#i hope opal shows up very very soon

[beedreamscape]

The Shard is a perfect parallel to the Crown of Barbed Vision

It's evidently dangerous

You can't even fucking hold it without hurting yourself

It'll never reach the right hands because there isn't any right hands for it

It was semi-safe before you took it, you've had opportunities to get rid of the burden of carrying it safely but you all refused

You don't have to keep it or take it or use it...

You all insist on keeping it and keeping it and keeping it-

One of you won't resist the offer of power. One of you won't be able to abdicate that power after you do.

And I am really hoping someone eligible bites the fucking bullet and takes it in

[factual-fantasy]

27 asks! Thanks yall!! :}} 📐

@milk-powrit (Referencing this post)

..Because I don't like Zooble. 😐

Zooble up to this point just hasn't been a pleasant character most of the time for me- She swears like a sailor, is always flipping people off and being rude left and right. Not my kind of character. 💀

Now you might say "Zooble clearly has some issues going on deep down that makes her act that way" or "Zooble is mean to Caine because she doesn't like her body" In this case, I point you to what I said on that post-

"while I know many characters are likely to turn out evil or turn out to be really sweet, I'm taking them all at their current face value. Hope this helps some of my maybe.. surprising? Tiers make some more sense" This was directed at Zooble and Jax. They've probably got some lore that will make me sympathize with them but currently I just don't like it when those two characters are on screen :|

I will say though that Zooble was saved from being moved even lower in the tiers for the tenderness she showed in setting up Kaufmo's funeral.. <XD

@eggnonymous

Little does the egg know I have a frying pan behind my back.... just in case.. 👁️👁️

@i-dogtor-dog

Feeling pretty rough <:( but doing my best.. <:) 👍 Also thank you! :)))

(Link in ask)

Woah.. the designs for this AU(?) are wild :00

@thangone

Woah! Your artwork is looking great! :DD And what a cute littol fwoggy :)))

His voice gets on my nerves if I listen to it for too long- but otherwise he's really funny and I like him as a character :)) I will be really sad if/when he turns out to be an evil master mind/the villain or something :(

They belong in Minecraft.

@neo-metalscottic (Kinger love post)

Hello! :DD I'm glad to hear you liked my Kinger post! Its nice to see him get so much love after the new episode :)) the poor guy deserves it.. <:(

Now Funky Kong, he is in my AU :00 and I intend to incorporate most other Kongs as well! Maybe I can tie in his "traveling salesman" type vibe and make him a brave/reckless Kong that likes to explore new areas on their island..? :00

As for Kirby, the Anime has a special place in my heart. And I also know barely anything about the games lore- The characters also seem to have a lot more personality in the Anime. For better or for worse <XDD

My favorite from the anime is definitely Metaknight. His only downside is he doesn't appear to have wings. <:/ (I remedy this in my AU >:) )

@stupid-thatsme

If I read this correctly, it seems like you wanted some written out explanation or something? If so I'm afraid I cant help you there- I don't consider myself to be very good at explaining art things-

The best I could do is draw some examples and try to explain the drawings. But since you said you already know all the lines and stuff.. well.. :x

@weirdweeb83

Now THIS.. Is some proper Halloween candy 🤩

@holly-opal

Not anymore! :)

@p0wer-up21

One of the scariest creatures on Earth <XDDD

@mrrebel7

AAA THANK YOU!! :DDD AND THAT'S AWESOME TO HEAR!! :))) I hope your project goes smoothly! :))))

XDD I can pronounce that just fine!

OH YEAH ITS YOU! :00

Also yeahh,, things have been really tough for me.. I'm doing my best to keep my head up and get through it. I'm hoping to get some relief from my symptoms soon. <:/ Thank you <:))

That's not a fun fact, that's a sad fact :( I'd rather people never find me then find me through waves of stolen artwork..

But none the less, thank you. I'm glad to hear you like my art! :))

@marionette-jester

I don't know if this is an insult or a cursed compliment XD But I choose to give you the benefit of the doubt and think the latter! So thank you! :)

@the-8th-of-w1zards

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DDD Also I've been drawing far too long to remember my original inspiration.. but my guess is playing sonic games and wanting to draw Tails..? XDD Maybe Pokémon too..?

Meh 🤷 not particularly interested in those guys

Thank you! :))

Idk how long I'll play, but so far I've been enjoying it! My favorite cookie based on appearance is Star Coral cookie. Story/personality wise its a tie between Pure Vanilla and White Lily-

O_O oh dear-

@inkyblots

All I have to say is use references and do you very best to keep the drawing in model <:/

:DD Thank you! :)

Oh yeah, I've seen some of those around 😅 They're not really my taste anymore-

@captain-skyler1987

Uhg, that's always disheartening to see. Thanks for letting me know.. <:/

@hershelwidget

I cant share most of the books I read for a few reasons- but the book you're talking about sounds so good!.. And so sad.. <:'(( I'll have to keep it in mind! :)

[om-nom-snom]

do you do rival hcs/drabbles/what have you? would love some Hop, Bede, & Marnie ones plz!! (also if specified gender is alright could it be fem, masc, fem? ty if you do or np if you dont!)

[Dating Headcanons]

Adult!Hop x reader, Adult!Bede x reader, Adult!Marnie x reader

Hop <3

Dating Hop sure is an adventure at times

Our loveable Pokémon professor in training is just as excitable about dating as he is about... Well, just about everything

Right from the first date you have him hook, line, and sinker

As soon as you're comfortable he's introducing you to his family, he's particularly keen to have you meet Leon

Don't worry, Leon loves you

Hop isn't scared of PDA, including in front of his family, and he's happy to follow your lead on it

Expect plenty of very entertaining family barbecues with Hop always keeping an arm around you

He loves when you visit him at work too

It's so easy for him to get wrapped up in all his work and research that sometimes you need to drag him away for a break

Often the promise of kisses and a fresh cup of tea is all the convincing he needs

Hop brings you on fieldwork too, he likes getting to combine two of his favourite things

I feel like he confessed his feelings originally after being away on fieldwork, he came back and gave you an applin as a confession

Dating Hop is definitely exciting, but he's also a very devoted and affectionate partner

Bede <3

The fact Bede managed to get a boyfriend is a literal miracle

Hop thought you both were kidding at first

Bede was super sweet when asking you out though, all embarrassed and blushing while asking if you were free for dinner

He's usually not the most open with his affections in public, generally he prefers to keep things private

That is, unless he's jealous

Then all bets are off and you have a new appendage with an amazing pink jacket

In private Bede is fond of small shows of affection, caressing your cheeks and kissing your hands are some of his favourites

He takes you out on plenty of dates too

Cute cafes in Ballonlea, nice restaurants in Wyndon, nature walks through the wild area

He's surprisingly doting and makes sure to protect you from any potential league drama you might be exposed to as the partner of Ballonleas gym leader

Speaking of him as gym leader, he keeps a private box at his stadium for you and Opal so the two of you can spectate his matches in comfort

Opal spends most of the time gossiping with you, and sharing the odd embarrassing story involving Bede

He always goes bright red when either of you mention anything but he's secretly glad you two get on so well

Marnie <3

Okay, so I feel like Piers and Team Yell would be so preoccupied keeping boys away from Marnie that they wouldn't think twice about female friends of hers

After a couple years of knowing her and being close friends you two start officially dating

Though she definitely kissed you before ever taking you on a date

You're the first person she's ever actually dated so she takes a little while to feel things out

Piers is the first to know and that's after well over half a year of you two dating

Marnie would definitely be happy if you had something in common with Piers that the two of you could bond over

She wants the two most important people in her life to like each other

Despite her reserved nature she can be quite forward in her affections

Expect her to take charge in turning you to face her for kisses or even pulling you into her lap in private

She loves physical contact, feeling you against her in any way is just so comforting

Marnie also loves to hold your hand, even in public, and she'll tell off anyone that comments negatively on it

Expect to be treated like absolute royalty by the new Spikemuth gym leader, including your own mini protection squad

Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you don't mind me aging up the characters a little, I love these guys and their canon careers post game so much that I couldn't help myself :)

[itsquakey]

Say it with me.

Did Opal-Owl-Flight groom minors? NO

Did Blue-Jester groom minors? NO

Did they go too far up by making a lot of very questionable sex jokes and showing imagery that is suggestive to minors? YES

Are you kidding me??? I was aware that the words “Groomer” and “Pedo” are thrown around just like that on the internet. But…holy shit. So what are these two being accused of? Well. Grooming. Because they were saying some very out of pocket risky jokes and had art that is risky (According to sources of both sides no actual porn was posted, just risky content in which you could argue teeters on NSFW because remember, not all NSFW is blatant porn. It’s a spectrum.) Okay so let’s look at the definition of grooming here. According to Oxford Dictionary grooming is the attempt to form a relationship with someone for them with the sole intention of sex or being in a sexual relationship with them.

From interviewing both sides as well as looking into the two hundred paged doc (which we will get there soon my friends), there was no instance of grooming here, they didn’t try to get closer to these kids to try and use them for sex, the closest thing you could tie that to is the pinup drawings, which I don’t even think Opal or Blue knew what they were doing when they posted that. Oh. And one more thing.

Hey owl. I know we’re mutuals and all. And I saw you already fixed this but I feel the need to say it. You are an adult. I am an adult. We should not be throwing the word groomer around especially when you are in contact with the doc maker and likely already read it all. I understand grooming is a very serious thing however we should remain mostly neutral if not stand our ground a little bit but be open while we listen to all sides of the story before jumping to conclusions.

So what about the doc? Hey where did it go? Yea it got deleted or just taken off public view from what I’ve seen. If I were to take a guess…it may or may not have to do with the lack of censorship when it came to the minors in this situation! Yes, they did not censor a large amount of the minors interactions in this doc opening them up to harassment. I know one of these minors and went to them in hopes of them telling me more. But guess what? They did what most kids would do in such a situation and freaked out, which was my fault for trying to do such a thing without thinking. These kids are basically open to a rain of gunfire now because of no censorship. I thought we were trying to protect them? What’s up with that? I don’t consider it doxxing as doxxing is the reveal of personal information on the internet/ to the public. The info of those minors were public in a way. But it’s still VERY scummy whether or not the doc makers knew that. And to add onto this, according to a few people some or all of these screenshots were taken out of context. I was not given any further proof so take it with a grain or salt. If the doc maker is reading this. I’d recommend actually taking time in making that doc better because all it does is make you look aggressive even if you may have a point in some things. Or just… go to those involved and try to fix it in private so unneeded drama like this doesn’t happen.

Opal, Blue, any other adult who happened to be heavily involved. I understand sex jokes = funny. I understand we can go too far. Hell. This situation made me realize I did a similar thing a while back and how it was not at all cool of me to do. I know that sex humor is a staple in minors and at the end of the day we can laugh about “magic condoms” or how much of a slut Mago is. Here’s the thing. I do think you guys went too far. A sex joke or two is funny and not out of the ordinary (again, I have I think a couple of those on my account if you look hard enough) and I know it’s easy to go take a couple steps too far from the path. What I want you lads to do is be aware that a lot of the more raunchier jokes and images wasn’t okay around minors and you need to take responsibility for it. No defensive words. Just say “Yeah I messed up, but guess what. I can fix this” and I’m not just expecting this just out of you, I’m expecting this out of the other side and those who jumped on these claims without looking into them. Here is an idea for you, what can possibly fix your issue with regards to content within your server. Make a 18+ channel or a series of them, having them locked and people only allowed in by mods who give it a green light when the person wanting in is 18 or older. That way you can post content and make jokes to your hearts content without worrying about these folks calling you groomers. Worst case scenario you get called a degenerate but I mean…come on. If you’re a degenerate then I am 100x more of one judging by the jokes and content I’ve made in the shadows. The adult channels is something I’ve seen in multiple Kirby servers and if you plan on keeping your current server or moving to a new one to protect minor identity keep that idea of mine in mind please. This is kinda like the maturity option on tumblr posts, which if you haven’t used yet for spicier content I highly recommend!

