#i see plain ol human beings EVERY DAY

[robotsandramblings]

i fucking LOVE y'all's star wars oc's, esp the amazing and beautiful nonhumans,, so when i watch new star wars shows and the main & background characters are like 98% humans it's kinda frustrating like??? there are SO MANY wonderful sw alien designs out there and SO MUCH room for creativity but oooohhhh nnnooooooo another plain ol human being coming RIGHT UP 😒🥱

[yanban-san]

Alright but they way that my tiny touch-starved being is, I can imagine how comfy hugs are from each set of twins-

Plain ol’ twins; just barely hiding in their coats as they hug you from the front-

Droids; might be a lil cold from the metal but I bet they got some heat core tomfoolery to warm the both of us up-

Eldritch; I’ve always wanted to know what hugs from shadows and feathers both feel like, just being lost in their innumerable wings, claws, scales and whatnot- every hug could be different depending on the day!

Driders; fluffy back and legs + the little clicks and buzzes they make when they’re happy, sign me up-

Hydreigons; wrapped up in their six wings to the point where you can’t tell human from hybrid-

I want ALL OF THEM to help my attention-starved existence. Thank you for listening to my Ted talk.

-lemon tea anon 🍋 🍵

Honest to god that's how I feel 🥲 Lemme just have hugs from my boys, pretty please-

I always thought the image of the twins having a small darling would be really cute- Like Emmet is hugging you and then he just wraps his long coat around you and you're squirming trying to escape while he's laughing- A Depot agent comes up to see what all the commotion is about and Emmet shushes them, telling them to be real quiet like- Before he asks the Depot Agent if they'd like... to purchase... a Darling- And swishing his coat open to reveal you glaring at him. Woe be unto the Depot Agent that actually tries to purchase you though. You're priceless to your sweethearts, after all. Ingo loves hugging you, or using you in the middle of the day as a pillow to squeeze while he rests his head. He'll wrap both of you in his coat- It makes a lovely impromptu blanket.

I decided to say the 'droids have quantum computers inside of them- But if you don't know, quantum computers... In their current states require temperatures as close to absolute zero as we can possibly get in order for them to work. So if they do have qubits running their brains, they are probably venting a lot of heat all the time- Especially because they have a generator inside of them as well. Hugging them is toasty, and during the Summer they are extra toasty. Of course they also run on pokemon-logic, so maybe they just have some NeverMeltIce jammed into those processors of theirs. I have also been playing around with some- Dare I say, body horror- that might get invoked with their physical interactions with their darling. But I digress; Their hugs are generally toasty, and they will grab you from afar to pull you in for one.

Eldritch boys just constantly hold you. The rare times you're alone, you can almost always feel their presence- Lurking in the shadows and out of sight- And sometimes you get pulled into darkness when you step into the shadows- Only to find yourself in Gear Station, being held by Ingo. "I missed you," He explains, tendrils and shadows coiling around you. His body dripping with the inky void that makes up his true form. Emmet grows jealous, and takes you away the moment he can. Whining as he holds you against him, a thousand voices wondering why you didn't ask him to come cuddle you too? He wants your affections- He's far softer than his brother, and prettier too! And then they spend your sleeping hours curled around you, a bed of fluffy feathers and scales and ink and light, cradling you in their claws and arms- Their precious soulmate. Their darling soulmate.

Driders have a difficult time with the hugging thing- Humans are much shorter than them, and though they have their four arms and their pedipalps, it's difficult for them to hug you- But you can hug them easily, especially if you're riding on their back. It's a place of honor, really- To be allowed on their fluffy back side, cuddling them while being carried everywhere. Their only complaint is that they cannot look at you. Though that is easily fixed. They can hug you easily by placing you in a hammock of webbing, or trapping you under them... They can also carry you- Supporting you in one set of arms and hugging you close with the other pair, kissing you with their spider mouths.

The hydreigon boys have an easy time hugging you- You just have to avoid being nommed on by them. Being bitten is their love language. Bite them back. They'll bite you in their sleep, they'll bite you while they're awake- They'll trap you in a cage of their wings, enjoying the fright on your face- That looks to them like adoration. Together, the six wings become twelve, and they lock you against them- Snapping at each other if they think the other is causing you discomfort. They kiss you, nursing on your skin, refusing to let up- Nesting with you in a lovely bed they've prepared of furs and moss and bones and flowers, while your feet are wrapped up in their tails.

[meowmeowriley]

Hi costume anon here! I love goth Soap and tech Gaz so much!!!!!!!

Do I have ideas about the effects of repeated and long term exposure to ghostly energy?why yes, yes I do >:3c

Okay Ghost isn’t a full Ghost (ha!) which means he operates on a plain/wavelength (or what have you) closer to humans then a regular goulie would, close enough that a little bit of the extra energy the run off starts to affect the mortals around him… (you can use this for horror or comedy depending on how far you want to take it (I don’t think it would lead to death though))

At first there’s a bit of lethargy and a feeling of lingering cold slight numbness and or tingling on fingers and toes easily ignore or brushed off

Insomnia would hit after that and if they were early birds they’d slowly become night owls but again given what the guys have been through they don’t think much about it

It isn’t until they get sick and they start leaking a little ecto that things start dawning on them (queue the angst (Ghost sulks and tries to avoid them ( this does not work)))

After a while their colds (he he) settle down but if they remain paler then before and their canines are a little sharper, they can see a little better in the darkness and have a feeling of general otherness about them who’s to say?

Itty-bitty baby cores they can’t replenish on their own so when soap gets angry people get static shocks if they touch him and it’s a little easer for Gaz to hack tech when he can speak tech. I’d also wager they’d build a tolerance to Ghost abilities so the ghostly wail and cold glare wouldn’t effect them much maybe they could even sense him.

The speed with which the changes happen would be determined by length and rate of exposure

I hope this isn’t to much rambling my autistic arse would not stop thinking about this even when I had things to do today lol

I hope you have a great day!

RAAAAAAHHHHH YOU'VE SOLD ME ON IT

Nobody would notice them being tired or testy, because they're in the military, everyone's tired and testy. They have caffeine addictions, but so does every soldier. They bark orders at recruits, but come onnnn they're sergeants. It's literally their job to be tough on lower ranks.

Ghost would sulk thinking he's hurting his friends, meanwhile-

Gaz: "who needs wifi when you ARE the wifi?!" Happily tip-tapping away on a laptop that absolutely should not be getting signal where they are, and yet he's getting better signal and faster internet than anyone else does on fucking base. Suddenly he's got controll of all the electronics the enemies have. Drones self destruct, turrets open fire, every door simultaneously locks, trapping men. The enemy base is in chaos.

Soap: "AHAHAHAHAHA! Zippity zap, pippity pop! And yer transformers all go BOOM!!!" His eyes shine brightly and electricity crackles and dances through his mohawk. Distant explosions as the every transformer and junction box gets overloaded simultaneously. There's fire everywhere.

Through their constant proximity to Ghost, and constant use of their powers, it doesn't take long for them to both become powerhouses in their own right.

Tbh, I fucking love electricity powers for Soap. I know we all headcanon him as a pyro, a firy little demon man, but I really think electricity suits him. Ever seen an outlet shoot sparks? They're blue! Not all the time, but still. Blue's always been his color, to me at least. Ever seen a transformer exploded? Big ol' fireball. And he'd cause constant electrical fires if he could.

Anyhow! Fuck I love this AU 🥰 And you! You're brilliant!

[hologramcowboy]

I just need to vent for a second.

More and more I'm thankful for the blogs who are not afraid to call out something problematic that Jensen Ackles says or does. I'm not looking to pile on the guy. We're all human, but when someone says something that isn't right, as a society we tend to call it out for what it is: racism, sexism, homophobia, or just plain wrong. That church abuse joke, the Brendan Fraser Whale comment, the misogynistic and homophobic comments he's made in the past are all wrong.

Can someone grow and learn to be a better human? Sure. We all do that every single day as time passes. I like to think that Jensen has grown quite a bit in some areas and has learned. But those two recent "jokes" were not okay. One is incredibly fatphobic and fat-shaming while the other is literally disregarding the hundreds of victims who suffered sexual abuse in the Catholic church over decades. Do I think that he stood there both times and thought of the bigger picture? No. I think he just said what came to mind because they're both funny to him so they should be funny to his AA's. But I think what flabbergasts me is that they were! There are still AA's traversing this site and other social media that are defending them, particularly the church joke. Saying that if we call it out for the problematic statement that it was, if we don't immediately laugh, then we're not true fans of Jensen, we don't understand his humor, there's something wrong with us, we're just looking to hate on him, and all that crap. And it's like, no, there is something wrong with YOU if you find that funny and then would even defend that. Why is it that common sense continues to elude AA's when it comes to the topic of Jensen? Is he an attractive guy? Yes. Does he seem like the perfectly wrapped package for some? Sure. Are some of these same people obsessed with him? Yep. But that shouldn't completely eradicate common sense and empathy (I'm being kind here). Can you imagine having suffered sexual abuse or knowing someone who had and hearing that had you been in that room or watched the video? Can you (general you) imagine how you would feel?

I just don't get it. The thing is, I don't hate Jensen, I don't want to pick him apart just because, I used to have massive respect for him actually until the last few years, starting with that whole "bitch Alba" machismo crap of a podcast interview (proving some of that good ol' boy misogyny is still alive and well, but well hidden). And these last two instances have left me even more disappointed but sad to say, I'm not surprised. Shocked, yes, but not surprised. I don't wish him ill and I do still hope for the best for him, personally and professionally, but he's a celebrity, an actor, another human being on the planet subject to the same laws of physics and the universe as everyone else. He may have more money than some, fame, and however much of a following on social media, but underneath all that, he's just a man, another human like any other. Born to parents like other humans, grew up and went to school like other kids, started a career like other people after school ended, got married like other people do, had kids like other people do, and on and on and on. He literally gets up every day and puts on his pants the same way as many other people on the planet do every single day. He's not this messiah-like figure for crying out loud who is above everyone else. So why do they act like he is? Why can't they see the forest for the trees? You can be a fan of his and still have common sense and live on planet Earth.

His stanbase really needs a fucking reality check. Had Jared said that, he'd be in deep shit. Had Misha or Danneel said that (and I am no fan of theirs), they'd be in trouble. Had Henry Cavil or Tom Cruise made that joke? Forget it. Canceled. Hell, if Trump or Biden made that joke, oof. So why would his stanbase not hesitate to call out any of those people had they made that problematic joke but when Jensen does it, suddenly the calling out process starts and we are immediately gaslit and made to feel ashamed for calling it out? By these very same people?

I know the answer but I just had to get this off my chest and I figured you would have the most understanding seeing as you've dealt with his stanbase time and time again. Thank you for letting me vent.

Anon 🧡🧡🧡 You expressed something I feel too and you did it with so much clarity, in a grounded, balanced, beautiful way. Thank you!

It's truly creepy how distorted views become when AA's are driven by lust blindly.

I think the most heartbreaking thing in all of this is: that Jensen is buying his own hype and thinks he is above everything so he makes such jokes and feels entitled to approval. He is letting the overblown image they created be his self image and is, in many ways, just as blind as they are. This worries because it's very easy to lose balance and do stupid things when we become wrapped up in a false sense of self. I really wish Jensen had good rolemodel around him because I truly believe that if he did he would make an amazing leader. 😳

I deeply loved reading your thoughts on the way Jensen is perceived so thank you for sharing. 🧡

[latenightgasstationwalk]

I don’t need a rain sensor for my windshield wipers. As a human being, who drives a car everyday, I am my own rain sensor. I see the rain and I go “oh boy better turn the wipers on” I don’t need a stupid gadget on my windshield (that makes it way more expensive) to tell me when it’s raining. Nor do I need lane departure sensors. As a human being, who drives a car every day, I just stay inside my lane until I need to get out of it. Thats a big part of driving actually, staying inside the lines and not driving on the sidewalk, so I think I can figure it out without a $400 piece of circuitry. Back up cameras are cool, you can see what’s directly behind you at fender level, but most people could get by with good ol trusty side mirrors if they get comfortable understanding how much room they actually have behind them at a glance. I drive brand new cars every day for my job, I’m talking literally double digit miles on the odometer, and the changes they’re making to newer model cars are just stupid and annoying.

If you’re in the market for a new or used car, don’t let the fork tongued demon salesman talk you into any of that bullshit for the love of Christ, you’ll thank me later when your windshield replacement is $300 instead of $2000. If you have a windshield with these attachments, the windshield could be double or even triple the price of a plain Jane windshield. Not to mention you’ll have to get it recalibrated which depending on the make and model could run you anywhere from $150 to $700, possibly even more than that (Hondas recal for cheap from what I understand, while companies like Lexus and Mercedes obviously charge more) it’s just not worth it in my opinion. And I honestly worry for the future used car market because people like me who can barely afford to maintain their 90s sedan will straight up not be able to afford these things when these cars inevitably become the most common vehicles circulating in the used market. This isn’t even something you can do at home, dynamic and static recalibrations are super fucking annoying too do and from what I understand you have to pay an insane amount of money in the form of a yearly subscription just to get the software to do them. They’re making it impossible for home mechanics to work on their cars. They want our money so bad they’re going to make it impossible to circumvent paying them to maintain our transportation.

WE NEED TRAINS WE NEED BUSSES WE NEED PUBLIC TRANSIT FUNDING LIKE YESTERDAY

(My expertise is limited to glass knowledge I am a glass technician not a mechanic)

[writeshite]

This is my first time requesting sth and it feels weird, okay-

So, for about a week I had that one idea of a Morpheus/Love!Mmmale Reader, Like hes one of the Primordal Gods-> More important than Morpheus and [...]. ON the point. I wanted to ask for an angst to fluff. Like while Morphy is locked or, Reader, who is married to Morpheus, falls asleep and noone can wake him up, so people(and gods too ofc) slowly Loose their love(Love in as the feeling). AND WE ALL NEED LOVE. So when morpheus then wakes up again he goes back home, cant find his Husband he searches evrywhere, He has a lot of canonly flashbacks and stuff blablabla. After a while he visits the Readers Realm and sees that it's also destroyed blublublub he wakes them up and happy end. I just have I writerblock atm...

