerz35:where were you looking to go ideally? Peep911:close by i think, how about you? emerz35:i don't know, i'd really love to go to school in the city. emerz35:and i've always thought it would be really cool to live in new york. Peep911:oh jeez, i bet that'll be expensive emerz35:depends on where you live! emerz35:i think i really just want to get out of here and go some place totally new you know? Peep911:i feel the same! do you want to stay in new york after college? emerz35:yeah, i think that could be really grand? emerz35:but idk, planning that far out can be a little silly. Peep911:sometimes it's good to have a plan though emerz35:yeah, but so much is unknown, you know? emerz35:and i really don't see myself settling down anytime soon. emerz35:like right now i honestly don't even see myself having kids haha. Peep911:why do you say that? emerz35:i just don't see myself wanting a family. emerz35:i just want to be able to take life as it comes, i think. Peep911:you just want to be wild and free? emerz35:haha, something like that. emerz35:how about you after college, do you want to settle down like right after? Peep911:i do think i want to settle down actually emerz35:oh cool beans, yeah i guess i might just be weird. emerz35:whenever i talk about new york with jeff he always gets so upset. Peep911:what, he wants to settle down or something? emerz35:yeah, i guess so. he doesn't want me to go far away. emerz35:but i think he knows i'd go without him. Peep911:you think you'd go without him? emerz35:yeah i guess. he's going through a really tough time. emerz35:he just wants to be a more serious couple. Peep911:more serious, like how? emerz35:this is pretty personal, so you can't tell anyone okay? Peep911:of course not! i won't tell anyone emerz35:me and jeff haven't had sex. emerz35:i think he wanted to try tonight or something, his parents aren't home. Peep911:well, do you want to? emerz35:no, i think i'm just not ready for that with him. emerz35:but it's okay, it's not like he's ever tried anything. emerz35:it's just kind of annoying to keep turning him down. Peep911:just wait until you're ready, it's okay to not want to emerz35:yeah but sometimes i feel weird, like i should have done it by now? Peep911:hey you're definitely not weird! it's your life emerz35:thanks tyler =] emerz35:if you don't mind me asking, have you had sex? Peep911:no, i haven't emerz35:oh cool! then we're in the same boat haha. emerz35:that makes me feel a lot better =] emerz35:thanks so much for talking with me about it. Peep911:you're lucky i don't charge by the minute =p emerz35:seriously! well i guess i owe you haha emerz35:i'm sorry i stole so much of your night just talking about random stuff. Peep911:lol i really don't mind! emerz35:i guess i just really like talking to you about stuff haha. emerz35:i feel like we're different now, but in a good way =] Peep911:i feel like we're just really close friends now lol emerz35:i feel like we are too! Peep911:are we like, closer than you and kelly? emerz35:i mean we both want different things after college. emerz35:but alternative music is your favorite. emerz35:and we both haven't had a serious relationship yet. emerz35:so yeah, i'd call you my best friend =] Peep911:awe lol, i feel so honored =p emerz35:hey i know! let's give each other nicknames! emerz35:what should mine be? Peep911:how about milly? emerz35:milly? i like it! emerz35:do you want me to call you something besides tyler? Peep911:yeah i guess emerz35:what'll it be! Peep911:Ty emerz35:Ty? it suits you, i like it! emerz35:awe man, i think i need to get off the computer now. Peep911:is it bed time? emerz35:nahh, my mom needs to look at emails or something Peep911:you need your own computer! emerz35:haha, i knoow i do. emerz35:thanks again for everything tonight. Peep911:lol, it was nothing emerz35:i'll talk to you again soon okay? Peep911:see ya! emerz35has signed out