And this is just for Opal. Hey, I wanna say this so you don’t catch flack for it later but author doesn’t equal character is not an excuse in this situation. I understand the thought process of this, but keep in mind you are the one speaking through Magolor. You are the one who wrote him to have this character and you should be very aware that if you use that excuse on anyone who isn’t as open as I am they will likely just completely believe you are trying to save your own ass.

FYI If later on in the timeline it does come out someone here no matter what side they’re on is actually grooming minors with undeniable proof, they’re going to have to deal with my ass and the cops.

I don’t think I will be involved in drama again, unless it’s of this magnitude in which I’d highly recommend saying your prayers because I will not be nearly as nice as I was in this post.

TLDR: Opal and Blue aren’t groomers, stop throwing that word around. Everyone in this situation is at some sort of fault and should just take responsibility like a fucking adult instead of excusing and worming their way around it.

Please do not contact me unless you are involved in this drama or are a close mutual of mine. I’m afraid I may blow up on you because my fuse has been eaten up by the flame of this situation. Goodnight Tri-State area.

Edit: Please read comments and tags as they share different opinions and may cover things I didn’t cover or may have gotten wrong. Thanks.

[101flavoursofweird]

3 for any PL character for the Angsty Sentence Starters?

((I’m sorry this took FOREVER, but thanks for the prompt…))

Spoilers: For Miracle Mask and light spoiler for Azran Legacy

Title: Rewritten

Description: Randall proposes. Angela gets cold feet.

Set: Two years after MM.

Warnings: Rejected marriage proposal, Angela’s controlling parents, Randall’s disapproving father, referenced character death… but a hopeful ending?

Inspiration: The prompt “We just don’t work anymore.” —With Randall/Angela (The winners of the ‘Which ship should almost break up?’ Poll) Also, Rewrite the Stars from the Greatest Showman

Two years since Randall’s return, Angela had been wearing her pendant less and less often, leaving it safely locked inside her jewellery box.

It wasn’t as though she no longer cared for Randall’s gift… but she had kept that coin close to her heart every single day that she and Randall had been separated.

After her wedding with Henry, she had strung the coin into a pendant and hidden it beneath her pearl necklace if she went out in public.

The pendant was like a secret promise— Angela would look after Randall’s treasure, while Henry looked after her, and they would wait for Randall together.

Marriage had never truly been part of the arrangement— merely a show to appease Angela’s parents— but now…

Now that Randall was back, Angela really needed to return that treasure or do… something to complete her promise.

When she finally went to retrieve the pendant from her jewellery box, however, Angela released a distraught gasp.

Her pendant— Randall’s gift— was gone!

She hunted high and low around the mansion. Henry assured her the pendant would turn up soon and no, he hadn’t moved it while he was cleaning…

Retracing her steps around town with Alphonse and his dogs’ aid didn’t yield any success either.

Angela doubted she would have just dropped her most precious keepsake…

It was possible someone had pinched it— but why Angela’s pendant, of all things?

There were far more valuable treasures in the mansion or Henry’s study at the Reunion Inn…

Though, the pendant did hold sentimental value, if only to Angela, Henry and Randall.

Randall… Angela feared he would be devastated when he learned that the pendant was lost— after all those years she had taken care of it— but much to her surprise, Randall winked at her and told her not to worry.

Then… the very next evening at dinner, Randall presented her with a small black box.

They were eating a meal at home— not out in Monte d’Or— but Angela suddenly felt like the eyes of the world were fixed upon her.

A proud, expectant smile transformed Mrs. Ascot’s face. Henry, who had stood up from the table to gather their plates, stopped to watch with bated breath— as if every move he’d made since leaving Stansbury had led to this moment.

As Angela opened the box with trembling fingers, she pondered (prayed) if this could be another treasure from Randall, or a magic trick…

Her stomach roiled with dread, though, when she saw the ring.

It was beautiful; with an opal set in its centre ( Her brother’s birth stone …) and a gold band fashioned from the coin Randall had given her twenty years ago.

Angela’s breath hitched.

She could picture her parents’ reactions— How pleased they would be to hear about Angela’s proper marriage, at long last!—and Mr. Ascot’s frown; disapproving, as he had been with most of Randall’s choices.

If Mr. Ascot was still with them, maybe he would have forbidden any nuptials from proceeding. Secretly, Angela would have been grateful to him.

There was no need to restrain her tears— at leastthose could be written off as joy— but she needed to work past the knot in her throat. She needed to say something to Randall.

He was watching her with wide dark eyes, his mouth slightly open in question, his hands still frozen where he had offered her the box.

“I…” Angela spluttered. She picked the treasure out of the box— maybe she was wrong, maybe it was another piece of jewellery— and she nearly dropped it, her hands were so slick with sweat.

“Whoa!” Randall chuckled as he caught the ring— it was definitely a ring. 

When Angela stared at him, he had to ask:

“Angela… Will you marry me?”

“…Yes.” She pushed the answer from her throat like a stone. A stone that fell into a river that swept Angela up in the wave of applause from Mrs. Ascot and Henry.

Angela clung to Randall as he kissed her passionately, lovingly, with tender relief.

“May I…?” he breathed, lifting her hand. Dizzily, Angela nodded. He slipped the ring onto her fourth finger, where it fit perfectly…

Like a manacle.

-

After dessert and champagne and a toast from Mrs. Ascot, Angela excused herself and retreated up to her… her and Randalls’ bedroom.

Angela gently removed the ring and placed it on the windowsill, where it glittered in the distant lights of Monte d’Or.

Inside the ring was an engraving which, according to Randall, roughly translated to: ‘My heart will beat for you until the stars burn out’… 

A romantic notion— or a morbid one, especially with the true nature of the Azran legacy in mind.

When Hershel had grudgingly informed them about his globe-trotting expedition, Angela had hoped Randall would renounce everything related to the Azran, but… no.

Archaeology would always be a pastime to Randall, even if he had sworn off dangerous adventures and dedicated himself to rebuilding/running Monte d’Or.

Angela was still destined to be an archaeologist’s wife, to some degree…

“Angie?” Randall’s call at her— their— bedroom door was soft, hesitant.

Whirling away from the window, Angela shoved the ring back on her finger. “Y-you can come in!” Would he hear the reluctance in her voice? 

Just to be safe, Angela put on bright smile as Randall poked his head into the room. His hair looked rumpled (Another haircut was due soon— Henry could help with that…) and his cheeks were flushed.

“You okay?” Randall checked, with a wide grin.

Angela nodded. “Yes, I just… needed a minute.”

“Were you blown away by my ring-crafting skills?”

“A little…” Angela felt her smile flicker.

Noticing the tiredness in her voice, Randall started to retract his head. “I can… come back later if you want?”

The opportunity was there; he was willing to give her time and space to process this. Angela could head to bed early, Randall would join her later, she would pretend to be asleep, and they could discuss this tomorrow...

Or Angela could stop waiting, for once in her life.

“No, it… it’s fine.” Angela reached out to him. “I need to talk to you…” 

Away from your mother and Henry, she added silently.

Randall got the message. He shut the door, shuffled towards her and took her hands.

“Randall…” Angela sighed. His palms were warm and calloused in hers, concealing the ring between them. “I’m not… sure if I’m ready for this…”

Randall hesitated for a second, before he squeezed her hands. “That’s alright! I’m nervous too!” He glanced out the window, probably towards the register office. “It’ll take us a while to organise everything— maybe over a year…”

(Not if Henry had anything to do with it.)

“No—“ Angela swallowed as Randall looked back at her. She stammered, “I mean, I’m… I’m not ready to be engaged yet. I can’t accept your proposal.”

Twenty years ago, when she had turned down Alphonse Dalston in favour of Henry, Alphonse had met with her afterwards.

This whole marriage thing had been his family’s idea, Alphonse had snorted. No offence to Angela, but he wanted to go to uni to study hotel management, and he’d rather not be dragging a Mrs around with him!

For the first time since Randall’s departure, Angela had laughed.

Alphonse had known she was still grieving and he’d accepted her rejection with grace— far more grace than anyone had ever given him credit for.

It had been such a relief for Angela in her darkest hour. She may have lost Randall, but she’d still had (some) friends left.

Although Alphonse and Henry hadn’t seen eye to eye, they had put her feelings first.

Surely the man she loved would do the same? Now that they were all safely home, the Azran were history, and there wasn’t an urgent incentive to get hitched…

These past few moments, Randall had been peering at Angela with shock. Sadness, disappointment and a touch of anger soon followed across his face.

Earlier, he must have felt like he was on cloud nine… only for Angela to bring him crashing down.

“But…” Randall exhaled slowly. “I thought… when you changed your name—“

“Back to Redoll.” Her maiden name, even if she was no longer a maiden. 

At thirty-seven, she should have been thrilled that the person she had cherished since childhood had proposed to her…

“—When you called your parents,” Randall recalled, with difficulty. “Didn’t you tell them…?”

“I told them… you were home,” Angela admitted, “and I told them I was ‘divorcing’ Henry, so they assumed—“

“Like I assumed,” Randall muttered. He dropped her hands.

“I’m sorry! I know— I should have been clearer with you…”

“You should have —“ Randall cut off whatever he had been about to say. Clenching his jaw, shaking his head, he surged around the room.

Angela watched as he slumped onto the bed. 

Perhaps, if Angela had just kept quiet, if she had been jubilant like a normal bride-to-be, they could have been lying together right now…

Randall chucked off his glasses. He groaned. “Maybe… I should have asked you… before I went and proposed.” He blinked up at Angela. “I just… I thought we were on the same page?”

Actually, it was more like he had skipped a hundred pages— years of tedium and heartache— to reach the happy ending.

Everyone was still bringing Randall up to speed… but Angela hadn’t quite caught up either.

Randall had written his own a book— casting himself as a brave king, Henry as a traitorous minister, and Angela as a mournful princess/queen who had been tricked.

It turned out, however, that the minister and the princess/queen had remained loyal to the king… even after the king had tried to destroy their city.

In the end— and in Randall’s mind— the princess/queen was still expected to marry the king, no questions asked.

How could Angela explain that? 

She silently shrugged to Randall.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Randall exclaimed, 

“It’s been two years since… since I tried to…” When he opened his eyes again, Angela saw tears. “Is it because of what I did?” 

“Of course not—!”

“Don’t lie to me, Angela— please…”

“It is… partly,” Angela conceded with a sigh. “But it’s not just—“

“What can I do?” Randall begged, stumbling away from the bed. “How can I make it up to you?”

He looked ready to climb a mountain or capture the stars, all for her.

Already, he had done so much. She had forgiven him within the first year.

But this wasn’t about forgiveness.

Angela shook her head.

“Tell me!” Randall returned to her side. Grabbed her hands once again. “Whatever it takes to redeem myself—“

“I’m not a reward for your redemption, Randall,” she pointed out, quietly.

“I know that— now…” Randall’s voice broke. 

Angela squeezed his hands. “It’s not fair of me to hold you to that standard,” Angela intoned, “and it’s not fair of you to expect that of me— to live with the prospect of marriage looming over my head…”

Since the day her brother had left, she had lived with nothing but expectations.