If u want to u can add smut but idrc '-' Also its just fine if u dint wanna write that. :D

With greetings

~Luce

It Is Better To Have Loved And Lost (Than Never To Have Loved At All)

Summary:

Among the thousands in existence, you chose him. Took his hands and demanded he ignore the ire of your kin, placed a ring on his finger, and declared yourselves wed. “I am Love; my union ascends all others; we need no blessing nor any witness,” Morpheus remembers laughing, head bumping yours as you swayed with him. “My Love….” he whispered to himself, head hanging; he heaved in a breath, glancing up at the harsh light above; surprising himself, Morpheus prayed. He muttered your name, you were a god, you would answer his prayers, but there was no such luck.

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Tags:

Primordial God Of Love Reader | Angst With A Happy Ending | Sleeping Beauty Elements | Reunions | Flashbacks |

Words: 3981

Author's Note:

Welcome, I adore the request, and as usual, went diving through the internet for some of that good ol' ✨research✨ I also spent way too long reading through Greek Myths, but that was just for my own amusement.

The bleak sandy plains of the dreamworld were one of the last things you saw; the domes and expanses you and Morpheus had once spent hours crafting had fallen, shifting to nothingness as the realm died in its primary ruler’s absence. All around the remains of the palace, dreams faded; the nightmares were not spared this fate, their forms dissipating. Lucienne had long since left, possibly in search of another primordial god, one who could perhaps drag you from your stupor and continue your duties. But how could you, your husband, the very being whose love you’d come to crave, was gone. 

The anguish of the waking world without Morpheus sent you diving into the dreaming world; very few gods ever chose to sleep; you’d only done so before to experience what humans did, and now you did so to dream. To dream of your husband. Of his voice. Of his eyes. Of his love. You slept to dream of what you’d been so unfairly robbed of. It had started simple; you’d lie on your side, eyes distant yet thoughts running, then you’d closed your eyes, relaxed your mind, and the thoughts became a nigh reality. His voice close yet far, the memory of his touch a shiver on your skin - the rush of euphoria had sent you falling from the bed. It had only been a few minutes, and your consciousness - the very being of love - had barely left the world unnoticed then, but now? Now you curled away at every chance. Hours became days, then weeks, and soon enough, you went six, maybe seven months sleeping, all the while the world around you withered, love thinning as your mind turned to slumber.

The higher beings were well aware. At first, they hadn't thought much of it, but now they quivered as they turned against each other, hatred seeping into their celestial domains, and what little devotees they had turned away, they came, begging, screaming, crying, but you turned away. They would hound you with pleas, and you would curl the pillow around your head, block them out and walk into the comfort of your dreams. When the Dreaming decayed further, you simply returned to your domain. The Dreaming decayed, but that did not deter you; your own domain - the Gardens - fared no better. The flowers and trees you’d once adored and tilled with Morpheus wilted around you, and a few of the nightmares and dreams followed you, seeking refuge, unknowingly trading one ill fate for another. Their fear, their frustration, your lament, it all soaked into the Gardens; the plants grew, thorns sprouting forth, fruit rotting, and leaves falling; they caged you away. And you rejoiced, welcoming the isolation.

You slid your arms into Morpheus’ coat - the only one you’d managed to grab before they’d all disintegrated - the sky was a starless blanket, and the once abundant wildlife had twisted into nightmarish creatures - cries reminisce of weeping. The blankets lulled you in, warmth loosening your limbs, your eyes drooped, Morpheus’ soft laugh sounded in your head, your arm stretched out along the bed, and you mumbled his name, eyes finally drifting shut. You opened your eyes to Morpheus, the world around you equal parts a dream and a memory - the Gardens as they once were, golden domes polished, outlandish creatures and fantastical plants greeted you. The echoes of the higher beings outside drifted away as Morpheus took your hand, the memory - many happy moments combined - the dream - Morpheus by your side.

“Elegant as always, my love,” his copy spoke, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your eyes softened at the nickname, love, nothing to many, but to between you and him, the greatest declaration, the assertion that your devotion was returned. 

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

The words strung through your ears, never going louder, as they brought your mind serenity, he held you close, and you did your best to return the touch. His form felt empty and unreal, but you did not dwell on it; too much introspection and the dream would fall apart. You drew apart, “Shall we head to the terrace?”

You nod, and the world moves; the terrace comes to you, a table laid set, synthetic food lay waiting, aromas you remembered surround you, and the phantom touch of the sun shone brightly as you dined. Books flew at your command, but their pages held no words, at least none you’d understand - gibberish passages replaced the hymns of Apollo - despite that, you read, remembering what it was meant to be.

Morpheus held out his fork, a piece of cake on end; it tasted of nothing and everything, flavors of cakes from eons gone past, merged with imagination and memory as they danced on your tongue. The tastes of the other foods followed the same pattern, but it mattered little to you. 

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

The echo returned, and you slumped back, thinking of the open foyer in the upper domes; you blinked, finding yourself there. Your head lay in your lover’s lap, his hands combing out the strands of your hair; you began to hum, nothing in particular but your voice carried through. The euphoria returned, imbedded with your love for Morpheus, partial but powerful, your mind drifted into a haze, and you welcomed it.

“Ridiculous,” Morpheus muttered, “Heinous. Betrayal. Blasphemy.”

“We’re going to socialize with others of our kind Morpheus,” you sigh, “not being led to the gallows.”

The endless groans, burying his head in your shoulder blades, he’s still comfortably dressed in his casual attire, whereas you don your signature fit. A pastel neck collar that grew softer as it stretched to your shoulders, parting to showcase your arms, it continued, descending down your body alongside the cape from the collar, slowly morphing into soft feathers at the bottom. Your golden arm braces were heavily detailed in motifs of your domain, and the cloth around your legs began by your belt, split on the sides up to your waist; your legs accompanied your chest, being on full display for all to see. 

“Could we just not stay here?” he asks, and you turn, hands on your hips, and you shake your head.

You open your eyes, smiling to yourself; Morpheus had grumbled about the gathering - fond of very few other cosmic beings - and you’d spent close to a half hour kissing the pout from his face, arriving at the party quite fashionably late. You sat up, finding yourself in the memory of that night, the vision of you and Morpheus, hand in hand, as you spoke to Nyx. Nyx, whose eyes turned to the real you, gaze pitying, “Love —” she called you again, but you shook your head, unwilling for the scene to fade away. She’s swept away, form replaced by memory, the dream is intact again, you enter and dance away the worry. The guilt. And the pain.

Time has no hold here, the only indication of its passing being the interruptions of your kin; Nyx finds her way back in multiple times, star-styled dress drifting behind her. You run, and she chases; you throw what your imagination conjures; sometimes, it’s enough; other times, you have to hide. Her hands always reach out for you, anger and desperation in her gaze.

“Love! Cease these games and awake!” her demand carries over the horizon; you hug your knees; you’re sandwiched among clouds today, watching the primordial night pull at her hair as she searches for you. “Love! Please, we need you, we need Love.”

You place your hand over your ears, lie on your side and bite your lip; her calls die down after the third hour, and you wait another hour before leaving your hiding place. Morpheus appears before you, the copy smiles easy, and you take his hand once more, happy to be free of any disruptions.

Morpheus’ cage allowed him little privilege, his physical form burned at being contained for so long, and he yearned for the Dreaming, his freedom, and you. You, who would lay sweet kisses along his face, tuck a strand of his hair back, and leave a rose in its place. 

“What use do I have for roses?” The flower was devoid of its usual thorns, the petals ruby and soft to the touch, he reached to remove it fully, but you stopped him. Pulling him to sit beside you, you hold his face, tenderly gazing at him, and Morpheus shudders, the adoration surrounding him. 

“They are gifts, testaments to my love,” you’d replied, thumb brushing his cheek, “you so rarely indulge yourself in material possessions; allow yourself this.”

Morpheus smiled to himself; the rose became a fixture in his room, placed in a vase by the bed. You adored leaving flowers in his clothing, little surprises for him to find, something to cheer him up if need be. He’d tried getting you something of equal value, but you’d stopped him, picked him from the ground, and held him in your arms, “I need no other gift than my dream.” His prison has no such luxuries.

“Do be careful, darling,” you’d said to him. 

Morpheus had grinned, “No nightmare could get the better of me, my love.”

“All the same, come back to me in one piece,” you told him, seeing him off with a kiss. 

The last kiss he’d gotten from you, he absent-mindedly reached up to his lips, fingers grazing them; your honeyed aftertaste was fading, as was the usual warmth he felt, the love, it clung uncomfortably around him, as if clinging desperately to this plane. He was thankful to be alone at this moment; what anger he used to mask his despair seemed to slip as he placed his head against the glass of his prison. He traced your name, looping the letters together; he repeated the motion, grounding himself as best he could.

“I love your eyes.”

You’d hold his face ever so lovingly; noses pressed close as you counted the stars you claimed to see. Morpheus would hold you close, head against yours, eyes barely open as you plowed into him.

“I love your voice.”

You liked to hear him speak; the baritone of his voice did wonders when he read to you; you’d work his body as you did the ground, kneading, delving, pulling until his voice grew hoarse and his body became lax.

“I love you.”

Among the thousands in existence, you chose him. Took his hands and demanded he ignore the ire of your kin, placed a ring on his finger, and declared yourselves wed. “I am Love; my union ascends all others; we need no blessing nor any witness,” Morpheus remembers laughing, head bumping yours as you swayed with him.

“My Love….” he whispered to himself, head hanging; he heaved in a breath, glancing up at the harsh light above; surprising himself, Morpheus prayed. He muttered your name, you were a god, you would answer his prayers, but there was no such luck. The love he was adept at sensing was fading, so he sleeps, his only refuge, that which they cannot take from him. He finds himself alone in the dream world; even there, he curls into himself, thinking of you but also of vengeance. 

A century passes, and then another few years before he escapes. Rage is all he feels at first, dissipating only when the younger Burgess is placed under eternal sleep, then its emptiness, uncertainty, and weariness. So long without his tools, he finds himself weak, so long without you, and he finds himself empty. Both leave him feeling uncertain. He returns to the Dreaming to find nothing - no home, no creations, no husband - he finds Lucienne, but she does not meet his gaze at times. When he asks after you, Lucienne grows uneasy, eyes darting and avoiding the question. She teeters on the verge of something, a secret on her tongue, but she says nothing. 

“How do you see through this?”

Morpheus quite liked his helm; having crafted it from the remains of a god, he’d felt proud when he persevered long enough to carve it. “Hang on, I think I’ve got the hang of it now,” you said excitedly. The helm looked out of place on you, but Morpheus paid no mind to that, more focused on the impersonation of him you were performing. You closed your hands behind your back, head high; you deepened your voice and walked forward, “I am the Sandman….” you moved your hands in an arc, fingers spread to emphasize the nickname.

“Are you done?” he asked.

You laughed, pushing the helm up, “Have I offended you, Mr. Sandman?”

“Evidently,” he replied, a small smile on his face; he followed willingly as you dragged him towards you, the helm removed and set aside.

“Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to earn my forgiveness then.”

Lucifer regarded him with mild indifference as he turned to leave; despite the general atmosphere of hell, there was something amiss. Morpheus couldn’t quite put his tongue on it, but the demons and the Lightbringer seemed off, perhaps less emotional than they should be. An odd hypothesis, but “What’s wrong with you?” he asks either way.

“As if you don’t know,” she responded, glaring as if waiting for him to say something. When Morpheus looked at her with confusion, she paused, eyes squinting before she laughed in disbelief, “Come now, Dream King, your games won’t do you any good, not when this affects us all.”

“I don’t understand —”

“Oh, you really don’t know, do you?” She grins wickedly, dismissing him with a wave of her hand; Morpheus leaves hell more confused than when he entered. Retrieving the Ruby leaves him exhausted, and Morpheus becomes acutely aware of a dull feeling, the rush of his powers again covers it, but when he focuses on it, he finds it, the hole in his being; it’s not until his hostile reunion with Desire that he understands what is amiss. Love, there was no love. This became ever more clear as he watched the humans; the park he’d fed birds at wasn’t crowded; the few people that were around seemed robotic; some still moved about as they should, but sometimes, they would stop, as a collective, expressions downcast as if in mourning. The children are perhaps the worst off, some of them cry, and their parents, the adults around them, almost don’t care, numb to their spawns.

“You know then?” Lucienne’s question drew his attention; she stood solemnly beside him, having appeared with another - Nyx, the Night - her usual starry appearance was as empty as a cloudy night sky. 

“I know as much as I knew when I regained my freedom,” he replies, “yet, I know little of my husband. Where is he?”

“In a prison of his own making,” Nyx spoke, voice equal parts exhausted and full of rage, “though I am remiss to consider it that anymore.”

“These cryptic answers give me nothing but headaches,” he grimaces.

Nyx fully turns to him, and Lucienne steps back, the primordial goddess is not one to be angered, but Morpheus has grown weary - every other person he’s come across knows, every single one making it clear it involves you - yet they refuse to explain. 

“It’s best if you see for yourself,” Nyx tells him.

Morpheus remembers the first time he stepped foot in the Gardens, an accident really, at a time when the cosmos was relatively young, you’d been in the midst of ‘borrowing’ a few animals from the early Earth. He remembers how sheepish you’d looked when he’d bumped into you, dinosaur egg terribly stashed away, “I’m preserving them,” you’d defended, clutching the eggs to your person, “besides, Gaia will have them dead in a few millennia, what harm would it do to keep a few?”