Extra Chat Log #1 Emily’s Arguement

IM History with buddy jradio49 Friday, October 13, 2006 emerz35 (7:18:02 PM)signed in jradio49 (7:19:10 PM):hey emily! emerz35 (7:19:30 PM):hey, what's up? jradio49 (7:19:39 PM):nm u? emerz35 (7:19:58 PM):nothing much. jradio49 (7:20:12 PM):so when are u coming over? emerz35 (7:21:04 PM):i don't know if i can tonight. emerz35 (7:21:13 PM):i have a lot of homework to do. jradio49 (7:21:25 PM):u can just do it here! emerz35 (7:21:48 PM):it's like project kind of stuff. emerz35 (7:21:57 PM):i really don't think i can come. jradio49 (7:22:08 PM):oh come on emily, weve had this plan all week emerz35 (7:22:27 PM):i know, i'm sorry. jradio49 (7:22:33 PM):are u rly not going to come over? jradio49 (7:22:39 PM):i had a whooole night planned for us emerz35 (7:22:56 PM):i don't think i can. jradio49 (7:23:12 PM):HOLY SHIT, are u serious? jradio49 (7:23:16 PM):wtf emily emerz35 (7:23:31 PM):look, i'm sorry okay. emerz35 (7:23:38 PM):i told you that it might not work out. jradio49 (7:23:49 PM):i didnt think u were fucking serious emerz35 (7:24:01 PM):well, i was. jradio49 (7:24:06 PM):i really can't believe u emerz35 (7:24:31 PM):i think i'm going to go. jradio49 (7:24:37 PM):sure, whatever emerz35 (7:24:52 PM)is away emerz35 (7:24:52 PM):if seeing is believing, then believe that we have lost our eyes. Chat log #2 Evelyn IM History with punk4eva Friday, October 13, 2006 punk4eva:tyler, how is youu? Peep911:pretty tiredd, how are you? punk4eva:ughh same, hey do you know what today is? Peep911:oh shit, is it leif erikson day? punk4eva:noo, its friday the 13th ;) Peep911:hey, that's not a holiday! punk4eva:i never said it was! punk4eva:what are you going to do to celebrate? Peep911:definitely some black magic, you? punk4eva:yo saame! punk4eva:im so happy its fall, its like my favorite season Peep911:yeah, it's alright punk4eva:are you gonna dress up for halloween? Peep911:i hadn't thought about it, are you? punk4eva:yeah i am! jackies having a big halloween party punk4eva:im looking at costumes noww, what do you think i should go as? Peep911:how about a witch? punk4eva:thats super generic though :p punk4eva:i was actually trying to decide between alice in wonderland and sally from nightmare before christmas punk4eva:images.google.com/search?q=alice punk4eva:images.google.com/search?q=sally punk4eva:which do you think is better? Peep911:i think i like the alice costume the most punk4eva:thats what i was thinking! ill go pick it up tomorrow punk4eva:jackies parties are always crazy, you can probably expect more drunk texts :p Peep911:lol you're a mess, just try to spell better this time punk4eva:i think i still have some of those locked on my phone from this summer lol punk4eva:idk how you understood aany of them Peep911:honestly i didn't, i was faking it the whoole time =p punk4eva:lol, like this one punk4eva:"omg we thinks jackies roof thigh now and starts nerver flooded so butiful" Peep911:you think jackies high now? punk4eva:thats not what i said, but it was certainly possible! punk4eva:hey, maybe you could just come to the party, do you drink? Peep911:nah i don't like drinking punk4eva:oh coolcool, thats probably smart punk4eva:do you like, care if people around you are drinking? Peep911:of course not! people can do whatever punk4eva:you should totally come out and party then! Peep911:uh sure, that sounds like fun punk4eva:the only rule is you haave to dress up punk4eva:what would you go as? Peep911:maybe i'll go as the mad hatter or something punk4eva:thatd be awesomesauce! well take some pictures togetherrr punk4eva:ill add you to the event page punk4eva:oh wait, are we friends on facenook? Peep911:i don't think so punk4eva:then friend me when you get a chance yo! punk4eva:facenook.com/punk4eva Peep911:i just read your survey note thing! punk4eva:oh no! now you know my darkest secrets! punk4eva:so what are you up to? Peep911:i told you, black magic! punk4eva:oh shit thats right! what sort of black magic? Peep911:just catching up with the devil, what are you up to? punk4eva:just listening to music punk4eva:senses fail just came out with a new album! Peep911:oh cool! you must be excited! punk4eva:its been on repeat all day :p punk4eva:youtoob.com/watch?v=vi_VCnuY2AU punk4eva:this song and the next one are my favorite Peep911:this is really good! punk4eva:im so glad you like the same music as me :p punk4eva:seriously