When are you going to find a boyfriend?

When are you going to get married?

When are you going to have children?

Never ending. Never enough. Never, for a moment, asking what Angela wanted.

She had found some reprieve when Henry asked for her hand in marriage— she had staved off her parents’ demands for a few years— but now it was starting again.

Henry hadn’t had her best interests at heart when he offered her that choice— well, he had, but not Angela’s alone. He had made that proposal with the intention that he and Angela would wait for Randall together…

And, when the time came, Angela would return to Randall. Like the fortune from Akbadain, or the rights to the city.

Like nothing had changed since Angela was a teenager.

She was her brother’s bereaved little sister. Her parents’ precious daughter. Randall’s kind, boring girlfriend. Henry’s beautiful, reserved wife. Randall’s reluctant fiancé…

She could never just be Angela, could she?

“Do you understand, Randall?” Angela whispered, gazing into his eyes.

Randall sniffed, nodding slightly. Then he nodded again, stronger.

Sighing, Angela let him go. “It’s time I gave this back to you…” She removed the ring— his coin, his gift she had carried for twenty years— and placed it in Randall’s palm.

Randall stared at it for a moment. “If… If I had asked you before I left for the ruins,” Randall mumbled, “would you have said yes— back then?”

“Yes…”

After her brother’s disappearance, after their family nearly went bankrupt searching for him, Angela’s parents had been determined to marry her off as soon as she came of age.

If she had to marry, then she would have made the choice herself. She would have chosen the bright-eyed boy who treated everyone as an equal, who could take Angela far away from Stansbury, who could talk her ear off about archaeology…

Even if her parents didn’t agree. Even if Mr. Ascot didn’t approve of the girl whose brother had perished in the Akbadain ruins…

“Yes,” Angela said again. “I would have chosen you, because I grew up with you and I loved you—“

“You did,” Randall choked out.

“I do,” she amended. “But I’m… still getting to know this version of you, who I’ve only known for two years…” 

She let out a tearful sigh. “And I’m… still finding things out about myself… I suppose, what I need is more time.”

“I owe you that time, after everything…” Randall slipped the ring into his pocket. Angela wondered if he would save it for her, or if he would give it to someone else…

“You don’t owe me anything,” Angela assured him. “And you mustn’t wait for me… ”

“Will you let me know,” Randall murmured, “if you change your mind?”

“Of course.”

Then, she embraced him not as her fiancé, but as her first love. 

Angela wasn’t sure if Randall Ascot would be her last love — for as long as they both should live— but she would always love him.

She would love what they had been… what could have been… and, perhaps someday, what they had become.

But first, there was someone she had to find.

-

“Good afternoon, this is Hershel Layton speaking. How might I be of assistance?”

Gentlemanly as ever… 

Angela smiled down the phone. “Ciao, Hershel!”

“Oh, Angela…! ” Hershel’s formal voice filled with warmth. “Are you, per chance, in Italy?”

“Correct!” (No doubt, Randall had contacted him already…) “Right now I’m staying with my parents…”

When she trailed off, Hershel asked, “I hope you’re having a good time?”

“It’s been— good to catch up with them, and straighten some things out, but…” Angela glanced over her shoulder, even though she doubted her parents would hear.

Hershel prompted. “But?”

“…I won’t be staying for much longer,” Angela murmured. “I’ll be leaving soon— on my own…”

“ I see,” Hershel said, with understanding. “Are Randall and Henry aware?”

“They might suspect, but they don’t know where I’m going.” (She wasn’t sure yet either.) Angela sighed. “I just… wanted to give you a heads-up, before they asked for your help tracking me down…”

There was no judgement in Hershel’s tone. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone for?”

“Not forever— a couple of months, maybe.” How ever long it took to rediscover oneself. “But I will come back… ”

For a few moments, Hershel was quiet, considering.

Angela thought she heard a baby babbling somewhere in the background. Right— hadn’t he taken in a little girl, along with Flora and Alfendi?

(She really hoped he was happy, after everything …)

Then Hershel breathed, “If you ever find yourself in a spot of trouble— or simply need a listening ear— you will call, won’t you?”

“I will,” Angela promised, just as she had promised Randall and Henry. She brushed away a tear. “Goodbye, Hershel…”

Goodbye, Angela Redoll.

Hello… Angela.

[0oolookitsme]

Picnics and Fist Bumps

Type- One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse- Artist!Harry x Housewife(tuition teacher)!Y/n

Word Count- 1.2k

Warnings- Only fluff and slight financial description.

A/N- I hope this one gets some attention. I get I didn't post for a while, but I've been so active recently, at least show some interaction... No matter how much I try and convince myself that I write for myself, the appreciation is something that's in your hands. Hope you like this <3

"Harry are you ready with her?" Y/n shouts from the kitchen, wiping her hands in the kitchen towel. Leaving the towel hanging from the fridge handle, she picks up the two basket-lunches and places them on the table, tying the two white handkerchiefs on their handles.

Out of instinct, she wipes her hands on her jeans once again. Just as she rushes inside the room, Harry shouts back a 'yes' to her, fixing the headband on Opal's head.

When he does notice her, a slight jump makes him stumble back a bit. Breathing out as he gladly takes in the fact that she didn't notice.

"Bangs really do still suit you, huh."

"Mhm. I'm glad they do- they always made me look good," she laughs sheepishly, setting up the hair strands on her forehead for the last time. "Remember when I let them grow for the first time in your sight and you were really fascinated with my forehead?" She wheezes as soon as she finishes.

Red creeps up Harry's cheeks as some laughter skips out from his nostrils. "I had seen your forehead for literally the first time!"

That explanation just makes the duo laugh more, awing when the baby also squeaks to join them.

Picking up Opal and securing her against his chest with his arms snaked around her, Harry bounces her up and down on his hips for a bit. "I'm seriously very excited for this picnic. This is the first time she's going right?" He asks, moving out of the room behind his wife, who only hums back in response.

They used to do picnics and cliche dates a lot but ever since Opal came into their lives like sunshine, they couldn't help but get more tied down with life.

Harry started painting more and more, pulling up all nighters to finish one and sell it to bring in money. Y/n, who had to already look after a newborn baby and the also house (partially), started taking tuition classes in their house itself. It wasn't long before they recognized their path which led a straight way to burn out one day.

Although they couldn't leave those activities, they decided taking breaks every once in a week would be nice. That could either be taken by just sitting doing and doing movie marathons or taking long naps in the afternoon. It was just today that Harry remembered about their picnics and decided that it was time to take Opal on her first one too.

He stops making funny noises to the little bundle of joy as he picks up the house keys from above the fridge.

Waiting for y/n to fully get out of the main door with the two lunch boxes, he takes the tote bag from the chair and retraces her steps.

"Oh, I had totally forgotten about it!" Y/n shrieks, taking the tote bag from him. While it had some of her own essentials, it also had two water bottles, Opal's milk bottle and some honey in a small glass jar. "You've become smart living with me, I see," she smirks teasingly at him, laughing when he rolls his eyes at her.

He takes back the tote bag from her and lets it hang down from his other shoulder. Intertwining his fingers through hers, he starts rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, at the very spot she had gotten a small cut yesterday.

He thinks back to when Opal was still very young, not older than a year and they'd take her to their college campus. Everyone out of their friend group managed to pull some time out from between their classes to look after her when both Harry and Y/n had to go attend classes at the same time.

"Good Ol' times," y/n smiles beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder when they come straight under the sunlight and on the final street they have to walk through to get to the park.

"It's like the campus was her playground. She was so happy around everyone... Wait! She learnt how to fist bump there only!" She laughs out loud at the memory.

Harry's brain again rolls back to that time period. She's sitting on a highchair someone had arranged from somewhere on the campus- probably stole from a lecture room, and all the boys are standing in a crew, all sweaty from their game practice. As their turns came, they pressed their fists against hers and cheered loudly, making her flap her arms happily and make baby noises.

"She was such a happy baby, I mean- she still is. Very good at socializing," Harry chuckles hoarsely, letting y/n take ahold of Opal as he takes the cloth out of the tote bag and spreads it out on the slightly dying grass- winters really are approaching now.

Y/n places Opal on it first and the little girl immediately sprawls out her limbs on it. Harry follows and takes the lunch boxes from y/n as she sits down opposite to him. Opal laughs in her baby voice as Harry drags her closer to his self, giving her a light cheeky.

"It feels so good," she moans, stretching her back under the sun and smacking Harry's naked knee when she sees him squinting at her.

She watches as he continues to serve the lunch, cheering as he sees his favourite snack inside the tote along with two Oranges.

He keeps on showering her in compliments and cheers throughout the lunch, sharing a few more of his childhood memories with her for the thousandth time. She loves listening to him, he knows it and makes proper use of it.

Every once in a while, Harry has to lunge forward to prevent Opal from crawling out of the cloth though. But they knew it'd happen, so they continue chatting away in the warm sun.

Wiping his hands off the same handkerchief as y/n's, he lets out a small burp while stretching his legs out.

Slowly but surely, Harry completely lays down after very normally taking off his t-shirt. He turns on his stomach, his feet touching the cold soil, but he doesn't seem to mind one bit. He's well aware of the dumbfounded look on his wife's face but proceeds to ignore it and close his eyes- not being able to keep the smug smirk from pulling up.

Y/n looks at him as he cushions his head on the folds of his arms, while she cradles Opal, feeding her the bottled milk after mixing in some honey in it; because she. is. a. honeybug. When they thought they'd teased her enough by calling her a 'honeybug', Harry had passed her the tote bag to let her fetch out the needed bottle.

Opal seems to have dozed off too, her lips shut around the mouth of the bottle and her eyelashes resting atop her cheeks. Y/n cautiously pulls the bottle away and places Opal against Harry's body, smiling as his body involuntarily curves against her tiny one.

Before she can control it, her wandering eyes land on her husband's back. It looks quite toned and slightly tanned, looking way too good under the golden sun light. Wishing she could write her name on it because of the random strangers that walk by every once in a while, (especially the women) eying him up.

Sighing, she pulls out her phone and clicks a picture of her most beloved ones and uploads it on her private Instagram for the boys -now grown men- who taught her how to fist bump, to see how she still remembers how to do it; because in the picture, Harry's almost fisted hand is pressed against Opal's lightly fisted ones.

[myers-meadow]

Hey, I love your blog! Ever since I saw your oc Mischa, I was wondering if you would be interested in making a post showing and explaining a bit more of his fashion sense? Like, telling about which style/aesthetic he likes in clothing/jewerly/hairstyles with some images as examples?

I'm really sorry if I'm bothering you, it's just that your oc is so interesting and I really want to know more about him 😅

Hi, thank you so much! That's so kind of you to say! <3

I am working on a bigger post, and im still trying to find images that I can see him in, so for now, I will do my best to describe what I do know. But rest assured, it will come!

Figuring out a character in appearance and fashion sense is always a bit of a process for me as they shape themselves through my writing, they grow with it. When it comes up in the writing itself, I'll of course describe things in greater detail <3. I'll put a cut bc this will get long omg;;

Mischa has long nails and spidery hands, wears a lot of rings, necklaces, earrings... both gold and silver, sometimes at the same time. Big silver earrings with semi precious stones; he likes opals in particular. He wears black almost always. Sometimes a button up in a jewel tone - he's more keen on greens and blues than reds. I'd say his aesthetic is goth, but even then there's a lot of substyles of goth and he doesn't really fit neatly in any box. Most of his clothing is rather flowing and elongated in silliouette, and he wears long dresses and skirts too, alongside tighter dress pants with a smooth textured, loose-fitting button up. A good wide sleeve, sheer fabrics, laces, that's what I see him in with ease. Gowns I could see him in are vaguely like those Tilda Swinton wears in Susperia (esp the brown and red gowns, but in black).