You always were handsome, even when thieving things from another’s domain. You’d been caught, of course; Gaia was the more observant of the primordials, but it had been fun, and he’d joined you on many more ‘preservation trips.’ The Gardens had been a sight to behold then; what could have been and what had been grew unhindered, kept beneath your domes and around the domain; they remained forever new, never wilting, nothing like the Gardens he saw now. The entrance was covered in tall thorny branches; wilted, unhealthy roses sprung from them, some reaching out to attack anything that got too close on either side - over that, he spotted movement, the animals you’d once adored had been replaced by monstrosities, their shrieking howls reverberating around him. 

“He’s been asleep all this time? Did none of you think to wake him or check on him?”

“You think we haven’t?! We can’t get past this; the only way I’ve been able to see him is in his dreams, a feat already difficult given your previous predicament,” Nyx seethes at him. “He refuses to wake.”

“No –he wouldn’t —I don’t believe you,” Morpheus turns his back on them.

Lucienne sighs, “Love’s been disappearing in the world; there’s no solution, none that we’ve found —wait!”

Morpheus had slowly been moving towards the branches and, at Lucienne’s call, had climbed over one; he shifted the size of his body, jumping, and ducking over the obstacles, all the while ignoring the warnings from his companions. He stumbled through to the other side; the creatures turned in his direction; Morpheus trekked past them slowly, always sure to keep them in his sight, growing antsy the further he made it into the Gardens. The first attack came from a flying beast, Morpheus had bumped into one of the columns, and the sound seemed to have been enough incentive to launch an attack on the endless. It dug its talons into his sleeve, making off with a good chunk of it when he swatted it away. The ones closer to land pounced at him, claws and teeth ready to make a meal of him.

They bite at his heels, and no amount of sand will put them to sleep. He looks around, mind racing to plan an escape; most of the stairs have decayed, and the only way into a majority of the structures seems to be climbing; he picks one of the lower domes - with broken windows, and a tree already crashed into it, he makes haste, ignoring the gathered animals below him as they reach up. He’s even happier when they don’t follow him, turning their backs, as Morpheus does the same. The interiors are just as altered, portraits covered in dust as vines crawl their way along their frames, and the plants are as twisted inside as they are outside. The carpets curl along their tears; Morpheus notes the silence, the occasional sound from outside coming through.

Your chambers were the only safe haven, unchanged as they were; the doors squealed as he entered. Your body lay beneath the covers, his coat around you, and the curtains drawn shut; the closer he got to you, the less dull he felt. The retreated love was here, amplified tenfold into whatever dream you were in. He shook your shoulder, calling your name, but you remained asleep, snuffling and rolling over, “Darling, please, you must awake,” he tried.

No response.

You smiled, mumbling his name, and snuggling further into the duvet. Dreams, you were trapped in your dreams; you needed to step out from the dreams. Morpheus positioned himself more comfortably, “Sorry for the intrusion,” he says before entering your dream.

He falls. Fast and without control, it takes him a moment to gain it, and when he does, he meets the ground far softer. The world around him is the Gardens as they were; he hears music and heads towards it, but the world doesn’t allow him, it redirects him away, and Morpheus has to assert his control. Vines shoot out to hold him back, but he persists, tripping over them onto a terrace to see you laid back with him, correction an imagined him - the details are near identical, but Morpheus, on account of the mob of beasts, is far more rugged in appearance. 

“Love?” He calls out, and you look at him, surprised to see him; the imagined him vanishes as you stand and back away.

“This is cold, by a lot of standards, this is very cold,” you mumble, “imitating my husband so you can drag me back into the waking world.”

“Imitat —no love, it’s me, I swear,” he reaches out, but you almost flinch, backing away further from him. 

“No, you’re not because he’s not here, he’s gone, and I can’t do a thing about it. So just turn around and leave me be.” He steps closer, and you step back, circling each other and getting nowhere; he reaches out at times but your retreat, using the dream space to keep him away. “You’re persistent; I’ll give you that.”

“I persist because —”

You hold out your hands in a shushing motion, “No, I don’t want to hear it; I’m sick of the fabricated nonsense you’ve all said.” You turn away from him, swinging one leg over the balcony, but Morpheus reaches out, dragging you back by your shirt - you topple into him, landing atop him; you twist around and pin his arms in the air, now thoroughly frustrated. “Why can’t you just fuck off?!”

“Because I want my husband awake,” he replies.

“Stop it! You are not my Morpheus. You’re just some cheap knockoff!” 

He winces when your grip becomes tight, the searing burn of your powers on his arms, “Please love, I swear it’s me,” he pleads, “Look at my eyes, really look at them.” Even with the power of imagination, nothing quite captured Morpheus’ eyes; you squinted your eyes and shook your head, expression morphing away from wrath.

“No, this has to be a trick; I can’t fall for this again; I don’t think I could bare it….” You say, grip becoming loose again. He sits up slowly, wrangling his arms free, your own moving to hold your heads, “....I can’t….please….don’t make me….” you sobbed.

Morpheus calmly moved your hands aside, now holding your face, “Love,” he calls your attention once more when you refuse to meet his gaze, “I assure you, as I live and breath, I am real.” 

“You can’t be; it’s —” you’re still crying, words cut out and muddled as the sobs wracked your body. 

“I am real,” he repeats. Morpheus recites the words as many times as it takes, always keeping your gazes locked; after once such repeat, your hand comes up to his face, thumb rubbing softly against his skin. Your eyes widen, “See,” he says, bringing your hand back and kissing it, “real.” It’s a rush when you collide with him, clinging to him desperately, “Now, will you wake up for me, my Love?”

You shake your head, “What if you’re not there? Even if this isn’t a trick, it could just be me,” you lamented, “me and my madness.”

“No love, I promise, if you open your eyes, I will be there,” he reassures you; you’re closer now; the silver of his eyes shines with determination; he leans closer, “and I won’t ever leave you again.” He closes the gap; at first, you’re in shock, but then you cling to him, hands fisted in his shirt, your eyes shut to the dream and open to the waking world. As he’d promised, Morpheus was there; you reach out hesitantly, and when he is as tangible as he were in the dream, you gasp, gathering him in your arms as he awakes. 

He holds you, placing kisses on your head as you weep happily; you draw back and kiss him. Morpheus feels the overwhelming rush of love; the hollowness is easily filled as he reciprocates, laughs shared between moments as you rejoice in your reunion.

End Note:

I rewrote this like three times before I was happy with it lmao 🤣 Stay Hydrated.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

AirLock Anon:

ok.

Space Mark x Dervish Slime y/n.

meeting mack.

Mack: WAAAAAA!

Y/n standing there innocently:

Mark: why is Mack in the tornado?

Y/n: he didn’t give me prickly pears.

Not to hijack this ask but I love this idea so I’m making it a fic <3

..............

"Why the hell are we back here again?"

"To restore the oases, duh!!"

"Really? Is that what we're doing here?" Mack scoffed as he turned to his fellow engineer lead, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me, Mark..what do you need for an oasis?"

"Uh, water-?"

"Right. Now tell me...DO YOU SEE ANY WATER HERE?!" He spread his arms far and wide, gesturing to the entirety of the Glass Desert, fuming red.

Yet Mark wasn't deterred from uncovering the mysteries of this place as he picked up his vacpack. "It’s not just any plain ol’ water. Legends say there’s fountains here with “magical” water that can revive the oases. We just gotta find them and give those buds some life.” He gestured to a nearby dried-up plant.

"..oh okay. Suuure. Let's get heat stroke while we're at it! Great!" Although clearly irritated at the idea of getting sand in his boots, Mack begrudgingly followed him. The teleporter broke so they had no choice but to stay for now.

As the pair wandered about, he noticed a few Slimes native to this region and their unique features: plants who can control vines, glass prisms with explosive sparkles, and purple ones with tornadolike bodies. Some of them appeared agitated, fighting over food.

‘Is it really that scarce here?’

Distracted, he failed to realized Mark stopped short and bumped into him. “Hey! The hell is your prob---huh?"

Looking over his shoulder, Mack blinked in shock at the presence of a Slime..human?

Sure enough, standing before them was a humanoid Slime with arms, a face, and a gooey smile. The lower half of their body was shaped like the rest of the Dervishes. As they moved around to examine the pair, the gelatinous ring spun around their hips.

“I thought the rumors of humans being here was too good to be true, but welcome!” You grinned, clapping your hands together. Though your cheeriness didn’t last as you felt your stomach rumbling, and you held it in annoyance, huffing. “Ugh..sorry about that. I’ve been hungry all day.”

The two men jumped as you conjured a dust tornado, sweeping it through a patch of sand. It only succeeded in tossing a poor painted hen in the air.

“It’s fine.” Mark smiled in reassurance. “Thanks for the welcome.” He then noticed a purple pear-shaped fruit hidden near a rock. But Mack beat him to the punch and picked it up, at first wincing as the thorns pricked his gloves.

“Huh, this is new.” He looked at you. “What’s this?”

“Oh! Prickle pears!” Your mouth was already watering as you gravitated towards him. “The Dervishes’ favorite! Fresh ones are rare to come by now ever since the oases dried out."

“..the oases are real?” His eyebrows furrowed. “I thought those were just a myth.”

“No, this place used to flourish with them. It looks so miserable now because nobody’s brought them back to life. Every rancher we’ve seen is scared of getting scorched by the storms..so they’ve stopped coming. But....” Again, your stomach rumbled, and you reached out to take the pear. “Sorry, I’m just so hungry!”

However he took a step back, causing you to frown as he tucked it under his arm. “Hey, what gives?”

“Where are these so-called “magic fountains”?”

“...Mack, are you serious?” Mark looked on in disbelief. “You’re really gonna starve them for information?! This is exactly what the captain told us not to do!”

The second engineer just rolled his eyes. “What they don’t know won’t kill them. So uh..Dervish, you better tell us where the--AH!!” 

Out of nowhere a larger tornado picked him up and tossed him ten feet away from the two of you, getting a face full of hot sand as he crash-landed.

The pear fell in front of Mark, and he picked it up and immediately gave it to you. “Here you go. Sorry about him.”

You just nodded, being too hungry to care about anything else right now as you munched on the fruit, biting through the leathery skin. It tasted so fresh and absolutely sweet on the inside--savoring the flavor. Within seconds it was gone, satisfying your appetite for the time being.

“Still tastes amazing!” After swallowing the last bite, you smiled the human. “I can lend you some more to grow if we get at least one oasis up and running again. I can show you where the reservoirs are. I’m [y/n], by the way.”

“Okay, [y/n]!” With a giddy grin, Mark hoisted his vacpack, though he heard yelling and looked over his shoulder to see Mack trying to get his yellow beret from a Tangle Slime’s vine, who was waving it in the air.

He glanced at you again, sighing. “He’ll catch up. Lead the way.”

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

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

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess. 

He wasn’t always like this, truly.  When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class.  He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty.  He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find.  He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home.  He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down.  He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life. 

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him.  All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route. 

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci. 

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does.  Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it. 

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit.  Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account. 

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends.  While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store.  And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry.  That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.  

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers. 

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips. 

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him.  Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego. 

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon.  I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material. 

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah.  I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye.  The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh. 

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman��s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket.  He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around.  Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all.  Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department. 

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye. 

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on?  You had, like, three fittings.  It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective.  And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner. 

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm.  He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.” 

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm?  I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.” 

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase. 

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department.  Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone.  When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds.  Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth. 

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall.  Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think.  He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag.  The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over.  It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit.  It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago.  Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago.  A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on.  If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight.  He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals.  It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by.  In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N.  When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her. 

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place.  He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes.  After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly.  Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store.  I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions.  Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket.  He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair.  Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit.  In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid.  You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it.  It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters.  It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary.  Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve.  With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really.  It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam?  Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man.  But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job.  “Gorgeous.  The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know.  The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb.  When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry.  As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye.  Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself.  When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies.  I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him.  Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to. 

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice.  It was an accident. You’re fine. 

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise.  Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again.  What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach.  But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer.  Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them?  Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind.  He could do that, yes.  He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that.  If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually.  And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does.  Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store.  It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat.  Plain and simple.  

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches.  Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N.  Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N.  And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else.  It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks.  He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him.  Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look.  We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe?  To match the cufflinks?  We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen.  The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame.  But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing. 

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client.  They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing?  Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So?  Another thousand?  I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises.  When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question.  How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you?  While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles?  Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think.  Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best.  Black, maybe.  To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner.  Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that.  Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour!  We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.” 

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.  

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left?  I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him.  When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble?  A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par.  But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts. 

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know?  Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright?  He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm.  As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations.  Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not.  It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways.  And honestly, she prefers it that way.  She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life.  Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way.  They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week.  Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door.  Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone.  Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands. 

“Uh— yeah.  Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name.  It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back.  Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.  

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.  

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken.  And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear.  When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is.  Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door.  The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.  

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb.  When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake.  Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong.  Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it.  It’s a mistake.  And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes.  It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so.  The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years.  The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form.  And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier.  After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry.  I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.” 

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N.  I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way.  That’s why I’m calling.  So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright?  Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between.  By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door.  She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat. 

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless.  The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace.  However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water.  Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress?  Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What?  Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on?  What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner.  I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on?  Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it.  It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress.  And purse.  And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry.  I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words.  It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption.  Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her.  A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach.  She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.  If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.  