youre pretty swell Peep911:lol thanks evelyn punk4eva:i really like talking to you Peep911:yeah it's okay, i guess =p punk4eva:im really glad we sat next to each other in history last year lol punk4eva:although i feel like theres alot about you i still dont know Peep911:stuff like what? punk4eva:just random stuff, hey lets play a game!! punk4eva:i get to ask a question about whatever, then you get to ask a question Peep911:alright, ask awaay punk4eva:and just ask what comes to mind first! punk4eva:if you take too long, itll just be my turn again :p punk4eva:are you ready? Peep911:yeah absolutely! punk4eva:ill start with an easy one, do you remember my favorite kind of movie? Peep911:it was horror, right? punk4eva:yupyupp! i knew youd remember :) punk4eva:now its your turn, quick! ask me anythingg Peep911:hmm, what's your favorite dessert? punk4eva:brownies and ice cream! omg now im hungryy punk4eva:lets seee, have you ever snuck out of your house? Peep911:yeah, a few times, to go hang out with friends and stuff punk4eva:oh shit you bad ass! punk4eva:your turn agaain Peep911:how about the same question back at you punk4eva:snuck out? oh yeah! i just did this past weekend :p punk4eva:alright, lets get serious, do you have a crush on anyone? Peep911:not really i don't think punk4eva:oooh really? punk4eva:im not sure if i should belieeve that :p Peep911:do you have feelings for anyone? and if yes, who? punk4eva:unfaair, thats like two questions in one! Peep911:you can only answer the first one if you want? punk4eva:youre a cheaater but ill answer both :p punk4eva:feelings? i dont know maybe? its kind of complicated Peep911:how is it complicated? punk4eva:i dont know, me and this person have history together Peep911:what kind of history? punk4eva:idk, a messy one punk4eva:steve myers, you know him right? Peep911:is that the fake id guy? punk4eva:yeah, me and him dated for alot of my sophomore and junior year punk4eva:it got pretty serious and i definitely think i loved him punk4eva:then he was going off to college so he broke up with me last winter Peep911:yeah, that does sound complicated punk4eva:yeah, complicated and confusing punk4eva:like, im getting over him, its just weird lol Peep911:are you like off and on? punk4eva:nah definitely not punk4eva:its just that the feelings still hang around punk4eva:when it worked, we were a really good couple Peep911:was he your first boyfriend? punk4eva:i mean yeah, my first real boyfriend punk4eva:like he was the first person i ever had sex with Peep911:have you had any relationships since him? punk4eva:i mean, i had like a fling this past summer punk4eva:but nothing as serious as steve obviously Peep911:what kind of fling? punk4eva:idk, not even like a relationship punk4eva:we fooled around, but like, it was fun not serious, you know? punk4eva:tyler, if you dont mind me asking, have you ever had sex? Peep911:no, i haven't punk4eva:oh okay, well can you still understand what i mean? Peep911:yeah, i understand punk4eva:not alot of people know, but me and steve had these plans for our future punk4eva:so being together felt like a big deal Peep911:what kind of plans? punk4eva:its gonna sound really stupid, dont judge me okay? Peep911:of course i'm not going to judge you punk4eva:so, i thought wed go to the same college together punk4eva:and then maybe idk, get married, start a family, whatever Peep911:that sounds normal, it's not wrong to want something punk4eva:it just feels silly now, thinking about it punk4eva:but i think thats why its been hard to get over the breakup Peep911:yeah, i can definitely understand that punk4eva:i think i still want that future, even without steve punk4eva:but maybe thats silly Peep911:you have so much time, that future is still definitely in reach! punk4eva:i just think people think its stupid when i talk about it Peep911:it's your life, you can do whatever you want punk4eva:thanks tyler, youve really made me feel alot better :) punk4eva:what are your plans after college, do you want a family? Peep911:sure, i think so. settling down sounds pretty great punk4eva:right! im so glad you dont think its weird punk4eva:i feel like i sound silly when i talk about it Peep911:it's not weird at all punk4eva:thanks so much for letting me rant about this punk4eva:hey! i just remembered, its still my turn to ask you a question! Peep911:what! we're still playing? punk4eva:oh, heres a good