Don't get me wrong, he is absolutely rather masculine, and because he is a man, dresses and skirts don't look v feminine on him.

As for hair, its rather long, somewhere mid-back, and it's often down, but regularly braided as well. He likes a normal big braid, but also ones where the sides of his hair are pulled up, like so:

Because of magic, time isn't an issue regarding the complexity of his hairstyles hahahha

And here is a dump of images I have found that will go on future moodboards:

Unfortunately I haven't been able to find a snake ring yet! But of course he wears tons of spider and snake related jewelry alkdfjsdf. This got way longer than I wanted, but I hope it was fun to get this insight into my brain akdlfjskfd 😅

Thank you again for showing interest in my young man! He's very flattered and so am I - more moodboards and such will follow soon!!

xoxo

[goronska]

Follow the Shadow (choice #3)

You follow the priestess in a neat file, like paired up schoolchildren. "Hey" you whisper to your partner "What's her name?" "Opal" a smile blooms below his leather mask. "OPAL, MA'AM!" you raise your voice immidiately, when going up the staircase. "Yes?" you hear her voice from above. "Will we get a chance to participate in any rituals today?" you shoot out without thinking. "Oh, we have someone very eager today!" she claps her hands together "How wonderful!"

Your partner chuckles, but says nothing, and soon you emerge outside, by a scaffolded wall of the Main Temple dome. You don't remember how you got in its basements, but you have see the building many times, even once after it had been partially destroyed this January. The works are coming to an end, you can judge it more easily once you go around to the main entrance and look inside. White marble wall circling around a scene, with rows of seats like on a stadium. The roof has been finished again, with red, pink and milky white stained glass, encapsulating the top of the sphere, and letting in fantastic beams on color from the morning sun.

High Priestess Agat stands in her most ritual clothing on the stage surrounded by other girls, and you are all lead there by Opal.

"Dear candidates, it feels my heart with joy that more men, even if too unpure to be Ubisi's priests, want to join the ranks of the Temple Slaves and serve our goddess! Each of you has been assigned a mentor, with whom you shall be training your stamina and rites at the privacy of your new home and the little work out room you can use at your own discretion. There will be two such sessions a day, in the morning and in the afternoon, starting tomorrow." She looks around at all the confident faces you and other candidates are putting up, she seems satisfied. "This will be accompanied by one session of religious practices either after lunch or after dinner. If you finish the whole cycle of training, we keep the best of you in this Temple. Others will be dispersed to smaller cities to serve the Priestesses there. Let's hope you can all satisfy our Red Goddess!"

After that there are 1-on-1 introductions and you finally learn your mentor's name: Shadow. Everything is done in a laid-back atmosphere, almost like a gallery open night, because each of you is treated to a glass of the most exquisite Vermillious red wine, with its flowery aftertaste. Agat herself approaches you at one point. "II've heard you want to take part in a ritual today" she rather states, not asks. You feel an air of both amusement and disgust from her. Does she really thing men do not belong in this sacred building? Or does she hold a grudge to you personally? "Y-yes… I do, yes!" "Hmm.. have you seen the ritual during which the Temple got damaged?" "No, but I've heard about it! The Queen ordered a special Cleansing Ritual to one of the soldiers and…" "And I almost performed it" Shadow chimes in. "If not the disruption… we would perform it perfectly. Could you show our new candidate how?" The smile on Agat's face is done only with eyes, not her lips. It's creepy.

Shadows just shrugs his broad shoulders and asks for an appropriate table, adding a red leash to his collar of which he hands you the other end. "But… but isn't the Cleansing Ritual just some milk, fire, repenting…?" you are confused. "Well, not if somebody did something REALLY wrong. Now imagine I am a woman, all in red lingerie, red collar, red leash. Get me to that table."

You are more than baffled. Not least because you cannot imagine any woman looking at his sturdy body. But what also what sort of disturbance caused the Temple to partially collapse after a ritual like that? You approach the table, more like a block of stone, with your mentor on a leash. "Hint one, little one, I cannot walk more confidently than you do in this scenario." he says and lies on the table on his back. Bending his knees, he spreads his legs apart and puts his feet on the verge of the countertop for support. "OK, do your thing" he says with eyes fixed emotionlessly at the stained glass above. All the other eyes in the room are on you two. Unlike at school, you cannot say you are unprepared or await the best student from the first row to give you an answer quietly.

[wishingforatypewriter]

Year in Review

Thanks @nyamadermont for tagging me!

1. Number of stories posted to Ao3: I posted and/or updated 20 stories in 2022.

2. Word count in 2022: 80,023

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Legend of Korra and Avatar: The Last Airbender

4. Pairings: Linzolt, Linzin, Baavira, and Tyzula

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: The Weight of Empire (Baavira)

Bookmarks: The Successor (Kuvira & Opal)

Comment threads:  The Successor

Word count: The Successor

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): I think I'm proudest—or at least fondest—of An Armada of Shoulds, It's probably my favorite Linzolt thing that I've written. I'm proud of it because it was my first attempt at writing from Zolt's point of view and I think I did a pretty good job with it, considering we only see him twice or so in the source material.

7.   Work I’m least proud of (and why): Agni Kais was supposed to be a grand, sweeping Tyzula reunion fic that touched upon the origins of the Republic City triads, but in the end I only wrote one chapter, and Azula wasn't even in it.

8.   Share or describe a favorite review you received: I adore every single comment that every single reader takes the time to write! It always makes my day when I see a notification for one in my email! But I guess my favorites lately have been the ones where readers tell me I've convinced them to ship something they either hadn't considered or were ambivalent towards before.

9.   A time when writing was really, really hard: Alwaysssss! But especially as I tried to work on Chapter 17 of The Successor (and still haven't succeeded in finishing it). I was trying to get inside Opal's head and write from her perspective, but it just wasn't working, so I decided to take a break from it for a while.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: I enjoyed writing Tenzin in Tether more than I thought I would! Also, if someone told me back in 2020 that I'd become a Zolt stan, I probably wouldn't have believed them.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

"Lin and Tenzin were very different, but with work, they worked. He liked his curry puffs mild and with mung beans, and she liked hers filled with five-spice pigchicken, and it was fine—so long as she didn’t try to kiss him too soon after dinner. Sure, he wouldn’t come with her to Kwong’s Cuisine or the ostrich-horse racetracks, and she wouldn’t meditate on Air Temple Island or help brush the bison, but they met in the middle, with walks in the park and afternoon spars and simple meals at mom and pop restaurants. 

It was enough that most days Lin could forget the soulmark she’d been born with—a swirling flame on the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb—or the nonbender’s fingerprint that had appeared on his shoulder three years back. Most days the soul bond hummed faint as a song on the radio two rooms away, vaguely there, but not immediate enough to command her attention.

Today was not one of those days," from Marked, my Linzolt soulmate AU.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I tried to branch out a little by writing different tropes like a coffee shop au and a soulmate au.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: This year I'd like to work on my emotional range as a writer. I write a lot of fluff, and I'd like to branch out into some other fic categories like angst and hurt/comfort. In short, I'm trying to make y'all cry this year!

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@orangepanic is such a prolific and talented writer (and also really nice and supportive of other writers)! Reading her work always inspires me to get back to my wips!

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: I think my lifelong love of city life has shown up in some of my Linzolt fics.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Write what honestly makes you happy, not what you think you should be writing, if that makes sense.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I have about three more chapters planned for The Successor and they will get written this year! I'm also really excited to keep working on House of the Flaming Boar, my au story in which married Linzolt end up as Mako and Bolin's foster parents.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: Anyone who'd like to participate!

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being Lin Beifong’s daughter and Korra having a crush on you

You entered President Raiko’s party late and hurried inside hoping to avoid your mother’s wrath by appearing as soon as possible. Being Lin Beifong’s daughter and employee meant she was twice as hard on you as anyone on the force, so she would not take your tardiness well. You were waved into the building by guards who recognised you on sight and rushed into the ballroom. You saw the party was already in full swing and braced yourself for all the fake smiling you’d have to endure when a young woman appeared across from you. “Avatar Korra” you nodded in recognition of the girl who grinned at you. “Miss Beifong” she smiled in greeting “you look as beautiful as ever...you legs alone seem to go on for years in those trousers” she commented glancing at them and you blushed. “Funny I just had a similar thought about your biceps”. Korra beamed “ow you can’t really see them in this thing but I’d be happy to give you a closer look”.

You couldn’t resist a smile and your blush grew to have such a beautiful woman flirt so blatantly with you. Korra was always like this around you and you enjoyed it greatly even if it wasn’t professional. Korra was a breath of fresh air in Republic City and you enjoyed her confidence and humour. You liked the avatar a lot but you had no intentions of pursuing anything beyond flirting with her. For one thing she was young, cocky, beautiful and THE avatar. You supposed she had hundreds of boys and girls queueing up for her and didn’t want to just be another name on her list. You’d heard about how the previous water tribe avatar had been a hit with women and apparently that was a trait Korra shared. She was the avatar, who wouldn’t be weak to her charm? Still you tried to behave so aimed to change the topic of conversation.

“I think we should join the party seeing as we’re both very late” you smiled slyly and Korra smirked “I didn’t think Beifongs were ever late. Are you really trying to tell me you’re not perfect?”. The girl was insatiable. “We all have our secrets” you replied and Korra’s grin only grew. “Mysterious, intelligent and beautiful...you have to let me lead you into the party. As the Avatar it’s my duty to serve the people”. “Well who I am to get in the way of that” you smirked rolling your eyes as you took her outstretched arm. Korra led you into the party proudly and you enjoyed being on her arm. Still you were in work mode, so you only stayed by Korra’s side for an appropriate amount of time before excusing yourself so nobody would get the wrong idea. Korra never failed to make you smile or blush but you wouldn’t let it progress no matter how much fun it would be. So you allowed the flirting and lingering glances but stopped it from going any further.

You saw Korra pretty regularly as she was always in trouble with the law in some way or another and not a month after the party President Raiko banned her from Republic City. It was something he’d likely take back pretty soon but still she had to leave so you and your mother went to help her however you could. The avatar didn’t seem too bothered by the President’s command and still had that cocky smile on her face. She let you into Tenzin’s home and explained how she was leaving tomorrow to go look for air benders anyway. She read out the names of some known airbenders in the earth kingdom and you paused as one was familiar.  “Wait did you say Opal? Is she from Zafou by any chance?” you asked and Korra nodded “yeah why?”. Your mother tried to silence you but you didn’t notice, too excited. “She’s my cousin!” you burst “This is so great, i’m so proud of her”. “Wait so Suyin is your sister?” Korra asked Lin and your mother nodded “yes. Which is something I wished to remain a secret but clearly that is not an option anymore” she said shooting you a look. “Well this is great news” Korra smiled “you have to come with me!”. “What!” your mother cried and Korra sighed “if she’s your niece then you can help us recruit her! We need all the help we can get”. “No way!” Lin cried “I am not seeing my sister ever again if I can help it, y/n can go if you want a Beifong so badly”. Korra looked at you and smiled “that does sound appealing, what do you say y/n? Want to come on a field trip with me?”. Korra held out her hand to you and you blushed, hoping your mother didn’t notice. You knew you probably shouldn’t go. Being in close quarters with Korra would certainly challenge your restraint but you hadn’t seen your extended family in so long and this was the perfect opportunity to go visit. Plus Korra looked so good when she smiled at you like that. “Sure” you said taking her hand “someone has to keep you out of trouble”.