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy.  Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad.  The money thing— that’s not an issue for me.  And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much.  But I was hoping…” 

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well.  The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand.  He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time.  His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve… 

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes.  It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise.  But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready.  Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket.  The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera.  Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema.  C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight.  We ran into a little problem.  Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il ​​favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to.  You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything.  For you, this is no problem.  Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much.  I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense.  I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes.  Thank you again.  Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest.  He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant.  But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes.  He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him.  There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place.  Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed.  After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices.  It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression.  It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room.  Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses.  While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in.  He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners.  In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces.  Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away.  The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls.  No first initial, no general idea— just nothing.  They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then.  The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe.  Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing.  But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different.  While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her.  This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame.  But what else was life like for her there?  She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent.  Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before.  If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past?  Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks?  What if he dug into her bedside table drawer?  Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind?  It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so.  Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to.  Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought.  Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed.  And besides, it’s just for a few hours.  She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair.  A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in.  He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.  

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers.  She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands.  In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway.  Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch.  But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing?  I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit.  Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out.  Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that.  It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then.  Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs.  But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll.  Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him.  She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem.  Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her.  She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work.  Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside.  They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door.  After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson.  I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it.  He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them. 

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then.  Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.  

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits.  He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck.  The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw.  Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat.  Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him.  All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds.  Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself.  He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier.  For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him.  He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.  

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story.  Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises.  With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin.  Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck.  He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new.  I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home.  They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they?  How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress.  When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing. 

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.” 

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions.  He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion. 

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees.  It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises.  She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely.  And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah.  It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels.  I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere.  I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion.  Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See?  Nice and secure, darling.  You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel.  The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto.  He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.  

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip.  Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance.  His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst.  He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste.  But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment. 

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm.  Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.” 

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet.  Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation.  She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter.  He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this.  When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull.  He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx.  I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh.  She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand.  He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady.  Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone.  He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.  

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet.  I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe.  Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below.  After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles.  Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open.  The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N.  The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground. 

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more.  Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles.  Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door. 

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you?  Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says.  Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face.  He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms.  He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again.  How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you.  It’s wonderful to see you, too.  Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment. 

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us.  Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything.  Friends help friends.  Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude.  Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica.  Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend.  Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his. 

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti.  Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you.  Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression.  And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry.  But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant.  Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly.  The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.  

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in.  He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes.  Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles.  Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles.  I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.  

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you.  And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink,  “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo.  It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important.  Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about.  It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t?  I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy.  It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome.  He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips.  It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni.  I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib.  Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question.  When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more. 

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England!  You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though.  I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state.  I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York.  It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands.  Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A.  And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.  

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry.  From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him.  However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion.  Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite.  It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really.  Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles.  I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca.  I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir. 

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian?  He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be. 

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana.  Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian.  My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then.  Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight.  The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu.  We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss?  Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please.  And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca.  Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks?  I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove?  I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location.  She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes.  How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment.  She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand. 

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something.  I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then.  No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list. 

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them.  While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca.  He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything. 

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course.  I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly.  Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed?  Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous.  I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm.  I know.  It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases?  Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright.  Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment.  No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.” 

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his. 

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah.  You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.” 

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement. 

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong!  You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine.  I forgive you.  Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency.  He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care.  It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table.  It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return. 

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down. 

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture. 

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily. 

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for.  Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t.  I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound.  The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you.  It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time.  I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca.  The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening.  We’re just talking, H.  He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh.  Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin. 

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away. 

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient.  At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish?  Pasta?  Red meat?  Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions.  Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’.  That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices.  The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head. 

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English.  Luca will get it.  And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point.  He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips.  She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning.  Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression.  A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right?  At that brunch.  Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence.  The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own.  When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you.  It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair.  So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout.  The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief.  He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right?  Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I��ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.” 

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other.  Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car.  And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.  

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath.  Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!” The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line. 

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam.  With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine.  The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake.  I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really.  Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall!  I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it?  Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest.  I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake.  That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe.  Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now.  It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak. 

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine.  With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face. 

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food.  He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself. 

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce.  It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it.  The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think.  I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same.  I like my steaks cooked rare.  The bloodier, the better.” 

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious!  Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table.  Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery. 

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away.  Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand. 

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue.  His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth.  With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good.  The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.  

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her.  True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth.  However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by.  Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry. 

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best.  I tip well, so I receive better service.  When I receive better service, I tip more.  It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.  I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system.  Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face.  Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards.  He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing.  He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well.  Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too.  I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first.  When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know?  And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even.  Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins.  He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore.  Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were.  We were working really well— incredibly well.  But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural.  Really natural.”

“It does.  And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have.  I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet.  It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’.  Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up.  It was a two way street, love.  Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough.  Moment over, dickhead.  Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really?  Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest.  He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice!  Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking?  So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No.  I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you.  I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out.  He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him.  Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act. 

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly. 

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table. 

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know.  Vincenzo is only a man.  Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight.  You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine. 

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze.  He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then.  Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—” 

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H.  Be careful.”

“Careful?  You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth.  He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center. 

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue. 

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx?  Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table. 

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” 

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it.  You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—” 

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything?  Can we get you more wine?  The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro?  Are you in the mood for dessert?  Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this?  Surely you want to try our dessert?  Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert?  It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine.  We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?” Okay, okay, just the check.  But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo.  Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction.  Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way.  Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world.  By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll.  ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion.  He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin. 

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance. 

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything.  And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright.  I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket.  When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then.  I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like.  Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet.  When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

[thecandywrites]

Plain Pain In My Ass

Ah, for Mermay of 2022, I wanted to go all out and get freaky with some good ol’ fashioned tentacle smut. So micro-octo-mermaid and merman it is! Featuring the very venomous blue ringed octopus and the traditional tentacle porn with a splash of pegging for good measure. Also some cum inflation, and knotting because why the fuck not. If you go here, imagine his cock is number 17. But instead of it being an egg layer- it’s just a normal cock that shoots sperm but that tip is perfect for getting past the top of the vaginal canal and into a uterus. But number 17 is the shape that spoke to me the most, which you’ll see I referenced in the story quite a bit. 

So top left corner- is our girl- and reader- Zhanna. Top right corner- Pilane aka Plain Pain In My Ass. And their initial meeting did not go as planned where thus, Pilane gets that nickname by our leading lady. 

Also crab right under Zhanna is Winnie’s face (Isn’t she ADORABLE?! I mean just look at her precious big blue eyes and wittle claws!) And her body is to the left of Zhanna. She’s a red faced, porcilin crab which are technically false crabs because they have a set of feather like fins that catch debris and then thier second set of arms are pinchers or claws.  

Enjoy!

Plain Pain in My Ass

Zhanna and Pilane. 

“Hello Gorgeous!” The boys hollered and whistled lowly as they were put into the mating tank with all the girls.

All the girls, including yourself- had already been put into this tank yesterday morning to become more comfortable in the space. And this tank was special. Because this was the micro-mermaid blue ring octopus variety. And while most tanks had lots of play areas- micro-mermaid octopus’ of all varieties liked to have a cave per female since octopus’ felt most comfortable in a cave. Usually. 

However after each one had selected a cave and had settled in, all of you had been fed a varitable feast of every prey item imaginable and ate until you were stuffed. All of you got a taste of everything. Even special foods like scallops, clams, fish, whelks, snails, more kinds of crabs than you had ever seen before, and of course a mackerel to sit around and feast on while you talked and befriended each other. And for dessert, each of you were given a whole strand bunch of delectable super sweet seagrapes. Which was a very sweet varity of umibudo as a special treat. Most of you had only had this last when you were getting microchipped. So to have it again was exciting. And then after a to digest all the food you ate- a party was thrown in the tank. Special speakers in the water pumped music to dance to into the water as even the humans outside of the tank danced with you and recorded all of you dancing together and talking and laughing and then special seagrapes were put in that had started to ferment, as the sugars in the seagrapes had turned to alcohol which gave you all a buzz and it was supposed to be the second best night of your lives and something of a bachelorette party because the next day, the boys were going to be put into the tank to mate up with you even though the boys were in another tank, having their own party. 

A blacklight bulb had been turned on over the tank which caused special stones and sand in the bottom of the tank to light up in beautiful colors and even yourselves. All of you had strobed your blue rings in the dark to the beat of the music and danced the night away while making friends to soothe over any hurt feelings and bruised egos that had been done that morning. 

Because yesterday morning- immediately upon being put into the mating tank- almost all of the girls had practically fought for the “best” caves in the tank that were in the middle island of the tank instead of out on the sides and in the corners. The largest and strongest females fought pretty fiercely with each other trying to get them. Because the bigger and better the cave, the bigger and better the male would be trying to get with the female who had it. 

But once each one had the cave she either wanted or settled for- she got pieces of soft coral and other items to decorate the caves and make each one her own and as comfortable as she wanted it. And usually immediately upon settling in a cave, she spun a curtain over the window and a blanket for her bed. And that usually indicated whether the cave was occupied or not. Most females knitted their names into the curtains themselves so that both the other females would know them and the boys would know the name of the female they were calling on. 

But right now- it was time for the boys to come in and try their luck. The bigger and better specimens competed to get their faces into the windows of the caves the girls were in the middle caves in the island of caves in the middle of the tank. 

You however- had not fought with the others yesterday because your mother had taught you and your sisters that there was a difference between what most considered “the best” caves that were in the middle island of the tank- and what really counted in this process- was getting the smartest caves. Not the biggest, not the “best”, not the most prominent. But the safest, most secure and fortified. Where you couldn’t just see potential mates only from a window where they would eagerly shove their face in. But caves that required more effort, and little tricks and actual brains and intellect to get into. You and your sisters had left the most prominent caves in the middle of the tank for those who wanted to fight over them. But you and your sisters- got- what was in reality the true best caves that were in the corners. Where you had two glass walls behind you and you could scope out potential mates as they swam around and could observe them before they would approach you. 

You had gotten- what was in your opinion. The greatest cave of all. Right in the middle- and right in the back corner. Your sisters in the caves above and below you. You could see your other sisters in the next corners in either direction- eagerly and a little anxiously- awaiting to be approached. Your brothers swam around to the corners first to check up on you to make sure to know where all their sisters were. Then your brothers tried their luck with the others in nearby caves with great success. 

You waited, and waited and waited as the other boys seemed to focus on the middle section of caves and then fan out from there. You watched as some of them outright refused to even try to talk to any girl who wasn’t in the main section of caves, despite some of their own sisters taking up the majority of them. Which made you frown and roll your eyes as you looked over and above you and shared a meaningful look of annoyance with your sisters who seemed to be thinking the same things. 

Which left two classes of males left- the ones with low self esteem or the cold and calculating who seemed to just appear to aimlessly swim around the tank and take it all in before deciding to choose a mate- almost at random. 

“Hi, hi, I’m Hyva.” You heard a nervous potential mate greet your sister above you as another approached your sister under you. 

“Hi, I’m Oran. You’re smart. You got the best and safest most secure cave in the tank. Bottom, in the corner- away from the fray and at the bottom where you’re protected on three sides with only a small but ideal window where you can observe everyone else. Very smart. So what’s your name?” He offered as he reached his hand into her cave and shook her hand. 

You looked out and saw that your other sisters were being approached as you realized- the more insecure males approached the top ones and the cold and calculating, but confident and direct were going after the bottom ones. You just hoped that whoever would approach you would be kind of in the middle.

Then you noticed a group of males gather just in front of your corner as they talked amongst themselves rather than approach a female as you noticed that there was a male who was actually very handsome and looked practically wild in coloring and pattern. He was a beautiful bright beige like perfectly clean pristine sand with the darker but brighter and more magnificent blues of his rings which he didn’t even have on! Oh when he would turn them on and pulse he would be so handsome and striking. Which got you to perk up and hoping that he would call on you.

And while he could see you looking at him hopefully, he gave you a small but polite smile as he turned his attention back to the other males. Which made you frown as you could see him pointing and gesturing to all the caves around the tank as you actually came halfway out of your cave's window to listen to what he was telling the others and see if you could at least beckon him over to you. He also had a foreign accent. Which meant he must have come from either an Aquarium or another breeder. There was a human woman checking up on him in particular and you could read the badge she was wearing. She was a Dr. of Marine Biology from the Sydney Aquarium from Sydney, Australia. And when she talked to the other humans, her accent matched his. So he had an Australian accent. Which meant his tank was in Australia. You must have not been the only one to be excited about him as other females, your sisters included started calling out to him- calling him “Aussie”. But he reacted to them the same way he had reacted to you- a polite smile but then turning his attention to the other males and talking with them. 

Was he homosexual? Was he not interested in a female mate? He must have been because he continued to talk to the other males rather than approach any female. It was disappointing and you quickly gave up on any fantasy of going on an adventure to the other side of the world with him and refocused on the other males. Hoping they would start to approach you. But the Aussie had practically half the males in his group! What was he greedy? Was he wanting to go through all of them and hand pick his favorite? Why was he holding up half of the males released into the tank?!

So you openned the door to your cave and pretended to fix your curtain in the window from the outside and inclined your ear and heard their conversation-

“See my mother told me that if we make the middle ones wait- they’ll be so desperate for a mate, they’ll accept the first one that approaches them because they’d rather be paired with anyone than left alone.” The Aussie insisted to the others as you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder and narrowed your eyes dangerously at him and those in his group. Then you went back into your cave, shut and locked the door and sat down on the soft coral that you had arranged into a seat and pushed it deeper into the cave so that you were mostly hidden as your brother swam by to check on you. 

“Hey Zhanna.” Allu greeted as he noticed his sisters above and below you were already halfway through the courting process with their prospective mates. 