one! punk4eva:would you ever date someone like me? Peep911:lol i don't know, i uh maybe? punk4eva:lol, alright :p punk4eva:your turn, last question, dont fuck it up! Peep911:uh, are you getting tired? punk4eva:yooo, what were you gonna say, i saw you delete some shit Peep911:i was asking the same question as you punk4eva:we have the same life plan punk4eva:but we have different tastes in music and stuff punk4eva:and you havent been in a serious relationship yet punk4eva:so idk, maybe? punk4eva:youre a really good friend, and i dont want to lose that Peep911:hey thanks =p punk4eva:oh wow, its getting late huh punk4eva:and i still want to shoower before bed Peep911:seriously, time flies! punk4eva:ik, seriously! punk4eva:im gonna goo, but tonight was really fun Peep911:it was aaight punk4eva:goodnight tyler! Peep911:g'night evelyn punk4evais away punk4evai know who i was, when i got up this morning, but i think i must have been changed, several times since then alice Chat Log #3 Emily IM History with emerz35Saturday, January 20, 2007 emerz35:ty! heyy Peep911:helloo emerz35:how areyou! Peep911:same old same old, you? emerz35:im gradn! heyy,you shoud listenn to som musicc with mee! Peep911:haha okay, suree thing emerz35:youtoob.com/watch?v=AS5-lXv_xUc emerz35:its manchester ochestra!! Peep911:yeah, i know them! emerz35:arent theygreat! emerz35:woah its snooowing outt! do yuu like snow? Peep911:i guess i do, haven't thought about it much emerz35:i havee haha, i love skeddung emerz35:hahah, sledding, my badd Peep911:oh no worries emerz35:im sorryy for all my spelling mistakes Peep911:hey no offense, but are you drunk? emerz35:haha oh nooo, is it that obvious? iam a littel Peep911:haha nice =p, i thought you said you didn't drink? emerz35:thingss change i guess! emerz35:because im drinking tonught xD Peep911:just pace yourself, have you ever been drunk before? emerz35:a fewtimes, but never this drunk befre emerz35:i wonder if ill get a hnagoverr tomorrow Peep911:just make sure to drink a lot of water! emerz35:thanks fo the tiopp! Peep911:so, why did you start drinking? emerz35:celebrating something i guess! Peep911:you didn't invite me! what are you celebrating? emerz35:uhhh, just how shit everything is lol. Peep911:milly, what do you mean? emerz35:do you actuallly wnt to talkk about it? Peep911:sure thing! what's bothering you? emerz35:im feeling alittle stuck Peep911:stuck? how do you mean? emerz35:just like nothing ido matters, you know? Peep911:i know that feeling emerz35:i just dont know what to do to fix it Peep911:have you tried changing things up? emerz35:ive tried, but everything kindof stays the samee emerz35:itsjust really frustrating Peep911:is it jeff that's bothering you? emerz35:yeah, i thinkhes like the roott of it Peep911:the root of it? how so? emerz35:were just so static emerz35:i want us to change, i just don't know what to do Peep911:you could take a break? emerz35:yeah, i think thats the answer Peep911:did something happen? emerz35:i mean, nothing in particular, ive felt this way for a while Peep911:just tell him how you feel! emerz35:i try to, like i even brought it up last night Peep911:what happened last night? emerz35:i'll tell you, but this stuff needs to stay secret okay? Peep911:of course, just promise me you'll stop drinking milly emerz35:okay, but believe me, i have good reason to be drinking. Peep911:i'm sure you do, it's just dangerous is all emerz35:so truth is, i've wanted to break up with jeff for a while. emerz35:i tried to last night, but he just refused. Peep911:wait he refused? what? emerz35:i'll start from the begining. emerz35:i think i realized we weren't working in like november. Peep911:did something specific happen? emerz35:not really, it was more of a bunch of little things. Peep911:why did you wait so long? emerz35:i don't know, it's going to sound stupid. emerz35:but there was just never a good time. emerz35:what the fuck? are you even there? Peep911:fuck, i'm sorry emerz35:why weren't you responding? Peep911:i'm talking to someone else that needs me too emerz35:who? why do they need you? Peep911:i can't say, it's their secret emerz35:well it's clear where i stand in your mind. emerz35:you know, i guess i was wrong about us, and about you. Peep911:you weren't wrong about us emerz35has signed out Bullshit Timer Crap That Literally Slowed Down My Typing ON A TIMER (#3 in a nutshell) Chat Log #3 Evelyn