You met Korra and her friends at Future Industries the next day and were soon flying to Zafou. Korra came to stand beside you on the deck and leant forwards flexing her arms right in front of you. “I’m glad you agreed to come” Korra smiled and you nodded “me too, it’s been forever since I’ve got out of Republic City”. Korra’s eye glinted “does this mean I’m going to witness holiday y/n? It’d be fun to see you let your hair down and go wild”. “If you’re lucky maybe you will” you smirked and Korra nodded “i’m looking forward to it” and winked before leaving you alone once more. You stared after her as she walked away and Korra must’ve felt your eye on her because before she disappeared back into the ship she turned and caught you red-handed watching her. She smiled widely a chuckle slipping from her lips and you turned around sharply, blushing vividly. Agreeing to this trip may not have been a smart decision at all.

When you touched down in Zafou Korra had you right beside her in pride of place. You recognised your aunt immediately and she addressed Korra first before she spotted you beside her and she did a double-take. “Y/n?” she asked and you grinned “Aunt Suyin!” and rushed forwards to hug her. Your aunt wrapped you in a hug and then quickly tugged you to go find your cousins, momentarily forgetting the avatar was here. She summoned all your cousins and they rushed to greet you...well some did. Bataar junior didn’t look impressed and Huan just glanced at you not particularly bothered but the twins and Opal were very welcoming. “It’s so good to see you again!” Opal cried and you nodded taking her hand “it is! It’s been far too long and I can’t believe you’re an airbender now!”. Opal nodded “trust me it was a shock to us all but i’m so excited to learn airbending��. “Well Korra can definitely help you with that” you said gesturing to the avatar who nodded confidently “of course, anything for y/n’s cousin” and you blushed slightly but managed to hide it.

You enjoyed your time with your family greatly and got along well with all your cousins. You participated in Wei and Wing’s power disk game and being a good metal bender yourself almost won the match. You noticed Korra watching you and briefly tried showing off before getting wiped out. The twins noticed Korra watching and invited her to join but she declined explaining she couldn’t metal bend. Your cousins rushed to assure her she could learn and volunteered to teach her. Korra seemed very excited at the idea and agreed before she turned to you “wait a minute y/n why did you never offer to teach me?”. You could tell she was only feigning annoyance so you shrugged “what can you blame me for wanting something over the almighty avatar?”. That stroked Korra’s ego and she smiled lazily “no but I’ll certainly get my own back in some way”. “Ow really? How”? you challenged her and the girl just shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but be on your best behaviour Beifong” she smirked before rushing away.

Korra went off to train with your cousins and you were relieved hoping this would be a time for you to cool down and recover but no. Opal caught you and invited you to catch up with her in the gardens. You of course obliged your cousin but found yourself seated directly in view of Korra’s training with your cousins. You tried focusing on Opal but your eyes kept getting pulled to the avatar as she picked up metal bending remarkedly quickly. You noticed Korra had spotted you and she appeared to be putting on a show, trying valiantly to challenge your cousin entirely for your benefit. It was a clever strategy and soon Opal trailed off just letting you admire Korra. Your cousins were experiencing first-hand just how skilled the avatar could be and you saw them breaking out in a sweat with how hard Korra was pushing them.  

After a while they began trying to score past one another and Korra got an idea. She *accidentally* bent a disk near you and your cousin Wei teased her for being sloppy. She just shot them a lopsided grin and jogged over to you. “Ladies” she smiled looking straight at you “i’m sorry I didn’t see you there”. “Ow really?” you asked and Korra grinned “yeah I had no idea you were here whatsoever...which is odd considering how every eye is drawn to you whenever you’re nearby”. You blushed going red and Korra’s smile grew “I’ll leave you to your chat. Opal, Y/n” she nodded at you both in turn but winked when she met your gaze. You watched her run back to your cousins and found Opal staring at you. She immediately pushed you squealing “you didn’t tell me you were dating the avatar!”. “I’m not and keep your voice down please” you begged seeing the smug look on Korra’s face which told you she’d noticed Opal’s reaction. “But she was very openly flirting with you” Opal retorted and you nodded “I know we do that a lot but it’s just our friendship. I’d never let it go further because she’s the avatar! She’s not after a relationship she just wants a fun fling and I can’t give her that. Trust me the avatar will get bored of me and move on soon enough”. “Ow yeah?” Opal asked looking to where Korra was still putting on a show for you. Korra scored a point and shot you a smile. You blushed vividly and Opal laughed “I don’t think she’s not going cold on you any time soon”.

At the end of the week your Aunt Suyin threw a party to celebrate Opal’s progress and avatar’s arrival. It was magnificent and you hadn’t seen this much earth kingdom food in...well forever! You made sure Korra and the others were all okay and socialised with your cousins greatly enjoying being with your family. Bataar jnr told you about his machines, his girlfriend Kuvira traded military expertise with you, Wei and Wing quizzed you about all the pro-bending in Republic City, you teased Opal about her crush on Bolin and even Huan showed you some of his paintings. You were absolutely thrilled your family still felt like a family after all this time and hadn’t been this happy in a long time. However all that excitement can be draining. Towards the end of the night you began to grow tired so went outside for some fresh air and quiet. You were relaxing in the picturesque moonlight when you were disturbed. “Well your aunt certainly knows how to put on a spread” someone called and you jumped to find Avatar Korra making her way over to you on the abandoned balcony. She was wearing a beautiful blue dress and her eyes shone in the dark light. “She does” you smiled “never let it be said Beifong’s don’t know how to put on an event”. “That’s for sure” Korra agreed coming to sit right beside you. “The city is so beautiful” she commented before she turned “as are you”. “Thanks” you blushed “you look very beautiful too”. “There’s no way I can compete with you in that outfit” Korra smiled “Beifong’s apparently always look stunning as well as being great hostesses”. “Have you been checking out my aunt then?” you replied and Korra laughed “of course not, I only have eyes for you”. “Sureeee” you laughed but Korra nodded “I do I promise! You’re all I think about and why wouldn’t I? You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met. I’m crazy about you”. You blushed under Korra’s intense gaze but didn’t look away. “I....I don’t know what to say” you finally spoke up and Korra shrugged “well then how about we don’t bother talking anymore?”. Time seemed to freeze and you viewed the present in slow motion as Korra cupped your cheek gently and leant forwards. You liked the way her hands felt on you and instinctively leant into her before your brain caught up with the situation. “Wait! Korra I can’t” you said your heart hammering in your chest and the avatar frowned inches away from you. “You can’t? why? Do you not find me attractive?” Korra asked. “No of course I find you very attractive, i’ve never seen a human being I find more attractive than you” you admitted very flustered. “Then what’s the problem?” Korra asked and you sighed “the problem is I don’t just want to hook up with you a few times and be done with it. I know some people like that kind of thing and i’m sure as the avatar it is the perfect option but I’m not like that. Casual one night stands just aren’t my thing so I’m sorry I have to decline. Please don’t ask me again” and you rushed away. Korra called after you but you clearly wanted to be left alone so she didn’t follow you. She hung her head in her hands at how messed up things had gotten.

When Korra had allowed herself to wallow for a bit she came back inside to find the party over. She made her way to her shared room and found Asami waiting. “Korra where have you been we were all worried sick and...” Asami started when she caught sight of Korra’s expression and stopped abruptly.  “What’s wrong?” Asami asked and Korra sighed “you gave me terrible advice that’s what!”. Korra explained the situation more and Asami felt awful. Being more experienced with relationships Korra had come to Asami for advice on how to approach her feelings for you and it hadn’t worked well. Given Korra’s past approach of blurting out her love for people without a second thought, Asami advised Korra to try a different approach with you but she hadn’t meant it so literally. Instead of being serious or passionate Korra had been entirely flirty and forward with you. No substance just fun. So you’d wrongly gotten the idea all Korra wanted was a fun fling when she actually was madly infatuated with you and wanted far more long term things with you. Asami wasn’t sure what she could do but seeing Korra so distraught she knew she had to try and help her friend.

So Asami made her way to your room hoping you wouldn’t mind such a late-night visit. Asami knocked on your door and heard movement inside. There was a pause before she heard you call “who is it?” nervously. “It’s Asami” she called back “I need to speak to you”. The door opened slowly and Asami saw you looked upset. “Did Korra send you”? you asked quietly “because she didn’t do anything wrong I just need some space”. “No she didn’t send me but I am here because of her, I need to confess something”. Your eyes widened in confusion but you nodded and let Asami into your room. The minute you turned to face her Asami burst “It’s my fault! Korra came to me when she realised she liked you and asked me for advice. She was terrified of messing this up and doing what she did with Mako...with him she’d blurted out a lot of intense things right away and so I told her to do the opposite. I suggested she just toned down the seriousness and had fun with you. Flirt a little and try and gauge how you were feeling before she confessed her whole heart to you. But it seems she took my advice too much and now you don’t think her intentions are good at all which is not the case! Korra very much likes you for more than just your appearance and she has for a while”. You stared at Asami at an apparent loss for words “so Korra was...what acting?”. Asami shrugged “kind of, she was putting on this cocky flirty front when she’s actually a lot more emotional and sweet...she didn’t mean to come across so forward she was just following my advice which backfired horribly. I’m so sorry it upset you I promise that was not her intention at all. If you want to blame anyone blame me”. You assured Asami you weren’t upset with her and spent the next half hour understanding how the situation had gone so wrong. You were very excited by the end of it and couldn’t wait till morning to speak with Korra. Asami told you she was in their room and wouldn’t mind you disturbing her so late.

So you rushed to Korra’s shared room and knocked on the door lightly. Your stomach was bubbling with butterflies and you weren’t sure what you were going to say when you saw her. The door didn’t open so you knocked louder hoping Korra wasn’t asleep. Still there was no sound from inside so you frowned and decided she must be asleep. You didn’t want to wake her so started to retreat from the room when you heard a loud thud from inside. “Korra?” you called through the door “are you okay?”. You got no reply and were growing more and more concerned when you heard something smash inside followed by a grunt of pain. “Korra?” you yelled through the door and began bending the metal of the lock. The door swung open and you saw the room was an utter mess. Naga was unconscious on the floor and by the window...four people had a struggling Korra in their arms. She looked very weak and wasn’t putting up much of a fight so you figured she must’ve been drugged. “Korra!” you cried rushing into the room. You had no idea who these people were but you weren’t letting them take Korra. You launched into a flurry of attacks and managed to land a few hits on the earth and water bender. The air bender sent a gust which knocked you back but you were quick on your feet and pursued them leaping out of the window. You yelled as you chased them quickly attracting the attention of the guards who sounded the alarm. Suyin appeared as did her guard Kuvira and they helped cut the quartet off. “You have nowhere left to go, let her go” you glared and the leader just smiled “never”. You looked at Korra lying limp at their feet and felt rage take you. “Then i’ll drag her from you myself” and ran at him.