“Hey Allu. Do me a favor- do see this group of males right there? I just heard the ring leader, the Aussie- tell everyone with him to wait to approach a female until everything settles down so that it makes those of us who haven’t paired up yet- desperate to take the first one that approaches us. Go over and ask why they’re not approaching the females. And if they confirm it, tell me and then make sure that none of them pairs with anyone in our brood. I don’t know who they think they are, or where the rest of them have come from, but I don’t want anyone from our brood to fall for it. At first I thought he was just a homosexual like our brother Killie. But it’s not that at all. Something is up because there are males whose sisters are in the middle who won’t even venture out here to the corners. I don’t know if it’s them wanting to make sure their sisters get paired before they do or if they too- are too good for us. And if it’s the latter- Make sure none of them get with anyone in our brood either. All of us can afford to wait for another breeding cycle for good and proper mates, not ones who think they can play us with their mind games or snub us because they think they’re too good for us.” You urged him. 

“Will do.” Allu nodded before he went and talked to the group that was between the main section of caves and the outer walls and corners. You watched as he talked with them. They beckoned him to join him but he excused himself as already having a mate but was just checking up on his sisters and wished them luck with their plan. Then he went to the other males who seemed to be hanging around their sisters and ask them why they weren’t trying to pair up. And once he got his answers he came back to you. 

“You’re right in both instances. That group wants to make unmated females wait and get desperate and the males in the middle both want to make sure that their sisters get matched before they find a match and also were hoping to match to a center cave female because they think those are the best females and want the best for themselves too.” Allu reported as you narrowed your eyes and scowled. 

“Then make sure none of them get with the rest of our sisters in our brood.” You urged him as he nodded and hurriedly went to your remaining sisters and warned them about it. And urged them to hurry up and get a mate before that group could make them desperate. Then he made sure to get his other brothers mated up too before he went back to his mate and helped her block the window before starting the next stage of courting-sexual compatibility. 

By nightfall you had not been approached once. And you could only glare at the pile of micro-octo-mermen in a sleep pile only a few jets of water away from your cave. Especially the Aussie who was sleeping the middle of them. This was all his fault. Shame on him for fucking up a perfectly orchestrated mating ritual. This method had been used by Ethel and others for countless generations with great success. And because his stupid Australian Ass was here and spreading that horrible fish shit of a mind game. Over half of the females in the tank were still unmatched and you could hear so many of the females around the tank cry themselves to sleep becasue of it. And instead of being sad, it just made you angrier. Oh you were going to expose that piece of a shit tomorrow and you were going to turn the tank on him for this. No one fucks with an Ethel Micro. No one. Not even ones from Australlia. 

You looked over to see that the brothers of the unmated girls in the center take refuge in their sister’s caves for the night as their sisters came to the largest cave to soothe and comfort each other as they all tried to squeeze into the largest caves to do so. Once it was clear everyone in the middle island of caves was asleep, you poked your head out of your cave to see your sisters that had also been in the middle caves in the corners were unmatched too. Then you took a chance and left your cave and quickly swam to your sisters caves to see how they were doing. 

“Why aren’t we matched yet? We got the smartest caves in the tank! We should have been matched this morning.” Your sister Mali sniffled and whimpered before you took their hands and led them back to your cave where all four of you could watch the sleep pile. 

“That’s why. That guy right there in the middle. The Aussie. He’s the ring leader of that group. He talked all the other males around him into holding off so that it would make us un-mated girls desperate to take any male that approaches. Take a good look at them and know thier faces. Tomorrow- when the lights are on- refuse them and don’t play their stupid mind game. All the males who stayed in the middle instead of at least trying to come out and meet us were either worried about their sisters or felt we weren't good enough. And those guys want to make us desperate- and the others that thought they’re too good for us. Ethel must have gotten these males from other breeders because they are not behaving like Ethel Micros. They can go back to whatever stupid breeder they came from. Steer clear of all of them. We don’t have to pair up right now. We can afford to wait for males who will appreciate our intellect and integrity and we won’t put up with his fish-shit.” You insisted. 

“Agreed.” They all agreed before they left and quickly swam back to their caves as the Aussie had cracked an eye open and overheard your conversation with your sisters and even watched to see what caves you and your sisters had come out of as he grinned before he fell back asleep. 

The next day you awoke to the sound of someone eating right outside your cave and the smells of a very juicy crab’s innards wafted into the cave. 

“Good’day Shiela.” The Aussie of the group offered as he was sitting outside of your cave with one of each of the food items offered for the tank- was in each of his tentacles. 

“First of all, my name isn’t Shiela, it’s Zhanna Visla Atwood. Second, is this your idea of trying to court? Eating the perspective offering instead of actually offering it?” You leveled against him in irritation as you pointed to your name on your curtain. All Ethel Micros had two last names, the last name chosen to differentiate them from others and Ethel’s last name to signify that they were an Ethel Micro. 

“No. In Australia, Shiela is what we call all the females that we don’t have the names for and I didn’t want to assume to call you your full name, just in case you had a nickname you preferred. Plus this is how I make a friend. You were up late last night. I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before a barrage of courters came flooding into your window.” He answered between bites. 

“But now that you're up, what would you like for breakfast?” He asked before he showed you the still wriggling prey in his tentacles that he was keeping restrained but not otherwise unharmed since octopus’ micros liked living prey to eat. 

“Absolutely nothing if it comes from you.” You tossed back defiantly. 

“Why? You don’t even know my name, let alone anything about me.” He pointed out. 

“Oh I know plenty. I know you came in yesterday. And judging by your accent, you’re from Australia and judging by the Australian Doctor that keeps checking up on you- you’re obviously from an aquarium in Australia. And judging based on your coloring and pattern, either one of your parents or grandparents must have been from the wild.” You leveled. 

“Well you got that right.” He nodded with a too charming grin. 

 “And I know that all of either your brothers or your friends, or possibly a mixture of both, decided to not go after any girl in particular yesterday, despite several showing an interest in you. Even girls in the best caves in the tank did but you politely refused all of them. At first I thought you must have been gay, which is fine, I have a few brothers who are gay themselves and are perfectly happy.” You continued. 

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong Zhanna, I’m not gay.” He countered. 

“I know you’re not. That’s why I said, “that’s what I thought at first”, I know better now.” You corrected, your anger and irritation coloring your tone as your blue rings got wider and started to pulse- betraying just how angry and upset you were as he saw that and frowned, wondering what you were so upset about. He thought you would have been happy and flattered that he was the first one to call on you. Especially when so many others had expressed an interest. He was singling you out. You shouldn’t be angry about that. 

“But instead I overheard you tell everyone in your little clique to avoid the girls all together to make them desperate. So that when they do finally decide to approach a female, she’ll readily accept him. That’s dangerous and extremely manipulative and it shifts the power from being balanced between the male and the female to much more on the males side. This is the mating tank where most of the ones in here will mate for life. And these precious first few days impact the rest of our lives and you and all those who agreed to your plan have just fucked yourselves over. I hope you and every single one who was stupid enough to listen to you- die alone. Now- if you’ll fuck off- I can get my own breakfast.” You insisted as you outright pushed him off the perch in front of your cave and swam and gathered up what you could before you returned to see him still nearby and watching you closely. But all the food items in his tentacles were gone. The stupid seapig must have eaten them already. Then you came back into your cave to see all the creatures he had previously in his tentacles were now bound by little strands of seasilk at the bottom of the cave. You looked at them and then back at him as he just grinned smugly and swam away to gather more.

You huffed out of your nose and decided to cut their ties free and set them loose out of the doorway of your cave. 

“Go- be free, try to hide before you get eaten by another.” You sweetly urged each one as you gently let them go out the mouth of the cave before you shut the door and ate what you had captured yourself. Then one of the little crabs decided to take refuge in your cave with you. It was a red faced porcilin crab. It was the cutest little crab you had ever seen! Then it seemed to look hopefully at the half eaten shrimp in your hand before you sighed and gave it the legs of the shrimp as the little crab happily let the legs it wasn’t eating, rest in it’s feather fanned like legs and took them and contentedly munched on them before it took up a space next to the window before you reached out to pet it and it seemed to lean into your touch. 

“Yeah, I always wanted a pet.” You giggled as you finished with the meat of the shrimp before you handed it the tail of the shrimp as it happily took that and ate it as you injected the small fish in your other tentacles with your venom as it wriggled for a moment before the venom paralized it for easy eating. Fish were hard to catch and it was the only offering from the Aussie, that you didn’t set free. 

Then you started eating that too- offering the fins to your new little pet to eat before you laid back on the soft coral that you had rearranged from a bed formation to a chair formation to wait and see who else would come. You inspected the seasilk that the offereings had been tied in. Micro-octopus-seasilk was extremely precious and this seasilk- despite coming from the Aussie- was actually very fine. It was thin but extremely tough, to the point you had to use your own venom spike to break it. And it seemed to shimmer and glow too almost like lure line. He must have learned how to make this from a wild ancestor because domesticated octo-micro mermaids simply pounced on thier prey. So you took the pieces and used your own seasilk gland to reconnect it all into one large rope before you coiled it up and simply hung it up nearby to use as you needed to. 

“So? Are you a boy or a girl?” You asked the crab before it showed you it’s bottom, showing that it was a female.

“Good girl. I’m going to call you…Winnie. Do you like that name?” You asked as the crab wiggled its eyes happily. Then it came over and laid on your lap and continued to eat the shrimp tail as you ate the fish before you offered it the skull and the intestines of the fish so you could eat the rest as it was happy to do so. You savored the eyeballs, heart and the liver of the fish since those were the fattiest and most prized pieces of it. Once you were both done, Winnie used her fine feather-like fan legs to clean off its mouth and your hands and even your face as you giggled when the fans tickled but you appreciated being cleaned nonetheless. 

“Thank you Winnie, such a good little crab you are.” You cooed to it as you pet it affectionately as it laid down in your lap with it’s legs out wide so that the point of it’s legs weren’t digging into your sensitive and soft flesh. Which you appreciated as you pet it affectionately. 

The Aussie was impressed by your attitude and spunk and defiance and your intellect and your compassion. He realized you preferred shrimp and fish to crab since you obviously just adopted a crab as a pet. He was actually undeterred and even more driven to think of something else he could do to impress you and court you. But before he could try again, others came by to try to offer food to you. 

“Hey, I think I recognize you from that group that slept in the sand pit over there. What’s the guy’s name who was in the middle? The one who corralled you all there? The Aussie from Australia?” You asked your next caller as you ate the head of the little shrimp he offered you first since the head was where all the fats and nutrients were before you offered the face and mouth of the shrimp to Winnie to eat as Winnie was happy to scarf down more food in the bottom of the cave so that it wouldn’t be seen and preyed on by others.  

“Oh that’s Pilane. He’s from the Sydney Aquarium, he flew all the way here with his caregiver just to be mated with an Ethel micro female. He’s guy who actually offered you all that stuff that you immediately set free and refused. Must not like the idea of travelling so far away from home and living an national aquarium huh?” He answered. 

“Pilane? More like Plain Pain in My Ass.” You muttered which got him to snicker a laugh. 

“Yeah. At first I thought he was a bit crazy but so far it’s worked.” He offered. 

“Has it?” You asked as you raised a curious and critical brow. 

“Well you took my offering and you’re talking to me instead of immediately dismissing me because of my weird pattern. So yeah.” He nodded as you realized all the guys who Pilane had gathered together were the oddballs and not so handsome ones who seemed to naturally be a little low in self esteem. You appreciated the fact that he tried to help them but you hated how he chose to do so. 

“Oh by Triton’s Throne and Aquaman Arthur’s Trident.” You groaned before you stuck your torso out and grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head to bring his head to you as you stared poisoned daggers into him. Your coloring changed to a very vibrant yellow while your blue rings pulsed dangerously. 

“First off- no it didn’t work because 1. I only took your offering to get that piece of fish-shit’s name. Second. You aren’t successfully courting me because I will happily die alone before I mate with someone who is stupid enough to listen to Plain Pain in My Ass’s stupid ideas. And 3. All you’re really doing- is forcing girls who have fought hard for good caves to second guess themselves and pushing them to be so desperate to find a mate. Now they’ll take anyone whether there is natural affection or not. And finding a mate should be about finding a mate who is not only compatible but one that you’re drawn to and have natural affection for. And that shifts the balance of power- from equally between the partners and puts it all on the male’s side. And that’s no match for any self respecting mermaid no matter the kind. So go ahead and try again with someone else because those nasty little mind games aren’t going to work on me. And shame on you for listening to them and forcing good and confident mermaids into becoming desperate. I don’t know who bred you or who raised you. But frankly such an attitude makes me sick. You and all those who listened to that Plain Pain in My Ass’s stupid logic deserve to die alone. And you’re a disgrace to Ethel’s legacy. She’s worked for countless generations to raise micros who are better than this mind game manipulation fish-shit. And frankly you and all those in your group don’t deserve to breathe the same water as an Ethel micro. So, go back to your stupid little friends and go back to whatever inbred sewage basement water tank you spawned from and leave me alone! Because I swear to Triton’s thone I would rather die than be mated to the likes of you!” You growled before you stuffed the half eaten shrimp in his mouth and slapped him and shoved him away, the way you had Pilane. 

Then Winnie came out and gathered the half eaten shrimp and pinched his hectocotylus tentacle, which was in effect his penis tentacle and another one with both pincers. He yipped, crumpled up in pain and floated down the floor of the tank as he held the pinched tentacles to his body. His color shifted to yellow and his rings of blue began to pulse because of the extreme pain he was in. 

“And anyone else who was stupid enough to think that Pilane’s ideas were good ideas can fuck right off! I hope you all die alone for listening to such nonsense and think it’s a good idea. All of you bring shame to Ethel and her legacy! And if she knew that this was what you were resorting to- she’d pull you out of this tank so fast and dump you back into wherever she got you from!” You hollered as loud as you could before everyone looked at Pilane since you were pointing at him. 

“Wait? What?! What did he say?” The others asked you as they came out of their caves to look at you. 