IM History with punk4eva Saturday, January 20, 2007 punk4eva:hey Peep911:greetings evelyn! punk4eva:what are you up to? Peep911:just hanging out, you? punk4eva:just listening to some music Peep911:what band are you listening to? punk4eva:youtoob.com/watch?v=jRehmX3zlwE punk4eva:just a warning, its a pretty emo song Peep911:but it's still good! why are you listenining to it? punk4eva:i just am feeling really down Peep911:is everything like, okay? punk4eva:everythings whatever, today just really sucked punk4eva:youre the first person im talking to all day Peep911:what have you been up to today? punk4eva:i was trying to get better, but i can tell im not fun to talk to right now Peep911:oh come on, i don't care about that punk4eva:but i do, and right now im just like stupidly emotional Peep911:emotions aren't stupid, don't feel the need to repress them punk4eva:thanks tyler, im just feeling so sad and worthless Peep911:it'll be okay evelyn, i'm sure the feelings will pass punk4eva:lets hope, im just ready for today to endd Peep911:well its already night! punk4eva:my brain just wont stop, id really appreciate it if it would fuck off Peep911:you could take a hot shower? punk4eva:yeah, that could help, at least talking to you is making me feel better Peep911:keep talking, is something going on? punk4eva:yeah, it's still a mess in my head punk4eva:i might just need to vent about it Peep911:yeah, maybe that could help punk4eva:are you sure tyler? its just a whole bunch of shit Peep911:well did something happen? punk4eva:its just been a shit day, im all alone Peep911:you're not alone though! punk4eva:thanks tyler, im sorry im such a mess Peep911:it's really okay, i don't mind punk4eva:its just embaressing, i dont want to be like this punk4eva:like fuck, now im starting to cry like an idiot Peep911:talk to me, what's going on? punk4eva:i dont know, i thought this bullshit was over but i guess not Peep911:is this about steve? punk4eva:of course you could tell, yeah it is Peep911:does he still come back on weekends? punk4eva:yeah he does, i see him around all the time Peep911:what does he say to you? punk4eva:we dont really talk, i dont care though lol punk4eva:im very much over him Peep911:great to hear! you deserve way better punk4eva:thanks, hes even more of an asshole now Peep911:i didn't even think that could be possible punk4eva:i know right, fuuuuck him punk4eva:yo? you even around? Peep911:sorry, i just had to do a thing punk4eva:are you busy with something? maybe i should just go Peep911:i don't want you to go! tell me what's going on punk4eva:okay, you just have to promise to not tell anyone Peep911:i promise, my lips are sealed punk4eva:well, something really stupid happened last night punk4eva:and surprise, steves part of it Peep911:stupid? what happened? punk4eva:jackie was throwing a party, so i was there hanging out punk4eva:and of course he showed up too, because hes back like every weekend Peep911:what did he do? punk4eva:idk, he was being different, it was weird punk4eva:like usually we see each other but dont really talk punk4eva:last night he came right over to me the second he got there Peep911:what'd he say? punk4eva:not much at first, just like small talk stuff punk4eva:he told me about college, how its going, how hes got a new girlfriend Peep911:hows college going? punk4eva:yeah, he told me all about classes and his new friends punk4eva:but like, he started talking about our break up, it was this month last year Peep911:what about your break up? punk4eva:just that it was a mistake how he handled it punk4eva:basically a whole bunch of bullshit Peep911:you don't think he meant it? punk4eva:idk, it was hard to tell punk4eva:like, ive gotten over steve punk4eva:but it was nice to talk about everything Peep911:did you get some closure? punk4eva:kind of, people kept like interupting us though punk4eva:we ended up ditching and going outside to be alone Peep911:why did you ditch the party? punk4eva:just to be somewhere we could talk? punk4eva:it was just really nice to like, close that chapter of my life Peep911:yeah, closure can be great punk4eva:but then the dude tried to kiss me! Peep911:wait whaat the fuck steve? punk4eva:i know, what the fuck is right! punk4eva:i pushed him back, but he grabbed me and leaned in again Peep911:holy shit, what happened then? punk4eva:i was so mad, i punched him and just started yelling at him Peep911:good, what an idiot! punk4eva:he started shouting back, saying that i was toying with him punk4eva:then he fucked off back to the party with everyone Peep911:ugh, he has a girlfriend too punk4eva:i know! so i ended up just walking home punk4eva:but thats not even the worst part Peep911:oh no, what happened? punk4eva:so i wake up this morning to jackie asking me what happened last night punk4eva:apparently steve went back to the party and told everyone about us punk4eva:and he said that I TRIED TO KISS HIM Peep911:what a fucking dickhead! punk4eva:i know right! jackie said everyone felt bad for him punk4eva:people were even consoling him about it because he was worried about his girlfriend Peep911:what does jackie think? punk4eva:she didnt know what was going on, i never responded to her punk4eva:but now all my friends are mad at me Peep911:some at least have to see it's bullshit punk4eva:i just feel like such an idiot, i should have seen it coming Peep911:oh stop, you're not an idiot punk4eva:im just really worried i lost my friends Peep911:don't worry, i'm sure it'll be okay punk4eva:im sorry for being so weak and pathetic in front of you Peep911:shit happens! everyone has these kind of days punk4eva:thanks alot for letting me vent punk4eva:what do you think about the whole situation? Peep911:steve's an asshole, plain and simple punk4eva:thanks, im glad you think so too punk4eva:what should i do about him? Peep911:you should call him out on the shit he pulled punk4eva:call him out about it? like how? Peep911:the more public the better, people should see how pissed you are punk4eva:okay, ill call him out punk4eva:and what should i do about my friends? Peep911:tell them the truth about what happened punk4eva:do you think theyll believe me? Peep911:that's on them, giving them the choice is the important thing punk4eva:okay, ill tell them the truth too punk4eva:thanks for helping me with all this tyler Peep911:of course evelyn, i'm always here for you punk4eva:im really glad i was able to talk to you about it all punk4eva:you give pretty good advice =p Peep911:im not liable for that advice by the wayy =p punk4eva:well it helped me figure things out! punk4eva:i was an emotional wreck lol Peep911:oh come on, you were finee punk4eva:seriously tho, tonight was really nice of you Peep911:hey, don't mention it punk4eva:just dont like, go anywhere okay? Peep911:lol where would i go! punk4eva:youre such a genuine person punk4eva:its not often you find someone like that, you know? Peep911:stoopp lol, youre awesome too punk4eva:i guess its no secret that you mean alot to me punk4eva:like i dont really know what to call us Peep911:yeah, i don't really know either punk4eva:do you think were like, more than just friends? Peep911:i feel like we're just really close punk4eva:yeah, at this point i think im closer to you than like, anyone else Peep911:closer than even jackie? punk4eva:yeah, i think so punk4eva:guess that makes you my beeest friend lol Peep911:hey i guess so! punk4eva:we just needd one of those matching heart necklaces now! Peep911:no wayy! are you serious? punk4eva::p, hey! maybe we could hang out tomorrow? punk4eva:itd be so niice to not think about this drama Peep911:suure thing, what do you wanna do? punk4eva:idk, maybe hang out and just watch a movie or something? punk4eva:you could bring your favorite comedy movies over Peep911:but i thought you didn't like those? punk4eva:maybe i just need to watch some good ones! punk4eva:oh man, are you tiredd? Peep911:yeah a littlee, are you? punk4eva:oh yeah! i think i might call it a night punk4eva:but ill see you tomorrow, right! Peep911:most definitely! punk4eva:g'night tyler! Peep911:g'night evelyn! punk4evais away punk4evasail with me into the setting sun the battle has been won, but war has just begun