3 hours later

You were sat in the infirmary beside an unconscious Korra waiting for the effect of the drug to wear off. Everyone else had gradually retreated to bed but you couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline from the fight was still pulsing through your veins and was only overshadowed by your worry for Korra. You’d won the fight with the help of Suyin, her guards and Korra’s friends but still the drug they’d used hadn’t worn off. Your eyes fell to her for what felt like the hundredth time and you sighed “please wake up”. Finally Korra listened. With a loud gasp Korra jolted awake and you scrambled to your feet. “Korra breath! You’re okay, you’re safe just breathe!” you commanded and Korra slowly began to calm down. “Y/n? What happened?”. “The White Lotus, I didn’t realise it was them at first but i’ve been briefed on them. They tried to kidnap you when you were a kid and they tried again tonight”. You saw Korra shiver at that and frowned. “But never mind them” you sighed wrapping an extra blanket around her shoulders “how are you feeling?”. Korra frowned “okay...a bit groggy like i’ve come out of a really heavy sleep but it’s not too bad. It’s getting better. How are you?” she asked and you froze “me?”. “Yeah” Korra said offering you a small smile “you don’t look like you’ve slept a wink”. You chuckled softly “I haven’t. I wanted to see you wake up first and make sure you were okay. I haven’t been able to rest since it happened...I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them with you I was so angry but you’re okay now and that’s all that matters". Korra smiled at you "yeah I'm okay now...thanks to you". It wasn’t the usual cocky smirks she sent you. Instead it was a sweet tired smile but it made your heart hammer in your chest just as much. "Do you remember much?" you asked and she shook her head. "No I remember something hitting Naga. I went to look at it when one hit me too. I backed away from the window as the world began to spin and then everything went blurry...the next thing I remember was seeing you in my doorway. You attacked whoever had me and I fell. I remember being unable to move and seeing you send rocks flying through the air. You were terrifying" she laughed "a woman possessed". "Of course I was they were going to take you! I know I might have sent mixed messages last night but I like you Korra. I was coming to tell you that. Asami explained to me what happened and why you behave as you do around me". Korra blushed at that "what were you coming to say to me?". "Well I was coming to ask if it was true, did you really put on a mask around me, acting all confident and promiscuous?". Korra nodded "yeah...I meant everything I said to you I wasn’t lying about my attraction but I was doing the opposite of what I'd usually do because my last relationship didn’t work out well. I came on too intense too quick so I tried to take a more fun carefree approach but that didn’t work. I'm sorry I offended you or made you think I was only interested in you for one thing. I do think you’re gorgeous but that's just one of many things I like about you and by no means the most important". Korra blushed looking down and you found her adorable. How had she hidden this side of her so well? "So is this, you know, the real you?" you asked double-checking. Korra nodded "yep, this is me. I'm emotional, reckless and I always say the wrong thing. I have no tact and just say what I'm thinking. Now you can probably see why I was trying to act so put together and impressive before. They're much more attractive qualities". "Maybe" you shrugged "but I think this side of you is just as attractive, more so actually because it's real and it's beautiful. You're wonderful Korra exactly as you are". Korra stared at you in shock and you just smiled at her. "I...I..." she babbled and you smirked "how about I kiss you to save you having to speak?". "Yes please" the avatar breathed and you gently placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her. The kiss was sweet and Korra seemed uncharacteristically shy. She pulled back blushing vividly and you smiled at her reaction "how was it?". "Good...amazing" she replied and you smiled "great". Korra looked up at you but blushed as soon as she met your eye and you smiled taking her hand softly "I like you Korra and that kiss was good for me too, if you’d like to make it a more frequent thing we could go out on a date sometime?". "I'd love that!" Korra agreed before wincing "too eager?". "No it was adorable like you" you smiled kissing her forehead "now it really is late. You should try and get some rest, something tells me the next few days are going to be very long and strenuous". Korra nodded "I agree, goodnight y/n". "Goodnight Korra" you smiled and closed her door softly. The avatar wasn’t a womaniser but a shy bashful passionate woman. You were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to see all the different layers of her left to discover.

____

Korra is 100% one of those people that’s all talk but is actually a huge softie romantically. Asami is one lucky lady (althought she’s also amazing so Korra is lucky too).

Also why is there so little Korra content out there? Her and Huan Beifong are very under-represented in the fanfiction game and I am personally offended by that 😂

[vicxy]

Pick A Pile Reading: Choose a Villainess 🥀🃏

Hello everyone, I decided to come up with this PAC for you guys to read as I go through all your asks. I’m really sorry for not being able to release it sooner, and thank you to those who are supportive. As you can probably guess from the title, the topic of this PAC is: What kind of villain would you be? I hope this will be to everyone’s liking, please leave some feedback so I can improve! This is meant to be a lighthearted (?) PAC for entertainment purposes, so don’t take it too seriously :) Please keep in mind this is a general reading so some might not resonate. I will also add a small part with things I think you need to hear.

“A hero will sacrifice you for the world, but the villain will sacrifice the world for you.”

Choose the pile(s) you are drawn to. Happy reading!

☾ Pile one: The Enchantress

I see a yellow gemstone for this pile, some of you might resonate with that? Maybe Opal? 7, 9 or 20 might be important numbers for you. Virgo, Pluto, Fire, Aquarius, and Moon energy here. Quite a lot of sword energy too. Capricorn, strong Jupiter, Libra, and Air dominants here too. I see that as villains, some of you could be quite scheming, not really in a bad way though. Wise beyond your years, you have a lot of foresight, and are probably the types to plan a coup or be the mastermind behind things. Maybe Junko from Danganronpa but with less of the crazy. The ones who are desperate for knowledge, but might have went about it in the wrong way. As a villain you might not show yourself much. I got “cartographer?” You might be sensitive to criticism, and hate it when you are questioned by your minions. The second type of villain I see from this pile is the sneaky type? Not the mastermind of the “main” villain, probably the one who betrayed the heroes’ side for the villains’. It might be because you didn’t feel included or like you were part of the heroes’ side. As a villain, you could be good at gathering information and using manipulation in order to achieve your goals. A spy, perhaps an assassin. Lowkey gives me Sasori (Naruto) vibes. The last type of villain I see here are the types who can get too hung up on things. Unable to let go, they let their past mistakes consume them and they turn evil, possibly to run away or to avoid something, possibly their past situations. Self conscious and unable to face their true self. In the past, the people in this pile could have had bad habits limiting their personal growth. Right now, some of you could be quite stressed. You should take a break and pamper yourself; impulsive as it may seem, it would be the best for you in the long run. The future is promising for this pile but roadblocks or conflicts right now need to be removed / resolved in order for you to advance. Good luck!

☾ Pile Two: Harley Quinn

Leo, strong Mars and Air, Pisces, Cancer, Libra, Moon, Mercury. The first type of villain I see here is the stubborn type. The ones who fight doggedly until the end even when they know they’re wrong.Quite impulsive, you could start fights easily and that could get you into trouble. Enemies are made easily. Some of you could be passive, or too defensive. On the other hand you could also be the type to give up easily, but mostly I see stubbornness. The second type of villain I see here is one of my favourites. If I could put it in one word, it would be smooth. Jesper from Shadow and Bone vibes. Intelligent, social, charming. Probably the type of villain to have their eyes everywhere, you know what is going on at all times. Also the type of villain to have a glib tongue, easily talking your way out of things / trouble. May be particularly interested in puzzles, mysteries, and mind games. Good at strategy. The third and last type of villain I see here is the type that can be perfectionists. Probably not villains by choice, these people are very avoidant. You probably dislike conflict, and try to avoid them, which can cause even more problems for you. Maybe the type to lie about something and lie more and more as to cover the lie. Eventually it snowballs. You could be idealistic as well, so you try to create a “perfect” world. Which is to say, your ideal one. In the past, a lot of you might have been unsure of where to go or what to do, but you could’ve been enlightened by something or someone recently and now know what to do. Trust yourself. Right now, I think that some of you could just have gone through something important or great in general. The efforts you’ve been putting in will pay off, so hang in there. In the future, some of you could be leaving from toxic relationships. You will also be more decisive, and in control of your life. 5, 6, 7 and 10 could be important numbers for some of you.

☾ Pile Three: Cruella

Lowkey weird but I saw the anemo symbol for this pile so maybe some of y'all play genshin impact? (pls if y'all do dm me I'm ar 55 with nothing to do) Strong Taurus and Mercury here, Cancer, Gemini, Leo, Virgo, Jupiter, Saturn. The first type of villain I see here is the one who was always known as the outsider. Down on their luck and probably weren't the types to get opportunities from others. There is something lacking in these people's lives, yet they don't know what it is. Reliant on others. These are the types of villains who victimize themselves and make you pity them, but stab you in the back right after with no sympathy whatsoever. The second type of villain I see here is somebody with very low self esteem. They might not have a sense of self direction and let themselves get used by other villains? Probably afraid of failure and disappointing others. On the other hand, this villain could also be opinionated and arrogant. Especially reckless, they are mostly bark with no bite. The type to give you threats but gets defeated in an instant 💀 They could also be the type to want recognition, maybe even obsessed with success. That will be their downfall. The last type of villain I see in this pile is the dramatic type of villain. The ones who make a mountain out of a molehill. Probably the ones who try to take things too far, or like putting on a big show with their abilities. They could also be the whiny type, the ones who get mad when they don't get what they want. Unresolved anger issues too. Lastly, they could be the villains who had gone through some kind of transformative experience in their life to make them this way. In the past, you could have felt very "stuck" and bored with your own life. You could also have lessened interactions in your social life due to responsibilities. Try letting loose sometimes. You could have also neglected some serious issues which you needed to face. For some of you who have been struggling or anything like that, rest assured that things will blow over soon. Hang in there, and remain grounded. For those of you who have put effort into something, I see that the rewards you get might not be up to your expectations. At least now you know what is worth you investing your time in; sit back and reevaluate your situation.

OKAY I'm finally done, it's almost 1am and I'm gonna catch some sleep. I really really hope this was alright, good day everyone! Please leave feedback so I can improve, I have a feeling this one is quite bad lmao. 💖 thank you for all the support thus far!

[pumpkachubby]

Crossroads: Trevor’s side

The opening ceremony of the Gym Challenge is finally here! In this chapter Sven’s group is back together, but things take a turn when an unexpected person shows up

(The Crossroads episode will be split in many parts from different character’s pov, since many people will be involved)

Make sure to check the Story Archive for past chapters!

One of the best parts of being able to merge into people’s shadow is that it requires no effort on my side to follow them, which would be a hassle in the current situation considering Sven and Wolter are running late to the opening ceremony.

After receiving the endorsement letter by Mr. Tsvetko the day before they ran to Motostoke’s Gym to present it in time, and while they knew they wouldn’t need to perform any kind of battle on the ceremony itself, Wolter and Sven decided to stay training until very late at night near the Budew Drop Inn, and I don’t really blame them, Sven in particular is a newbie in this and, as a former full pokemon himself, he finds it difficult to resist throwing himself to battle, he haven’t mentioned any of that to his friend but I can notice from down here.

“We made it!” - Celebrated Sven when he finally crossed the door, his friend followed a few seconds later, he was struggling to catch his breath from all the running.

“I told you *gasp* we still had some *gasp* time!” - Replied Wolter, dropping himself on his arms.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it” - said a familiar voice, as they turned around they finally reunited with Volke and Khyto, they didn’t know what exactly they were up to since they left the other day, but their new look was hint enough.

“Those uniforms…” - pointed Wolter - “are you going to participate in the Gym Challenge too? Wait, a moment, why are you wearing a pink one, Volke?”

“I did it when I was 12, and… it’s a long story.” - Said the toxtricity grabbing his clothes embarrassed.