“I heard him yesterday telling all his little friends that if they waited and held off from approaching any female yesterday- so that today if any female grew so desperate for a mate- she’d pick the first one that approached her! Whether there was natural affection or not! He fucked up our entire mating ritual and tradition!” You hollered out as there was a collective gasp among everyone else as your brothers chimed in that they had heard him say that too. 

“You what?! Do you have any idea how hard my sisters had to fight for these caves? These were supposed to be the best caves in the tank! So that the best males in the batches would want them first. And half of them didn’t even match yesterday! And this morning they’re all freaking out thinking that something is wrong with them! When nothing was wrong with them at all! It was you being a piece of fish shit!” The brothers of the girls in the center caves all corralled around Pilane and those who had been in his group.

Suddenly, the blink of an eye- those who had been in Pilane’s group suddenly turned on him too. To see the whole tank turned on them just by association had them terrified that they were about to be either beaten to a pulp or killed off. The group suddenly denied having listened to Pilane and his stupid idea. And they all apologized profusely to the girls in the center caves and tried catching every prey item they could just as apology offerings. And while the girls accepted their apologies. They wouldn’t hear of any courting with them as Pilane's group tried to go around to the other girls in the other caves and instead of being welcomed- they were all turned away. Before they turned on Pilane for fucking them over. 

“I knew this was a bad idea! I never should have let you talk me into going along with this idea!” Pilane’s previous friends spat at him before they avoided him altogether so that Pilane went from being Mr. Popular to the most hated merman in the tank. You sat in your cave and simply smirked and pet Winnie affectionately at how he was all alone now before he tried looking for an unoccupied cave to hide in from the others. 

Serves him right. 

“Don’t even think about it.” You warned as he swam around your cave looking for another. 

“Are you happy now?” He asked. 

“That you got what you deserved for being a piece of fish shit for putting such foolishness into the minds of young and naive merpeople? Yes.” You grinned. 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t foolishness.” Pilane growled.

“Really? Because it looked like it just blew up in your face like a puffer fish.” You hummed with a smug smile on your face. 

“It wasn’t foolishness, it was brilliant!” He insisted. 

“Stupid mind games are never brilliant.” You argued. 

“It wasn’t stupid! It worked perfectly!” He bellowed. 

“No it didn’t! Half the tank is still unmated on day two of the mating cycle when at least 80-90% of us should have been mated already by the end of day 1! You have brothers still in defensive mode over their sisters- instead of trying to find a mate themselves. And all your friends are now your enemies. Is that how the plan was supposed to work?” You asked rather rhetorically as you gestured around the tank as all his previous friends gravelled to everyone else and were desperately trying to at least befriend others as they all swore off all association with Pilane and apologized profusely. 

“What the plan was supposed to do is differentiate the stupid from the clever and the weak from the truly strong!” He barked back. 

“That was already decided before you ever came into the tank! The strongest females all have the center caves and the smart ones have the corner caves and everything in the middle is already somewhere in the middle. All it would take is some sense to see that! Or do they not have any sense to give micros from the Sydney Aquarium?” You snapped snidely at him. 

“Not strong physically, strong mentally. Just because a female is strong enough to beat off others for a cave that appears ideal- isn't necessarily strong where it counts, and that’s mental fortitude. Strong females both in mental fortitude and cleverness see that the fight for the center caves is pointless. And is better than to fall for the “stupid mind game”. Because she would already be confident enough in herself and her self worth to fall for it.” He insisted as he came to your window held fast to the window pane and smacked Winnie in the face when she tried to approach and pinch his hands as the two of you stared each other down. 

“Pinch me and I’ll eat you.” He pointed at Winne before she shrunk back.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand or a tentacle on my Winnie or talk to her like that! She’s defending me from the biggest moron in the tank!” You yelled as you took Winnie into your arms and soothed her face where he hand smacked her to make sure he hadn’t really hurt her before you kissed where he had smacked her and then gently put her behind you before you met Pilane face to face. 

“Now go away! You Big Plain Pain In My Ass!” You ordered as you pointed away from you. 

“Oh  you want me to be a pain in your ass? I’ll be the biggest one ever!” He roared back angrily. 

“Oh big talk for a little micro from half way around the world, all alone in a big tank full of other micros who hate you! You wouldn’t know how to even befriend a female, let alone how to please her or appeal to her with anything other than your accent and wild coloring. You may look all big and bad but you’re just a stupid micro that should have stayed in the wild rather than corrupt good micros and fuck up an entire mating process! You have nothing to offer anyone! And you may be a pain in my ass but I’ll gladly take it if it means that you can’t be a pain in anyone else’s and pass on your stupid genetics to anyone else! Why’d you come all the way out here to the U.S? Needed to infect Ethel Micros’ with your stupidity? Was the Great Barrier Reef not big enough to contain it?” You taunted him. 

“Oh that’s rich coming from you. Especially when you just proved me right.” Pilane taunted right back as he smiled smugly. 

“Excuse me?!” You asked as you came out of that window and stared daggers at him as your rings were pulsing brighter than the lights in the tank as others were watching you with interest because it looked like you were about to kick his ass into the gravel. 

“You just proved that you’re the best female in the tank. You’re the most clever and the strongest both in body and more importantly mind.” Pilane said as he folded his arms over his chest and didn’t bother to puff up or pulse himself but just smiled wider as you just stood there and stared in angry confusion at him. 

“First of all, I’m not the only one who feels and thinks this way. Second of all. Don’t you ever put others down to raise others up, not even me. And third…” You began before you smiled back at him dangerously and just as smugly as your pulsing began to die down and stop. 

“Third?” He asked.

“You should really watch where you put your tentacles.” You almost purred to him before Winnie clamped her pinchers down on his penis tentacle and another as you immediately picked Winnie up as she let go and water-jetted her and yourself back to your cave and put a piece of coral in the window to keep him from coming after you or Winne.  

Pilane screamed in agonizing pain and crumpled up just like the first guy did. Others in the tank cheered and applauded you before chanting Winnie’s name and your name. Pilane just groaned and fell back, clutching his two pinched and bruised tentacles in his hands and against his chest before he just laid in the sea grass and glared up at everyone before the chanting stopped and everyone dissolved into giggles before going on with their lives. 

Then Pilane- out of spite, went around and collected pieces of the tank and made his own cave right on the face of the glass, using his own seasilk to secure and anchor it all in place which was unfortunately right outside your own cave. You realized he wasn’t going to come after you and pulled the piece of coral down and put it back as the headrest for your chair of soft bubble coral. 

Then you got approached by the other males that had slept with in their unmated sister’s caves. But everything they tried to say- Pilane seemed to loudly interrupt them and “translate” what their true intentions were. And what faults each one had. Which really embarrassed them and you grew more and more irritated with each intrusion. He reminded any and every male that you officially had food for a pet who you had “trained” to snip penis tentacles and ‘if they wanted their penis tentacles snipped off, to keep approaching you and talking to you’. He was fucking up your own mating ritual. 

“You should have snipped it clean off.” You grumbled to Winnie as no other male would then approach you. Mostly out of fear of Pilane ripping them apart verbally, or fear of Winnie actually doing what she had already done to two others- to them. Everyone else soon was matched up- leaving just you and Pilane still unmatched. 

“That bastard.” You grumped as you moved the coral around in your cave to make a bed again for the second night. You could see Pilane working on another contraption in his cave as you laid back and watched out of the little crevice that afforded you a clear line of sight from your cave to his. 

“What is he working on?” You whispered to Winnie as the two of you laid on the bed and you continued to pet her affectionately as you rolled over and laid on your stomach with your chin resting on your folded forearm under your head as you tilted your head one way and then another as you watched him work, wondering what he was working on. 

The lights were shut off but he managed to keep a few rings on one of his arms glowing to illuminate his cave so he could keep working. 

Your curiosity got the better of you. 

Before you knew it, you had left Winnie to sleep on your bed. You quietly got out of your cave and silently ventured over to his cave as you peeked in from above to see what he was working on. It looked like a weapon of some sort. With a strand of seasilk tied on both ends to the curved but springy cartilage like rib bones of a fish. He had pulled the string taut so that the bone curved even more but didn’t break. And once he was done, he was going through the straight but sharp teeth of another fish and the striaght dorsal spine bones of a fish as he attached the teeth to the bones. He seemed to separate his collection of teeth and he made a pile of specific ones that were not just straight but who’s attachment to the jaw had ended in a notched nub. Then he spun and weaved a special silk string to the end of each one attached to a straight dorsal spine bone. Before looping the the silk into a coil of varying lengths. 

His fingers were moving at almost dizzying speeds as he seemed to spin the silk around his fingers. Like using his own fingers to weave and knit a pattern you could barely make out because of how fast his fingers were moving. Then he hung each one up. But just as you were clinging to the outside of his makeshift cave- one of the fanned sea worms was tripped off by your presence, and in a rush- retreated. Which made you gasp softly in surprise and jet off to your cave again just as he paused when he heard the sounds and looked up before he stuck his head out of his cave just in time to see the tips of your tentacles retreat back into your cave which made him grin triumphantly again. 

The next morning you awoke to the sounds of Pilane using his weapon to strike down a fish as he notched the end of the dorsal spine bone into the string of his weapon. He pulled it and the string back, aiming the tooth and bone- at his target and letting go as the tooth tipped spine bone took off as if it was harpoon and stabbed his pray before he injected his venom into the string itself and like a jellyfish- the string suddenly grew spikes just like a jellyfish tentacle when it’s cnidocytes deployed their nematocysts like little harpoon shaped needles. You gasped in astonishment. That was brilliant! How had he made his seasilk to be like that? Ok, so he wasn’t completely dumb. That weapon was awesome. 

“How did you do that?” You asked him as he seemed to suck the venom out and spit it out into the water, making the spikes retreat into the line of seasilk as he pulled in his fish and the other fish nearby that had been struck by the spikes in the line. 

“I thought I had ‘nothing but stupid ideas’,?” He posed as his tentacles took up the fish that paralyzed by the toxin from the harpoon like spikes on the string before he got his true victim into his hands and pulled the tooth from the fish with a smug grin as you just stood there slack jawed and frowned at him. 

“Ugh, yes, your ideas about emotionally manipulating the others and playing mind games with the others is stupid. But this is brilliant. How did you make this weapon?” You clarified as you gestured to it. 

“It’s a simple bow and arrow. Isn’t it obvious? Or are you not that clever enough to understand it?” He asked as he wiggled the bow in one tentacle and the arrow in another as he spoke and sat down and started eating his well caught breakfast as you scuffed at his remarks. 

“Bow and arrow huh? You obviously used a flexible rib bone as your bow. It has enough bone in the center to be rigid yet enough cartilage to be flexible and not break. You pulled the seasilk strand on both ends to build tension on the string. And then for the arrows, you took a straight tooth with a notched end to attach to the straight dorsal spine bones of a fish and then attached a spiked cord out of seasilk to the end so that you could not only kill your target, but kill everything from you to it in one strike. Ance you applied the notched dorsal spine bone to the bow’s string you can aim the whole arrow at your target and kill them faster than you can approach it in person. I understand the bow and arrows and thier basic mechanics. What I don’t understand and want to know is how you made your seasilk to mimic a jellyfish’s cnidocytes when they deploy their nematocysts like spikes with just the injection of a bit of your own venom.” You clarified as you gestured to the string he had coiled up on his shoulder. 

“Wow, such big words for such a cute little dirty mouth.” He grinned.  

“Don’t be condescending.” You chastised him. 

“Here, if you’re so smart, you figure it out.” He urged you as he put the tooth and the spine and it’s cord- into your lap. As he continued to sit and eat, pulling more rib bones and dorsal spine bones out of his kills to make future bows and arrows with with as you felt the string and felt little finger length like sections before you actually pushed your finger into it and the pressure made another one push out. 

“You made a pressurized cord. It’s not just one single strand of seasilk. It’s several, all woven together to form a cord. And different sections have been very carefully spun in a spike pattern onto the cord itself. How long did it take you to make this?” You asked as you hooked your finger to pull the spike towards the surface of the cord as the pressure pulled the second one back into place. 

“The first time my parents showed me how to make one? It took me a few days, now? I can make one in just a couple of hours.” He answered proudly. Happy that he finally found something to impress you and bring you in to him. 

“So you grew up with parents who taught you how to make weapons and effectively hunt beyond your own physical limitations.” You gathered. 

“Yup because physical limitations are just that- limiting. But the mind, that’s the most lethal weapon anyone can have. Because the mind only knows the limits you set in it yourself. If you don’t put limits on your own intelligence, then it doesn’t have to have any limits at all.” He explained before other couples woke up and left their caves to hunt their breakfast in pairs. 

“Here, now you try.” He offered as he put a fish’s rib into your lap as you were still inspecting the cord. 

“...ok.” You hesitantly and reluctantly agreed as you put the cord down and got the rib and tested it to see where it was the most stiff vs. the most flexible. Before you found it’s true center point and point of balance and used your ink gland to mark a section that was in the middle and where you should attach the string to either end. 

“Don’t, he’s fine.” You urged Winnie who had started to carefully creep over to you and was pointing her pinchers towards Pilane. Before you used your other tentacles to pick her up and put her under your webbing that connected all your tentacled arms together and gave her your leftovers to eat while you worked on your own bow.  

Pilane just sat next to you and grinned widely to see you work so intently and impressed by your immediate aptitude. Although he wished you hadn’t torpedoed him already. Because despite everything, he was practically smitten. But he knew if he expressed any further interest, you’d shoot him down. Which was why he had to shoot down every other suitor you had. 

“What are you doing?” Your sister Mali asked. 

“I’m making a bow.” You answered. 

“Why?” She asked before you took the now finished bow and the provided arrow from Pilane and fired it at your target, the force and speed of the tooth hitting the shell of another crab clean through which caused everyone to gasp and freeze. 