Btw I didn’t want to be stuck with the best friends thing, I wanted normal friends, but no fuck you user EITHER BEST FRIENDS/LOVERS OR LONER TOWN! Besides the lack of diversity in choices in some sections and that timer slow down crap... the game was pretty damn good.

Chat Log #4 Evelyn

IM History with punk4eva Sunday, April 22, 2007 punk4eva:hey best frann! Peep911:hii evelyn! punk4eva:i know we already chilled today, but i miss yaa! Peep911:lol, you dorkk! punk4eva:psshh, if anyones the dork its you! :p punk4eva:so what are youu up to? Peep911:absolutely nothingg, you? punk4eva:well, i shouldd work on this writing project due tomorrow Peep911:lol, its due tomorrow!? punk4eva:aahhh i know! im the worstt, we have to write a poem Peep911:is there like a prompt for it? punk4eva:yeah but its superr vague, what should i write about? Peep911:i dunno, some deep shitt or something punk4eva:lol okay, i think i can do thatt, i really like this class Peep911:hopefully an easy a too :p, anyone i would know in it? punk4eva:i dont think so? i didnt know anyone punk4eva:but some of the people in it are pretty cool Peep911:sounds like a good last semester class :p punk4eva:oh yo! guess what? Peep911:chicken butt! punk4eva:lolol :p punk4eva:ive been trying to get into alternative because its your favorite punk4eva:and i found a song thats like halfway there! Peep911:what do you mean halfway? punk4eva:check it out! punk4eva:youtoob.com/watch?v=iJ62E8yv-Tc Peep911:lol well, at least you tried your best :p punk4eva:lol, hey thanks! :p punk4eva:oh mann, jackies blowing up my phone right now Peep911:uh ohh, whats it about? punk4eva:oh nothing crazy, shes trying to plan a big party Peep911:what kind of party? punk4eva:an antiprom party, shes going all out Peep911:oh cool, there going to be lots of drinking? punk4eva:im sure lol, i dont know if i want to go tho Peep911:because your old friends will be there? punk4eva:nahh, its just the same night as prom punk4eva:what would you want to do? Peep911:lets skip that prom shitt togetherr punk4eva:lol, sounds good to me :p punk4eva:im jazzedd for our antiprom escapade! Peep911:you dorkk :p punk4eva:what should we do instead do you think? Peep911:lets go the movies! punk4eva:yeah! lets do it! punk4eva:what do you want to see? Peep911:how about a horror movie, theyre your favorite right? punk4eva:yes they are, that sounds swell! punk4eva:should we try and convince other people to come with us? Peep911:yeah! anyone can come, the more the merrierr punk4eva:okay cool! maybe itll be a pre jackies party thing Peep911:yeah, ill invite some friends too! punk4eva:were gonna have a huge group, this will be great :p punk4eva:hey, do you mind if i bring up something semi-serious? Peep911:hey, im always being serious! punk4eva:i just really wanted to thank you for helping me with steve drama this winter punk4eva:i really needed you, and you were there for me Peep911:dont thank me, it was really nothing! punk4eva:it was definitely something! come on punk4eva:your advice to call steve out and tell my friends the truth was incredible Peep911:did your friends believe you when you told them the truth? punk4eva:yeah they did, i mean steve was a predictable asshole punk4eva:he kind of broke away from our group after that punk4eva:but enough about that, i just wanted to say it meant alot to me Peep911:it was really no problem! punk4eva:its just so nice knowing youre real punk4eva:that youre still around, even though you know the real me punk4eva:and i know the real you Peep911:of course im around! punk4eva:you know its stupid, i used to think we were incompatible punk4eva:for reasons like, you were a virgin and i wasnt punk4eva:but its really actions that matter, not stupid stuff like that Peep911:yeah, people can get hung up on opinions too much punk4eva:and i was one of those people until i came to! punk4eva:im just really happy to call you my best friend Peep911:oh shush youu :p punk4eva:finee :) punk4eva:hey, check it out! i finished my writing project! punk4eva:is this 'deep' enough for you? Peep911:it is really deep, im trying to figure it all out punk4eva:dont try too hard lol, i kinda just made it up as i went punk4eva:that was my last bit of homework! noww i can go to bedd Peep911:are you reaally tired? punk4eva:oh yeah, suuper tired punk4eva:i just cant wait to get super comfy and warm under some coverss :) Peep911:oh yeah, that does sound nicee punk4eva:riight! my beds calling for me Peep911:you uhhh, should get that looked at punk4eva:what? you cant hear inanimate objects? punk4eva:you uhhh, should get that looked at~ punk4eva:okay, i think im going to turn inn now Peep911:sleep tight! punk4eva:goodnight tyler! Peep911:g'night evelyn! punk4evais away punk4evaill face myself, erase myself, and let go of what ive done