“I asked him to help me catch a pokemon because I wanted to give it a try, since Mast- I mean, Sven is going to do it despite being in a similar situation than me, I decided to give it a chance too, also the old lady of yesterday said many people find their path during this challenge, so I guess it doesn’t hurt, right?” - Replied Khyto with a big smile, showing a pokeball in his hand.

“I see, then I guess we are going to be rivals!” - said Sven with a smile as big, but suddenly went back to curiosity - “Wait, what old lady?”

“How was her name? Opal, right? Turns out that our Volke was a member of her Gym and never properly resigned, she was really angry at him!”

“She was angry at you because you threw a poke ball to the Hatenna she was trying to catch! You should be glad she let you keep it!” - Replied Volke grabbing him by the shoulders.- “Whatever, the point is that she made me be your official guide on this challenge, since all of you are beginners on all of this.” 

“Hey, Sven and Khyto are a special case but I’m not a beginner! I have lived alongside pokemon all my life! Besides, how did you become a member of that Gym?”

“That’s a story for another day, for now the ceremony will start soon so go get your uniforms and change, we will meet later!”

The two agreed and after a quick talk with a staff member they were ready to change. Can’t say I don’t feel weird having to see Sven undress everytime, but I need to make sure to keep a check on him on all times, I’m sure I’m not the only one sent to spy on him… also, he is so damn hot, totally my type, I hope that sometime I can have an actual chat with him to apologize for infringing his privacy this way, because even if I close my eyes I can feel every change on the shadow casted by his body.

“Does it look good on me? I feel like the shorts are going to burst at any moment…” - He asked his friend, but Wolter was busy dealing with an unexpected situation.

“...I don’t even know how you dare to come here! I told you, you are not meant for this kind of challenge!” -Said a stranger in sunglasses, or at least it was for Sven, I knew exactly who this man was: Scott, Wolter’s ex-boyfriend. It’s not like I did some digging on who he was or something, it just happens that his parents are investors on Noah’s company and he has showed up a couple of times in the building for reasons I don’t know, but I do know that, according to Drew, their relationship ended in a hard note, there was violence. Scott was infamous for pushing people to get what he wanted, particularly shiny pokemon. - “Wait, don’t tell me you are doing this for your Wooloo? Then it will be better to just leave little Wung to me like I always told you, you really neve- uh? Gah-!”

I felt it, a shiver that almost made me run away from his shadow, it wasn’t just anger, it was something more animalistic, like the sight of kangaskhan mother who sees her child is hurt, that was what I felt in Sven’s shadow as he didn’t hesitate to grab Scott by the neck and lift him in the air. I never thought I would be able to see such expression on his face, pure uncontrolled hatred for a person, if I didn’t have the self control to stay calm and made the mistake of going out I’m sure I would be next… if it wasn’t for the unexpected voice that shouted at him who knows if Scott would have made it.

“SVEN!!” - Knoll’s voice suddenly came from the doorframe, when did he grow back to his normal size? That didn’t matter for now, all that matters was that he came at the best moment to stop Sven from doing something terrible, even if it was protecting his friend.

“Master? What are you doing here?” - He said, completely forgetting about the guy in his grasp and loudly dropping him on the floor.

An announcement was suddenly heard telling all trainers to go to the main arena because the ceremony was about to begin, taking everyone’s attention from the odd situation.

“Go, we can talk later, ok?” - Said Knoll, reaching for Sven’s hand. - “I will be cheering for you.”

“Y-Yes!” - He said, with a big smile, quickly grabbing Wolter by the arm and running alongside the other trainers in the room.

On the waiting line the rumor about what happened spread quickly, but not a single person looked scared of Sven, on the contrary, many acted supportive for him standing up against him. Apparently Scott spent all week pestering other trainers to trade their rare pokemon or looking down at others for having “average” teams, even the members of staff were having trouble keeping it cool, since he has been such a pain to deal with.

[darkmatter-nebula]

Get ready for a freshly baked chapter of my "Ghostboy in Hisui" AU. Here I go again.

Chapter 7: The Divine Message

Today was a special day for Bea and Emmet. It was the day of their meeting with Cynthia. To Emmet's surprise, a few more people tagged along. Raihan and Bede, to be specific. And, of course, Opal. The old lady loved Allister like a grandson. Raihan and Bede were like big brothers to the small ghostboy. Everyone was sitting in the plane now. Soon, they would meet Cynthia.

After half of a day, the plane finally landed in Sinnoh. Cynthia was waiting for her guests on the airport. She was already informed about the issue. She soon spotted a familiar face. "Over there, Emmet!" She called out. "Hello Cynthia. It's nice to see you again!" The silver haired man said and gave her a hug. The former Champ was a good friend of the Twins. "Are you alright, Emmet?" The blonde woman asked sympathetically. "Yes. But I feel incomplete without Ingo..." Emmet had a sad smile on his face.

"Opal! Long time no see!" Cynthia greeted the old woman. "You know her?" Bede asked the former fairy type Gym Leader. "Yes. I know her since she was a little girl." Opal smiled. Raihan spoke up now. "Can you really help us to bring Allister back?" "And Ingo!" Emmet chimed in." "I can not promise anything, but I will try my best." Cynthia said. "Allister and Ingo are not the only ones who are missing. My good friend Dawn, who is the Champion, disappeared as well. I will try to summon Arceus with my Celestial Flute."

"And where are you going to do it?" Bede asked. "On Mount Coronet. The Spear Pillar should be the perfect place!" The blonde woman answered. Together, the group traveled to Mount Coronet. As they reached the Spear Pillar, Cynthia took the Celestial Flute and played a very beautiful melody. Suddenly, a blindling light appeared and after a short moment, Arceus himself was standing right before everyone's eyes. Everyone, especially Raihan, was beyond speechless! The divine Pokemon spoke with a loud, yet gentle voice.

"I know why you summoned me! Do not fret, your loved ones will return to you safe and sound. As soon as their deed is done!" "What kind of deed?! You separated me from Allister! What do you want from my eight year old brother?" Bea asked the godly being without any fear in her voice. "Little One, I understand that you are not happy about the whole situation. But you can believe me when I say that it is your younger brother's destiny to save the world! He and Dawn will save Hisui and secure the future of Sinnoh and possibly, the whole world!" Arceus spoke.

"My little brother is going to be a hero? Actually, that doesn't sound bad!" Bea said proudly. "But if anything happens to Allister, I will come to your domain and kick your divine ass!" Bea threatend. To everyone's surprise, Arceus was not angry at her. Emmet spoke up now. "Excuse me, Arceus? What about my twin brother Ingo?" The godly Pokemon turned to the silver haired man. "Your brother will return to you as well! Do not worry." Arceus said softly. Bea spoke up again. "Arceus, can you bring Allister a message from me?" She asked.

In Hisui, Allister suddenly got a message on his arceus phone. Apparently the message was from Bea! It read 'Dear Allister I hope you are fine. I love you so much! And I miss you. I can't wait for your return, to give you the biggest hug I ever gave you. With love, your big sister, Bea!' Akari noticed that Allister was sobbing. "Are you ok?" She asked him. Allister showed her the message. She wrapped her arms around him for a sisterly hug.

Back in the present day, Bea hoped that her beloved brother got the message. She, Raihan, Bede and Opal were back in Galar. Emmet was back in Unova. He couldn't close the Battle Subway for too long. Bea was relieved that her brother was fine, but she missed him nonetheless! Raihan swore to hug the small ghostboy as soon as he was back!

To be continued

This chapter is finished, fellas! 😁

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

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

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

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Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.  

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting. 

Harry still hates clubs. 

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them. 

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now. 

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M. 

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry. 

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics. 

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement. 

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective. 

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love. 

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp. 

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall? 

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left. 

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.  

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them. 

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations. 

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke. 

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant. 

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought. 

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun. 

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend? 

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen. 

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis. 

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes. 

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air. 

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread. 

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone. 

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds. 

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation. 

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum. 

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since. 

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis. 

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox. 

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights. 

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter. 

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on. 

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday. 

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch. 

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills. 

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it. 

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy. 

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart. 

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back. 

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind. 

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points. 

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends. 

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed. 

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable. 

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.  

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you. 

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all. 

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes? 

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call. 

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget. 

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds. 

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently. 

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…? 

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater. 

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle. 

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand. 

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black. 

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”  

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.” 

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.” 

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.” 

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.” 

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.” 

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all. 

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break. 

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive. 

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”  

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.” 

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.” 

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.” 

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line. 

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving. 

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!” 

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.” 

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.” 

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.” 

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.” 

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams. 

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit. 

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence. 

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home. 

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on. 

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals. 

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger. 

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school. 

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed. 

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all. 

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy. 

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating. 

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly. 

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia. 

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him. 

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals. 

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this. 

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat. 

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point. 

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N. 

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge. 

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint. 

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met. 

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.  

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink. 

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly. 

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water. 

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle. 

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly. 

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it. 

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.  

Harry’s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.” 

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.” 

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.” 

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories. 

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck. 

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?” 

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.” 

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. 

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers. 

“How…?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.” 

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch. 

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter. 

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts. 

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage. 

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.” 

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.” 

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.” 

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle. 

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.” 

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way. 

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.  

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.” 

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.” 

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic. 

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once. 

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!” 

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”  

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement. 

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place. 

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.” 

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk. 

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes. 

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for. 

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.” 

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.” 

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs. 

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick? 

“It felt really nice.” 

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.” 

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later. 

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.” 

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man. 

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire. 

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it. 

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position. 

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm. 

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.” 

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.” 

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.” 

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue. 

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.” 

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.” 

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last. 

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives. 

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity. 

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.” 

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.” 

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs. 

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest. 

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak. 

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be. 

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days. 

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle? 

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke. 

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request. 

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear. 

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials. 

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.  

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time. 

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7. 

I’ll see you there, then. 

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist. 

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather. 

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits. 

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.” 

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal. 

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know. 

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet. 

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”  

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.” 

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around. 

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days. 

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever. 

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.” 

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can. 

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls. 

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.” 

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her. 

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour. 

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion. 

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans. 

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight. 

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.” 

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress. 

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.” 

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber. 

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot. 

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.” 

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?” 

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder. 

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings. 

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.  

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response. 

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn. 

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her. 

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck. 

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex. 

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.” 

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly. 

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?” 

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?” 

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”  

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.” 

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind. 

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.” 

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked. 

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts. 

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged. 

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then. 

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level. 

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that. 

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold. 

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him. 

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane. 

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home. 

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him. 

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device. 

I need interior design advice. 

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time. 

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh. 

Genuinely? 

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot. 

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it. 

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl. 

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall. 

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry? 

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide. 

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback. 

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits. 

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall. 

Immature? 

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry. 

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs. 

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries. 

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up. 

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her. 

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours. 

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play. 

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex. 

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective. 

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures. 

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet. 

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.  

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.  

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue. 

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs. 

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect. 

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching. 

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh. 

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives. 

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark? 

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache. 

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief? 

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else. 

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her. 

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry. 

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants. 

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants. 

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly. 

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot. 

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally. 

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background. 

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination. 

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish. 

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes. 

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever. 

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going. 

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours. 

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it. 

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure. 

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core. 

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right. 

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth. 

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now. 

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen. 

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit. 

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders. 

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance. 

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person. 