“That’s why.” You answered as you reeled your catch back in before you split it it up and gave Pilane the other half and his little arrow back. 

“Triton help any tank either one of you gets put into.” Mali offered before she and her mate and the others swam away. Which got you to smile and duck your head bashfully in to keep yourself from laughing gleefully at the unintended praise. Then Pilane handed you the arrow and it’s line back to you. 

“Why are you giving this back to me?” You questioned him. 

“So you can use it as a prototype to make yourself some. Or even improve it. That’s just the basic design. You can reinvent it and improve it as you see fit.” He offered. 

“As a friend?” You questioned narrowing your eyes a little suspiciously at him. 

“As a friend.” He nodded as a way to placate you. 

“Thank you.” You immediately smiled before you took the base of it and realized it had a bit of a cap to it with a single opening meant for a poison barb to be injected into it. Then you carefully untied it and opened it up to see the amazing design of how it was weaved on the inside and how one tube connected each of the spikes in a spiral all together. 

“So did you weave this the way it looks or did you weave it inside out and then pull it right side in like a sleeve over an arm or a tentacle?” You asked as you looked it over. 

“Why don’t you try making one both ways and see which way works best for you?” He suggested. 

“Ok.” You nodded before you sat down next to him. You made a little harness for Winnie to wear around so that others would know she was your pet and not a food item. And then a leash to keep her close but let her have some freedom of movement, so she could at least filter feed the water around her and sift some sand while you worked. 

Pilane went and got you more supplies, the perfect teeth to make the arrow heads out of. and spine bones to make the arrow shafts out of. Mostly from the teeth of mackerel put in the tank that morning as he pulled both cheek pieces from the head and hunks neck of the belly meat since that was the fattest pieces too. Then he offered you one of the cheek meat pieces and half of th belly piece he took off to eat between working on the chord. And kept you distracted as pairs were taken out of the tank as you were too focused on making the cord to notice. 

“And I see you found a mate after all Pilane. Good job Mate!” Ashley smiled happily as she put the net in the tank for you and him to swim into. 

“Wait. What?!” You looked up and noticed that it was now almost deathly quiet in the tank as a quick look around and noticed you two were the only two left in the tank. 

“But…but…but…” You stuttered as you looked around in bewilderment before you looked at Pilane and scowled again. 

“You tricked me! You distracted me! You kept me from pairing up and mating with any other just to keep me to yourself? Even when we hated each other and are barely friends?! How could you?!” You demanded angrily as your coloring changed yet again to show how angry you were as you walked on the sand and shoved him in the chest to get him away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. You’re right. I did trick you and distract you. And I’m sorry. I’m not an Ethel micro and I shouldn’t have used the others to accomplish my mission.” Pilane began as he slowly raised his hands in a submissive posture. 

“Mission? What mission?!” You demanded. 

“So Ethel and my owner Dr. Ashley Miles here- have been working on the surrogate re-introduction program. And it was my job to find the right mate to help me. My father was an Ethel Micro and my mother was wild caught. And she was injured and my father nursed her back to health since she was protecting a clutch of eggs all alone. So she got sent to Dr. Ashley at the Sydney Aquarium and my father was chosen to be her mate because he was highly capable and the most patient. And so myself and my siblings have had the best of both worlds, both from the wild and from an Aquarium geared towards re-introduction. I needed a mate who was not just intelligent, but creative, protective and had a lot of fighting spirit while also tempering that with a willingness to help, adopt, and teach others which you demonstrated very well with Winnie.” He confessed as he gestured to her and kept himself and especially his tentacles out of her pincher’s reach. 

“And you were honestly my first and only choice. I purposefully singled you out and specifically all those in the corners out on purpose. I wanted to test to see whether or not you could withstand less than ideal circumstances and fight fire with fire so to speak. And your response was exactly what I was looking for. Because not every micro has had the luxury of being an Ethel Micro and not every micro will have the luxury of good owners. And frankly we need more individuals in the wild that will have your tenacity. ” Pilane added. 

“You Plain Pain in My Ass, why didn’t you lead with that yesterday?! Why didn’t you start off with that yesterday?! Why didn’t you use that as your excuse to explain what you were doing and why you were doing it? Or better yet do all of that on the first day?!” You asked. 

“Because I didn’t want you to be scared off by the potential assignment.” He answered sheepishly. 

“So you purposefully gave me something to focus on and distract me until you made yourself the only possible mate for me? Is this why you kept any other from trying to court me?” You asked, hurt and heart broken and betrayed as your big blue eyes welled with tears. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry Zhanna.” He admitted. 

“Oh by Triton’s beard, you idiot!” You cried as you finally stopped pulsing in anger and just sat on the seafloor and pulled your tentacles up around you and started crying. 

“Look, you don’t have to mate and pair bond with me if you really hate me. And if you do- I get that, I unintentionally hurt your family and threw off an entire mating process just to single you out. And I’m sorry I tricked you, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I should have been honest and upfront with you. I’m so sorry. Please, let me try to make it up to you. If you hate me, at least give my other brother brothers a chance.” He admitted as he came over and sat on the seafloor with you and tried to speak with you but you had your webbing up over your head like a skirt. 

“So you have brothers?” You asked him between sobs. 

“Twenty of them. But only 5 are unmated and the other 4 went to other places to get matched but if they had the same luck as I did, then you will have your pick between us.” He answered. 

“Zhanna, please, I’m really sorry.” Pilane apologized as you just turned away from him. 

“Zhanna, if you would prefer to wait for another mate here, you can do that too. You can stay in this tank for the week that it will take them to mature enough to be put in here and try again then. And you can use that week to stake a claim on any cave in here, and get the very best one in the middle if you want to. Now granted you’ll have a week on them but it’s an option too. You don’t have to come with us. But I need your decision becauase we need to leave for the airport soon.” Dr. Ashley offered. 

“Ok, fine, let me get my stuff, let me at least meet your brothers.” You caved in defeat.

“Come on Winnie, we’re going on a trip.” You beckoned her as you picked her up via her harness and swam back to your cave and got the previous length of rope and your blanket and your curtain that you used as a scarf.

Pilane got his other weapons from his own cave as he used sign to tell Ashley that it didn’t work with him and you but that you agreed to the program before you both to the net as you put Winnie between him and you and the net as Pilane sighed and hung his head in defeat as he was put into a special bag with you. Each of you taking opposite corners before you had to be vaccinated and tagged for the trip as you were given a few bunches of sweet seagrapes to eat for your journey while Pilane was only given one bunch as you were more heartbroken and resigned to your fate to even bother to feel the needles prick.

"Zhanna, if you truly do not like Pilane or any of his brothers or any of the other surrogates, welll try to find you a mate who you do like ok?" Ashley tried to assure you as you just stared at her but rolled over away from her as her hopeful smile faded as she looked at Pilane who looked just as downcast as you did. 

"Maybe it's the sixth's time that's the charm." Ashley tried to say encouraging to Pilane who nodded but continued to sulk as neither of you were eating as you used your curtain and your blanket to cover yourself up to keep yourself hidden. 

You laid down on the bottom of the bag and used Winnie as your pillow as you laid down and idly spun more of the chord, not really paying attention to how you were doing it, just staring out of the bag before the bag was filled with super rich oxygenated air and then tied off and put into a special carrier.

"So I take it I'm your fifth attempt to find a mate for the program? if she just told you that ‘the sixth time is the charm’." You finally murmured quietly.

"Yup." Pilane admitted. 

"What happened to the previous 4? Did you trick all of them too?” You asked. 

"No. The first time I matched with a girl and actually got to mate with her before she found out and she immediately ejaculated all of my sperm before she could use it and fled into the arms of the closest male." He admitted as you hummed in response as you refused to look at him and just kept idling spinning a chord, just to keep your hands busy as you started to feel more and more numb and stupid for being the fifth victim of this half wild plain pain in your ass. 

"And the second time, when it was announced who I was and what I was there for-I was immediately shunned and not even the most desperate female would even talk to me. Third time there was a willing mate but she was dumber than a sea cucumber. And she couldn’t even catch her own food, she had to have her siblings do it for her. Any child of hers would get eaten the first two seconds they would get released into the ocean. And the forth time, the perfect candidate was taken by another before I could get to her. So this time I purposefully tried to make sure that the most ideal candidates wouldn’t be taken by another before I could locate them and try again. I didn’t mean to throw the whole match process off for an entire generation but I was really hoping that because you were so interested in me the first day that you would give me a chance to explain myself and my situation before you shot me down. And then you kept shooting me down before I could tell you. If you’re mad at me for ruining your own matching process, I understand that. I was…I was just hoping for a different outcome this time.” He admitted as you took time to think that over. 

“Me too.” You whispered as you wiped a tear from your eye.

“So are we going to the Sydney Aquarium then?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Pilane answered. 

“Great, other side of the world. Then we have a long flight ahead of us. We should conserve our strength and energy and get some sleep while we can.” You urged him before you used what bit you had spun to make yourself a pillow before you rolled over and got comfortable and tried to take your own advice as he did the same. 

Within just an hour- you could feel the bag being carried as you got used to the sloshing of Ashley's steps as she walked before the bag was opened and you were lifted out and shown to airport security. Then Dr. Ashley put you back in and was still disappointed to see you and Pilane still on opposite ends of the bag and not really talking as you had already fallen asleep and had taken a nap and woke up briefly when the lights from the airport got shown into the bag. 

Then once you placed back in- the noise from the ruckus of the airport woke you back up as rolled to lay on your back and glared up into the loud darkness around you as you huffed. 

“The noise bothering you?” Pilane asked when he heard your irritated huff. 

“Yes. I’m…I’m not used to it. It’s humans in their environment. It’s so loud. I don’t understand how they aren’t all deaf.” You muttered in irritation. 

“Well then you’d hate the ocean. It’s always loud, all the time. But there’s a bit of rhythm to it at least. But you also learn to drown certain sounds out while being alert and always listening to others.” He appraised. 

“I take it your mom had a hard time adapting to the calm and quiet of a tank compared to the ocean.” You gathered. 

“She did. Instead of feeling safe, she was always on high alert at first because the only time it was ever that quiet on the reef was when there were predators out. But she couldn’t be released back into the wild because of her injuries, that and my father didn’t feel up to the task of living in the wild either. And it wasn’t until my father actually went with her to inspect every bit of that tank- that she knew she was safe. But then to realize that there was glass and that she couldn’t just flee to another part of the reef- then she felt trapped.” He admitted. 

“I know exactly how that feels.” You muttered which only made Pilane’s head drop farther down. Here he worked so hard to impress you and try to befriend you despite pissing you off and leaving the worst first impression and you still hated him. He felt so hopeless, and helpless too. Like he was never going to get this right. 

“I’m sorry.” Pilane apologized again. 

“Me too. I should have given you a chance to explain yourself so you didn’t feel you had to trick me and trap me against my will. It sucks being betrayed. And it sucks being paired up with a mate who you had no other choice from. Which is I’m sure how your mother felt when humans took her from the wild and being put with your father too. I take it she didn’t choose him, but he was chosen for her right?” You ventured.  

“He was.” Pilane admitted lowly as he could now see and understand how rather poetic the irony was. The very circumstances that made his mother so unhappy were the same circumstances he just unwittingly coerced onto you and it made him feel like a idiotic monster for doing it. You had every right to hate him. In fact, looking at it like that. He would think something was wrong if you didn’t hate him. 

“So it wasn’t a surprise when she got really depressed. And while she was a voracious eater in the beginning, her appetite eventually waned.  At first she ate every food item put into the enclosure-  because in the wild, you have to take advantage of every opportunity to eat because you never know when another will come around. But once she realized that no matter how much she ate or didn’t eat- food was always going to be provided. Then she felt cheated and defeated. Because what use was it to become a good hunter when the prospect of being fed all the time was always there? And while she appreciated having challenging prey and the thrill of the hunt. Having true hunger or the desperation of starving to death- or having your own brood starve to death if you weren’t successful- not be a motivator made the victory of a kill more hollow for her. Like preying on a crab just to find it’s only the molted shell of one.” He explained. 

“And by the time she was healed as much as she could be, to be denied of going back into the wild and not having a partner with the same hopes and goals. Threw her into an even deeper depression. And it didn’t matter what food my father brought to her, how big and how much like the wild the tank could try to immitate. She was never happy. Once she was healed though, Ashely tried to pair her with other specimans from the wild, but because of her injuries and deformities from them, no male from the wild wanted her either. And it took everything my father had to convince her not to kill herself. To just hold on long enough for the eggs to hatch so that she could at least teach them all the lessons she had learned from the wild so that even if she couldn’t go back, maybe they could and she could find a measure of happiness and contentment if they did. And Ashley swore that any and all of her offspring who wanted to go back, would be released into the wild. And that was the only thing that my mother lived for.” Pilane explained with a sniffle as he cried in his corner at the memories.  

“What’s your mother’s name?” You asked him. 

“She didn’t have one when she was on the reef. And it was hard for her to call my father anything other than “mate”.” He answered. 

“So what did your dad end up calling her? Or did he just stick with Mate and call that enough?” You asked. 

“He ended up calling her Sydney. Because that was the name of the city and also the name of the Aquaium. And he was the one who ended up naming us when we hatched. And while my mother liked us having names to tell us apart. My mother taught us how to live in the ocean and how to stake out good caves or make caves if we were in an area where good caves were either non existent or weren’t naturally occurring. She taught us how to make weapons and hunt and survive and that in the wild, there is no such silly things as affection for a mate- that you took whichever mate was the biggest and strongest because that meant that they were good hunters enough to feed themselves successfully. And that if the mate didn’t provide for the other well or was selfish and didn’t share their food, or were too rough in mating or forced mating…” He began. 