Extra Chat Log #2 Evelyn’s Poem

the sun it envelops me whole while surrounding my soul and i cant wade out

the moon it shines through the blinds reminds me of times but i cant see out

the stars stuck in the sky telling a lie that i cant figure

Chat Log #4 Emily IM History with emerz35 Sunday, April 22, 2007 emerz35has signed in emerz35:hi. Peep911:hey emerz35:i know we haven't talked like, in a while. Peep911:i know but no worries emerz35:could we like, talk for a little bit? Peep911:of course! emerz35:thanks. emerz35:i just want to say some stuff about january. Peep911:okay, im listening emerz35:i'm really soory for getting mad at you. Peep911:its okay, in the past now emerz35:i know you didn't like owe me anything. emerz35:i just thought you'd be there for me. i don't know. Peep911:i just couldnt be there right then emerz35:i understand. emerz35:were you like, really busy talking to someone else? Peep911:yeah, i was talking to someone else that needed me emerz35:okay, i was just worried you like, didn't want to deal with me or something. Peep911:it really wasnt something like that emerz35:i was just feeling really lost and you were there. emerz35:and i guess maybe i unloaded too much baggage like all at once. Peep911:you were drinking, thats what drunk people do, its okay emerz35:oh god i know. i just feel so embarresed for it. emerz35:like whenever we talked, you were always so composed. emerz35:and here i was just being a complete mess. Peep911:hey i can be shit too, everyone can be emily emerz35:thank you so much for talking to me tyler. Peep911:hey, dont mention it emerz35:so i guess we're officially talking again? Peep911:lol, it would seem soo emerz35:i'm glad, it's been a while. Peep911:so what have you been up to? emerz35:a lot kinda! emerz35:me and jeff finally broke up like a month ago. emerz35:and yeah, it's been really nice being single. Peep911:he didnt refuse again? emerz35:oh no, he did, but this time i was ready! emerz35:and now college is coming up soonn! Peep911:so youre basically wiping the slate clean? emerz35:that's the plan! i have met some new friends though. emerz35:one of them i think you know pretty well? Peep911:oh really? who? emerz35:haha, just your best friend evelyn. emerz35:she's really grand! Peep911:you two are friends now? how? emerz35:she's in my writing class this semester, she just sat next to me one day. emerz35:jeff's in that class too, so it was really nice of her. Peep911:lol, that was really nice of her emerz35:it was! emerz35:she seems like such a good person. Peep911:hey, youre a good person too! emerz35:haha =p emerz35:well i'm glad you're doing well! emerz35:and i'm really glad we're messaging again. Peep911:yeah, its been way too long! emerz35:it really has! emerz35:sorry if this is getting sappy haha. Peep911:lol it really is ya loserr emerz35:you're the loserr! emerz35:honestly, i really missed talking to you. Peep911:not talking was pretty weirdd emerz35:i think what i missed most was just talking about nothing, if that makes sense? Peep911:you know, you do like to ramble :p emerz35:hey! i take offense to that! Peep911:i take offense to you taking offensee emerz35:hahah emerz35:yeah this, i've missed this =p Peep911:well this aint going nowhere milly emerz35:uh, sorry, do you think you could just call me emily? Peep911:oh, i guess so emily emerz35:thank you. emerz35:well, i dont wan't to steal your whole night, so i think i'm going to go. Peep911:oh okay, suree thing emerz35:thanks for talking to me though, it means a lot. Peep911:dont mention it! emerz35:dueces. Peep911:peace emerz35is away emerz35d is for.. delightful. Chat Log #5 Emily

IM History with emerz35Monday, June 25, 2007 emerz35:hey tyler Peep911:heyy emily! emerz35:what are you up to? Peep911:just downloading new musicc, how about you? emerz35:i'm getting some stuff ready for college actually. emerz35:summer's flying by haha. have you started getting ready yet? Peep911:yeah some stuff, but not a lot really emerz35:haha no worries, you have time. i'm getting really excited for it. Peep911:excited because youre moving out? emerz35:yeah, that's definitely part of it. emerz35:mostly i think i'm excited for a fresh start you know? emerz35:i can't wait to leave highschool behind =p Peep911:you dont think youll miss it at all? emerz35:honestly, i don't think i'll miss any of it. emerz35:are you excited for college? Peep911:kind of? it should be fun but ill miss things emerz35:yeah, but i'm sure close friends like you and evelyn can get through it. Peep911:i didnt say anything about evelyn? emerz35:come on, we've been friends for how long? i know you're thinking about her. emerz35:how is she by the way? Peep911:same old same old, were both happy its finally summer emerz35:oh! and here she is now. emerz35:i'll let you go so you can talk to her. Peep911:okay see ya emerz35:goodbye. emerz35is away