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

[nanaminsonyfans]

✨Wing Beifong✨

Masterlist✨ Request Rules

Request; Hii could I anonymously (you dont have to tag me in the post) request a Wing Beifong Fluff? Maybe where the reader and Wing are a fresh couple and are practicing metal/earthbending together? ☺️ and the Korra Team and his family mention how cute they are?

A/N; I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings; fluff and slight cursing?

Being the younger sister of Mako and Bolin was rough as it is. Two overprotective brothers? Check. Being babied for being a girl AND the youngest? Double-check. Anything you can think of, stereotypes and all, that’s them. However, everything changed when you met Korra. Your brother’s never let you join the Fire Ferrets for their pro-bending things, so you were just a groupie. You also had Earthbending so even if they wanted you, you really couldn’t join anyways.

But you met Korra, and you were so happy to see a strong girl, and she’s the Avatar? Hell yes! You were on team Avatar, Mako always argued that you shouldn’t be allowed to go on their dangerous missions, but Bolin and Korra always disagreed, plus you had Asumi on your side now so it wasn’t a problem. Haha, you’re outmatched Mako >:)

Which leads you to where you are now. Zaofu of the Earthkingdom, looking for the new Airbender. Bolin and you were so excited, so many Earthbenders and Metalbenders! You never tried Metalbending, Bolin taught you everything you knew so if he didn’t know it, you didn’t either.

You were enjoying the tour that Suyin Beifong was giving you of her home. “And these are my youngest, Wei and Wing. They’re playing a game they invented, power disc is what they call it.” Suyin explained, causing you to walk over to the railing to water. They were twins but they could be easily told apart by their smiles. ‘Oh god, was I staring too much?’ You were snapped out of your trance when you heard a buzzer go off and the twin you were staring at on the ground.

“Good job Wei!” Suyin praised one of her sons, earning a small cheer from him. “Wing almost had me, but he was making goo-goo eyes at the girl.” Wei laughed as he pointed at you. Your entire face went flush with embarrassment as did Wing’s. “Shut up Wei!” He hissed and punched his brother’s shoulder, Mako was already grabbing your arm and dragging you off. Both of your brothers made threatening glare at Wing, Mako holding a ball of fire in his hands and Bolin just cracked his knuckles.

You huffed and tried to pull away from them as they dragged you away, well mostly Mako. He was the eldest and always tried to protect you both no matter what but, Bolin could take care of himself and why couldn’t you?

“Mako! Let me go!” You huffed and pushed him away with a grunt. Korra stopped and was at your side. “Yeah, Mako. She is allowed to have crushes.” She scolded. “Crush?! I do not!” You argued, turning bright red. At this point everyone had stopped, staring at you and making the embarrassment worse. “Ugh, we are here for the Airbender! Not to talk about my brothers destroying my love life!” You argued and started to storm off. “Y/n!” Bolin called for you but stopped. “Trust me, she just needs space.” Suyin stated in a motherly tone. The boys reluctantly nodded and carried on.

You had bumped back into the twins as you were exploring. You bumped into Wing and fell to the ground. “Oh spirits, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled nervously and helped you up. “Oh no it’s okay, honestly I should be sorry. I caused you to lose that game right?” You excused as you took his hand and stood up. “Oh well, it’s hard to resist looking at a pretty face.” Wing smiled, soon turning pink when he realized what he said, you did as well.

“Your Wing right? Where’s Wei?” “Oh, he went to brag to our dad about wining because I got distracted.” You giggled softly and then realized he didn’t even know your name! “M-My name is Y-Y/n.” You mumbled shyly and looked down at your feet. “Y/n is a lovely name.” Wing chuckled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you a Firebender? I assume since your Mako held some fire at me.” He laughed nervously.

You shook your head with a smile. “No, Bolin and I are Earthbenders. Mako is the only Firebender from my mom’s side of the family. My father is from the Earthkingdom, Ba Sing Se. That’s all I know, Mako and Bolin don’t tell me much about them. I was too young to remember.” You shrug as you start walking again, him following suit. “What do you mean?” “Oh! My parents were killed. I was really young at the time, only like three or two.” You shrug.

“I’m sorry.” Wing said softly, glancing at you now and then. “Don’t be!” You said with the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen. “Well, to change the subject, do you Metlbend?” “Oh no. Bolin taught me everything I know, and he can’t Metalbend so I can’t either. Watching you though, it was very enchanting! The movements were so graceful from you two. Bolin and I do street style, fighting dirty I guess you could say.” You shrugged and looked over at him, the stray hair curled on his forehead looked so cute. “I could teach you if you’d like.” Wing offered with a smile. “I’d like that!”

That morning was eventful. Since your clothes were a little bland and dirty, Opal lent you an outfit that she didn’t wear. It was the usual Earthkingdom garb but not a dress, since you weren’t really that ‘ladylike’ anyways. It was the usual loose-fitting pale green shirt and dark green pants. When you walked into the dining room for breakfast, you sat by Wing. Mako and Bolin were LIVID. 

Like, why are you sitting by the guy that was checking you out yesterday? Mako being his usual self was glaring. You noticed this, and Earthbended the ground to hit him in the shin. He let out a grunt and you just smirked happily. 

“Wei, Wing! Are you doing another power disc game today?” Suyin asked, earning the attention of everyone. “Um, actually...I’m gonna be teaching Y/n how to Metalbend.” Wing said with a smile. “That’s great! I’m going to be teaching Korra as well. You should join us, Bolin.” She smiled as your brother. “I can’t actually Metalbend. I’ve tried before and couldn’t- Ow Mako..” Bolin whined the last part but sighed. “I guess I’ll try..” He grumbled.

The teaching went really well! Both you and Korra seemed to be naturals. Bolin obviously didn’t want to be there but Mako requested that he go to keep an eye on you and Wing. Currently, Wing was showing you positions for bending. He was telling you jokes and you had little giggles as you moved with him. It was a fun time and Korra stopped to watch with Bolin and Suyin. 

“Doesn’t Y/n look happy?” Korra said with a soft chuckle. Suyin hummed in agreement, “I haven’t seen Wing this happy since he was a child.” The mother gushed, sighing softly. “I know, it’s cute.” Bolin admitted with a grumble. “I’m happy for her, but Mako is being his overprotective self over our babysis.” He sighed softly and looked down. 

You and Wing started to get closer the more time you spent in Zoafu. Then Korra was almost kidnapped. You were terrified when Wei, Wing, Suyin, and Lin sat they were going to attack from the top. What if they got to the Beifong’s, your heart would be broken. You hadn’t confessed your feelings, neither did Wing but it was pretty obvious that you and Wing liked each other more than friends as you lead on.

“Are we in the clear?” Wing’s voice rang through the radio. “No, not clear.” Mako said but they went anyways. You were crying at this point, scared that they would be killed and so would Korra. Your mind was going a hundred miles a minute until you say that they were safe. You practically jumped into Wing’s arms when you saw him. “Thank the spirits you’re okay. I was so worried!” You cry as he hugs you back tightly. “I was worried about you. Still being down here. I was safer up there, plus you know I’m strong.” Wing whispered against your hair and squeezed you tightly.

“Shut up…” You sniffled and got on your tippy-toes to kiss the Beifong boy. You felt his smile through the kiss, which caused you to giggle. He spun you both around happily as you kissed. When you both pulled away you realized all eyes were on you. Mako was giving Wing his best death glare. “Mako…” Bolin started but Mako just shook his head and put his hand on Wing’s shoulder. “Just take care of her.” He mumbled with a small smile before walking away. 

Bolin was freaking out but in a happy way. “OHMYGOSH you guys are soooo cute!” He gushes with Opal and Suyin. Suyin gives an approving smile as Wing wraps his arm around your waist. Everyone seemed to think you were the cutest couple ever. You were also a very badass one but we’ll get into that later

[wellthebardsdead]

I have a lot of ideas boggling around in my head for stories involving original characters that I just haven’t bothered writing because nobody really cares about oc content unless it’s character x reader in which they can insert their oc.

But I’m just gonna dump this idea here to get it out of my head, its a bit witcher inspired in the sense that magical creatures are know but theyre at odds with the world of man due to the belief they cause blight and dismay, and it’s based in real world folklore and events too. My working title for it is Tumeric & the Weaver Hound and it’s a romance between a knight and a blind half elf named hound.

Hound was the result of an affair between a silk Weavers wife and a starlight elf who’re more closely related to a djinn than the faerie like elves.

His mother wasn’t a bad person, at least not at first, but she wasn’t a good one either. She married for money but it soon became apparent her husband was more focused on his trade and earning coin than he was with serving her every beck and call, and his frugal nature certainly didn’t sit right with her want for luxuries. And it was safe to say their marital bed saw little action beyond the frequent tossing and turning she’d do in an attempt to sleep through his snoring.

She’d soon start lamenting and complaining rather loudly to her friends in the market place about how miserable she was, how she was longing for a better man to just come and take her away even for a night to show her what she was missing out on, all the while blissfully unaware of an elf disguised as a man, all too eager to grant her her wish.

A wish that soon after leaves her pregnant. She tries to hide it at first, but soon lies to her husband that it was the result of one of their few nights of short lived relief. A lie she manages to keep up until hound is born that is. Pale, opal like ethereal skin, silver hair, pointy ears. Very much not human.

Her husband is obviously furious, but rather than admit wrong doing she doubles down saying that hound isn’t hers and is instead a changeling child, the arguing continues and with the threat of being divorced and left to fend for herself she grabs hound and holds him close to the fireplace to ‘scare’ the changelings true form out of him. (yes this is sadly a very real thing people used to do) And hound being only a baby is so fragile he’s left burned and blind.

A scuffle ensues, hounds father manages to get him free from her grasp without further hurting him and throws her out to the street calling the town guards on her while he’s at it.

He takes pity on the baby and decides to raise him as his own figuring he’d be of some use to him when he’s older, but being a magical creature he’d have to take care to keep him somewhat hidden. He names him hound because while he can’t see he developed a knack for sniffing out his bottle whenever it’d come close to feeding time, a skill that’d do him good in the future too.

As he got older his father tried teaching him how read and write to no success hoping he’d at least be able to do the books for his silk business. But he soon found his nimble fingers were very good for spinning thread, and he could tell which colours were which by the smells of the dye used for each silk. It wasn’t long before his father got the idea to try teaching him how to weave on a loom, he was skeptical at first but with his nose to guide where each thread was and maybe a bit of hidden magic, he soon learned how to make intricately designed cloths his father would sell as is or tailor to a customers wants.

Their two main customer bases of course being Nobles, and most importantly for our story, Knights. One of which has a tunic of whites, golds and yellows.

I haven’t got a name for him yet but I do know he’s the champion and personal bodyguard to the king, undefeated in the joust and contest between other knights of his court, and often the one sent out to do his bidding, usually collecting ‘taxes’ from problematic merchants or houses, but most importantly, investing possible sightings of magic folk when illness, plague, or blight rears its head.

Long story short, he ends up going to the silk weavers home on rumours that a magical creature hiding there had laid illness on the city, but upon searching the place despite his protests he finds hound hidden away in a small room weaving.

Hound immediately smells the tumeric used to colour the silk his clothes are comprised of and thinks he’s here to get fitted for his order like he’s done so many times before so not knowing he’s literally standing right in front of him he fumbles around looking for the fabric he made only to fall right into the knights arms and then fly into a panic and end up hurting himself because he had no clue there was another person in the room.

Anyway, might not make anything from this. Literally just an idea that won’t shut up in my brain that I thought y’all might like, honestly the idea came up because I harvested and processed my turmeric on Friday and my hands are still yellow ~Bambi