Chat Log #5 Evelyn

IM History with punk4eva Monday, June 25, 2007 punk4evahas signed in punk4eva:yoo! punk4eva:i was hoping you were online :) Peep911:yo, wish granted! punk4eva:lol, how are you? Peep911:im alrightt, how are you? punk4eva:im pretty alright tooo, just chillin punk4eva:what are you up to? Peep911:just on the computer, about to put on some musicc punk4eva:coool, what kind of music? Peep911:punk rockk obviously! punk4eva:awesomesaucee! send me a link so i can listen tooo Peep911:youtoob.com/watch?v=SBjQ9tuuTJQ punk4eva:new foo fighters? i havent heard this yet! punk4eva:oh man, i really like this song! Peep911:lol, theyre seriously the best punk4eva:they really are! punk4eva:aww man, i cant wait to hang out tomorroww Peep911:oh, were hanging out tomorrow? i forgott :p punk4eva:lol shut upp, thank god its finally summerr Peep911:i knooww, so happy schools outt punk4eva:that reminds me! youll never guess who i talked to earlier today Peep911:well given enought tries i probably could :p punk4eva:lol, okay suree you could punk4eva:but really, i talked to emily, from my writing class last semester? Peep911:oh yeah, i remember that punk4eva:apparently you two used to be really close? Peep911:yeah we used to be, a long time ago punk4eva:thats too bad, sounded like you were really good friends punk4eva:she had alot of really nice things to say about you :) Peep911:shes just really nice :p punk4eva:i dont think she was just being nice though punk4eva:i will admit, at first i was kind of worried Peep911:you were worried? punk4eva:i dont know, i guess im just used to people trying to manipulate me punk4eva:like how steve used to be with me Peep911:what a fucking jerk punk4eva:seriouslyy, its just nice to know youre real punk4eva:you didnt fabricate a persona just to get close to me or something Peep911:of course not, thatd be stupid punk4eva:i know, i think sometimes people obsess over details like that punk4eva:as if good friends need to have the same opinion about everything punk4eva:but honesty is the most important thing, i think Peep911:yeah, i agree, dont want a friendship built on lies punk4eva:yeah, exactly punk4eva:sorry, i didnt mean to derail the conversation lol Peep911:lol, you didnt! punk4eva:im just really lucky to call you my best friend Peep911:oh, shut upp lol, youre too nice punk4eva:you know what i was thinking about earlier today? punk4eva:our antiprom shenanigans :p Peep911:we always have the best shenanigans! punk4eva:we do! skipping prom was swell punk4eva:going to the movies instead was awesomesaucee Peep911:i do love those motion picture shows! punk4eva:im really glad we were able to spend so much time together :) punk4eva:that was honestly one of the best nights of my life Peep911:i think it was one of the best nights of mine too punk4eva:senior year turned out pretty great, huh? Peep911:id certainly say so :) punk4eva:i wish we were headed to the same college :\ Peep911:im sure everything will be fine punk4eva:are you nervous about it at all? Peep911:yeah, of course i am punk4eva:whats making you nervous? Peep911:im nervous about like, meeting people and finding new friends punk4eva:whaat? take it from me, youre really good at making new friends punk4eva:i think im most worried about losing touch with close friends from high school Peep911:yeah, i feel like everyones worried about that punk4eva:well stay in touch right? Peep911:im going to try my best, thats for sure! punk4eva:at least we can IM or text like, whenever Peep911:hopefully thatll include your famous drunk texts! punk4eva:its just going to be weird not seeing you everyday, you know? punk4eva:i just dont want to lose you Peep911:ill always be here if you need me punk4eva:you just really understand me, better than anyone ive ever known punk4eva:lol, even people ive been in a relationship with Peep911:were just really great friends, you get me and i get you punk4eva:i guess so, you just make for a great best friend Peep911:lol thanks, i do try :p punk4eva:im so glad i met you tyler :) Peep911:aww thanks evelyn punk4eva:like really, youve helped me so much this past year punk4eva:and youve just been so kind and honest with me punk4eva:youre the greatest person ive ever met Peep911:lol, aww thanks :) youre too nice punk4eva::), okay im gonna turn in for the night punk4eva:ill text you first thing tomorrow though, okay? Peep911:okay, talk to you tomorrow! punk4evais away punk4evaits out there are you coming?

This is where the credits roll and the game is over! :D

Next will be links that were posted in the chat /w additional stuff I found.

.http://emilyisaway.com/facenook/emerz353/ http://emilyisaway.com/facenook/emerz35/note/

http://emilyisaway.com/facenook/punk4eva http://emilyisaway.com/facenook/punk4eva/note/

http://emilyisaway.com/google/alice/ http://emilyisaway.com/google/sally/

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdXJ0cQuO8Lt04hSdhf25a10Awl9YHTmaODk4Cu5Takwj_ZBQ/viewform http://emilyisaway.com/badassbuddy/page1/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/0fwLvHR7Rgw/ http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/KmtzQCSh6xk/ http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/D2kJZOfq7zk/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/fk1Q9y6VVy0Y/ http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/3MxcbB0SFao/ http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/y7tBuRRqoJQ/ http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/NDHY1D0tKRA/ Really liked this one. http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/9zdNdjF-htY/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/vi_VCnuY2AU/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/ojLgN7wqc5A/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/AS5-lXv_xUc/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/jRehmX3zlwE/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/SBjQ9tuuTJQ/ Blast from the past this one is lol. I prefer Infected Mushrooms cover, but still love this song. http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/iJ62E8yv-Tc/

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/kfVsfOSbJY0/ I got fucking meme’d.

http://emilyisaway.com/youtoob/FlogJqMFaYA/ The music they send you for the credits scene.

Now for screenshots!

I know someone by this same username... wat da faaaaaaaaaaaq

Haaaa

Best DUck http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938290389

"I then proceeded to shout in my head "DORK" after saying I am always serious. This was followed by uncontrollable laughter."  http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938291900

"Wait is there something wrong with me? AM I THE WRONG ONE!? IS INANIMATE HALLUCINATIONS A NORMAL THING! I DIDN'T HAVE TO HIDE IT ALL ALONG?!" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938293597

"I got that reference!" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938291016

"EN GARDE!" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938293896

"I didn't even look at the other options. fuck that guy." http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938294291

"chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiled" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938294998

"CHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILED" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938294735

"fucking Matatat1 got me god damn it." http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938295364

"I KEPT MY NEUTRALITY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!" http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938295990

Credits Roll. http://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=938296340

I’d give this game a solid 7/10. Actually grade wise, not bs grade were 7 is meh. 5 = meh, 7 = great. Great game, few strong flaws, but still good.