“A rapist and abusive and all around bad mate.” You supplied. 

“Yeah, if they were those things, then you should never put up with that and find a better mate.” Pilane continued. 

“So what did you learn from your dad?” You asked as you sat up and leaned back into the corner, facing him as your own special night vision allowed you to make him out in the darkness which was helped by his own ring glowing to illuminate the space which you appreciated as he seemed to continued to weave a bigger blanket for himself too. 

“My dad tried to teach us how to live contentedly in a tank. How to care for a mate, even one as wild and even unwilling and depressed as my mother still is. How to be a good parent and mate. How to be patient. How to be kind. How to help others, even at the cost of your own wants, desires and dreams.” Pilane answered. 

“Like any good Ethel Micro should. But I take it your mother didn’t agree with those lessons.” You ventured. 

“At first, no she didn’t. She was solely focused on teaching us how to survive and then thrive in the wild. Because while she couldn’t be released back into the wild. She always hoped her children would be. So my mother taught us all how to live on our own. My father taught us how life can be better when it’s shared with someone else and how to take being confined to a tank well.” Pilane murmured softly.  

“Some of my siblings couldn’t take- living in a tank. They did everything they could to escape and actually succeeded a few times and when they couldn’t, they outright destroyed the tank and nearly killed the aquarium staff because every time the lid was opened, they outright attacked the hands of the caretakers trying to bite and sting and invenomate them. So they got released into the wild. I have no idea if they’re still alive, I hope so. My parents tried to live in the wild on the reef. But my father couldn’t take it and was super stressed out the whole time and after a week, when Ashley came back to check on them, he swam right to her and tried to get into her wet suit with her so she would take him back to the home tank and my mother- without my father- couldn’t survive without him so she reluactantly came back too. There’s only thirteen of us that decided to stay. Five of my brothers wanted to pair with other potential surrogates and only three of my sisters did. Everyone else decided to try to rehabilitate others that were found injured in the wild in the hopes of reintroducing the mated pairs into the wild instead of just individuals and hopefully they’ve been successful.” Pilane revealed. 

“So is the hope that either most, if not all of your future children would be versatile?” You ventured. 

“How do you mean?” Pilane asked. 

“That they could be surrogates, or help rehabilitate the injured, or could even be re-introduced out in the wild?” You specified. 

“That was the plan.” Pilane answered. 

“Ashley was hoping that I would either be housed into the huge aquarium that mimics the wild the closest. So that the brood could be taught what creatures could be predators, which ones could be prey. But because it’s the big aquarium, it would mean that there would be tourists constantly during the day and then the staff and watchmen and of course we would have neighbors because there are already clownfish micros and other kinds of mated micro pairs among the other fish too.” Pilane explained. 

“Ah, I see. So you were looking for a mate that could both be territorial but still play nicely with others while being on display.” You concluded. 

“Yup.” Pilane nodded before Dr. Ashley lifted the bag and began walking again. 

“She must be boarding the plane.” Pilane ventured, judging by the way she was standing and then taking a step and waiting and then taking another step and then waiting again. 

“She’s in the line to board the plane.” Pilane explained as you held your stomach because you weren’t used to the stop and go movement. 

“You ok?” Pilane asked as you clamped your hand over your mouth. 

“I’m getting sick.” You admitted. 

“Here, you feel it the most if you’re on the bottom or hanging onto the sides of the bag, if you suspend yourself in the middle, it’ll feel like a current in a tank.” Pilane urged you as he gently reached out his hand towards you as you took as the two of you did your best to float in place, occasionally and softly getting up to the top and then floating back down. 

“Better?” Pilane asked as he noticed you pull your hand away from your mouth as you took a few calming breaths. 

“Yeah.” You nodded as you kept holding onto his hand for balance as the two of you synced your movements. 

“It’ll come in real handy when the plane takes off and lands or especially if there’s turbulence.” Pilane offered. 

“Turbulence?” You asked. 

“I’ve done this a few times already, this is my fourth flight. The first time I threw up everything in my stomach and then I just kept throwing up when the vomit soon consumed every bit of water. So do your best not to throw up.” He urged you. 

“Yup, don’t throw up, got it.” You nodded. 

“Have you been to the big tank at the aquarium?” You asked. 

“Yes. It’s wonderful. But if you like peace and quiet, you’d probably hate it.” He answered with a soft chuckle. 

“Well this is my first…everything. So let’s wait to see how I like anything until I get there.” You offered before you felt the bag swing back and forth as Ashely must have been trying to carry it in front of her as she got into her seat which made you giggle as you watched Winnie struggle to stay standing on the bottom as she slid along the bag’s bottom. 

“Don’t throw up Winnie!” You laughed before you went down and picked her up so she didn’t have to struggle and wouldn’t chance accidentally popping the bag with her spiked feet. 

“I gotcha Winnie. It’s ok. Just rest.” You urged her as you wrapped your arms under the shell of her head and her legs. She folded her legs in on herself. 

“Although Winnie wouldn’t probably last two seconds in the big tank.” Pilane admitted. 

“And any who would hunt her can get a taste of my venom.” You frowned at him and turned your back on him to use your body to shield Winnie from his sight to keep him from getting any other ideas. 

“Why do you love that crab so much?” Pilane asked. 

“Because she chose me and my company over all others. So I will repay that loyalty in kind. I know, I know, loyalty doesn’t make any sense at all in the wild. But I don’t give a fuck about what is natural in the wild. Too many micros have been lost because of the humans sticking to the scientific method of not intervening. I know nature is cruel and mother nature doesn’t fuck around or care if you live or die. Because of the survival of the fittest and all that. But shouldn’t you and I be grateful that Ethel raised micros who are above that and give nurture a chance over nature? Because if it was completely up to nature, you would have died in the egg in the ocean and would have been another’s lunch and so would your mother. But maybe it’s the humanity in us that makes us keep trying and keep getting back up when life beats us down. So yes, I have a pet and yes she may be a crab, but she’s mine. And if you pose a threat to her, I take that as you posing a threat to me. And I will use whatever force necessary to keep her safe.” You insisted. 

“I don’t mean her any harm, it was just a question. I’m not going to eat her or anything. I was just curious.” Pilane excused. 

“Oh.” You frowned. 

“Are you just used to having pets?” Pilane asked when he realized you were really defensive about the subject. 

“Yes I am. In my tank, my parents had pet algae eater snails.” You answered. 

“Snails?” He asked with a curious brow raised. 

“Yes, snails. Big dumb delicious things in a spiral shell. About as dumb as the algae they eat, maybe a peg higher. But they kept the tank clean and picking them up and breaking their own seal so you can set them down in a spot that really needed cleaning was important. My mother trained them to respond to a series of taps on their shells so they would release on their own so she could move them easier. At least Winnie is smarter than a snail and much more responsive and actually shows intelligence, and empathy and a measure of protectiveness.” You defended. 

“Delicious? Like how delicious? Like mackerel delicious? Scallop delicious? How delicious are snails?” Pilane asked curiously. 

“Well snails and whelks and things like that have a peculiar taste that doesn’t really compare to any of that. Similar to clams or mussels or something like that, because they’re all mollusks. Not quite sea slug, or sea worm, much more dense. Once I got to try a little baby one, it was all over. You have no idea how hard it was to not hunt and eat those suckers, even as big as they were. But their eggs? Ooh, man were they delicious. My parents let us eat the baby ones and the eggs to keep the population of them under control. Because each snail is both a male and a female and they fertilize each other’s eggs and will lay hundreds and up to thousands of eggs if given long enough and in good conditions.” You admitted as you slowly turned to face him and talk to him again. 

He made mental notes of what and how you responded to different approaches and tones and implications. His wild instincts were screaming at him to eat the damn little crab. And then the other more “domesticated” side, that sounded a lot like his father’s voice in his head, told him that if he wanted a chance to at least befirend you and hopefully, one day, someday- mate with you, he would have to grow to like what you liked. And if befriending a little crab was what it took, he would have to do so. As he looked at Winnie and repeated ‘friend not food’ over and over in his head. That and your scent in the water was also trying to kick his other instincts to go ahead and mate with you, becoming stronger by the minute the more you jet yourself  in the water, trying to remain stationary. 

“Really?” Pilane noted and grinned lopsidedly. 

“Oh yeah. Now for snails, you have to pierce their shells just the right spot on the spiral to get them out. Or just smash them on a rock depending on how small they are and how thin their shells are. But the eggs? Oh they were like fatty, meaty seagrapes once you get through the goo they are laid in. Now granted you had to climb out of the water to get at them because the eggs are laid in a cluster of goo that floats to the surface or some snails will climb out of the water to lay the clusters outside the water and the goo itself is sticky and tastes horrible. But if you also have cleaner fish or shrimp, they’ll clean it off of you. Because they were laid on the underside of the lids. And you had to get strong enough to move your body in the air because your weight in the water is much less than it is in the air. But once you were strong enough to climb out of the water and your suckers were strong enough to hold your weight out of the water. And hold you upside down, you could just grab and eat as many- as fast- as you could because you can only hold your breath of water for so long. But by Aquaman’s trident, was it worth it every time.” You recalled with a fond smile that Pilane found rather enchanting. 

“Huh, I’ve never had snails or their eggs. The most um, well, “domestic” thing i’m used to eating is krill cubes.” Pilane admitted.  

“Oh those are good. Really cold because the humans keep them in the freezer. Which if the tank is a little too warm, is a nice treat. But if you ever see the snail eggs, just do yourself a favor and just try to get an egg and eat just one. Depending on when it was laid- the flavor and consistency changes. But the freshest laid eggs are just pure fatty liquid. The farther along the egg in development- the bigger the snail embryo and chewy they get.” You dictated before the bag stopped moving. 

“Oh good, she’s sitting down now. It’ll be a while before the plane starts to take off.” Pilane informed you before you let yourself float down to the bottom in the middle as you pet Winnie and let Pilane sit close. 

“Can I pet Winnie?” Pilane asked before you looked to Winnie who wiggled her eyes before you set her down and she hesitantly crawled from your lap to Pilane’s. 

“Hi Winnie, don’t pinch me ok?” He requested before he hesitantly started to pet her which made her melt and lean into his touch that was now much more tender. Then she laid flat in his lap so her feet weren’t poking at his webbing or tentacles. Then she used her fan legs to clean his hands 

“Thank you.” You thanked her graciously. 

“See? Isn’t it nice to be clean?” You cooed as you reached out and pet Winnie yourself before you felt the water in the bag swirl. 

“The plane is getting ready to take off, here, lay on this side of the bag.” Pilane directed before you both laid back, side by side on the bag of the bag with Winnie between your lap and his. 

“Now when the plane takes off it’s going to feel bumpy but the gravity will be much more intense. On my first flight, I smacked face first into the side of the bag during take off and had to be that way for the whole thing and it lasts several minutes.” He explained. 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

You heard the engines outside of the plane begin to roar to life as you nervously yet excitedly reached out and held his hand while the other kept Winnie in place as he squeezed back reassuringly as you took a few deep breaths. But the more you did so, the more you could taste Pilane in the water. And damn your body’s reaction to him. Because your tentacles seemed to reach out and twist around his before the suckers stuck to the side and bottom of the bag for support. And the more you did that, the more his own did the same. And it was almost like hugging him and his body even tasted good from the sensitive feelers on the suckers of your tentacles. And before you knew it, the force of the plane racing down the runway seemed to glue you both to the back of the bag as you couldn’t help but squeal and giggle in delight at the new sensation and you could hear Pilane’s laughter mingle with your own in your ears as you laughed even harder as the sensation became even more intense before the roughness fell away. 

“And lift-off!” Pilane crooned before you felt both glued to the back of the bag and just a touch weightless before the feeling subsided the higher the plane climbed into the air before the sensation of you being glued to the bag subsided completely and the weightlessness returned and was even more poignant now than ever before. You let go of Pilane to roll and twist in the water, almost drunk and overwhelmed by the sensation as you just continued to laugh and enjoy it. 

“Is flying always this fun?” You asked. 

“Usually no. But I think I’ve been doing it wrong.” Pilane answered. 

“How can you do it wrong? By riding the bag face first?” You asked with another giggle at the mental image as Winne floated down the bottom and wedged herself in the corner to feel a semblance of being anchored as Pilane and yourself continued to roll and twist in the water and around each other, savoring the weightlessness as the plane did little arcs in the air, providing extra bounce in the water. 

“Because I was doing it all alone.” He answered. 

“This is the first flight that’s been fun. And I think it has everything to do with the company.” He ventured. 

“Aww, likewise. If I didn’t have you giving me heads up about what was about to happen and how to ride it out, I would be too stressed to enjoy it myself.” You ventured. 

“So thank you for that.” You thanked him graciously. 

“You’re welcome.” He offered before you grabbed him and hugged him before there was a bit of turbulence and both of you got pushed to the bottom of the bag with you on top of him. 

At the first sign of the turbulence, Pilane seemed to wrap all his tentacles around yours to that his own tried to smooth and bundle together to curl as much of himself around you to protect you and shield you from it. 

“Oof.” You both huffed as the feeling of being pushed into each other as he held you tighter. 

“Turbulence?” You guessed as you used your hands, braced on either side of his ribcage to sit up just enough to look him in the face as his arms loosened their hold around you just enough to let you do so as his arms went down to still hook around your waist.  

“Turbulence.” He nodded before there was more and you let yourself curl around him even more. You head nuzzled into his chest as your arms wrapped around him tightly to keep yourself tightly anchored to him. 

“Is it scary?” Pilane asked you worriedly as he started to pet your head and your hair which you found you liked quite a bit. 

“No, just different. Will the whole ride be like this?” You asked. 

“No, it should even out.” Pilane answered before it did but neither of you let go of the other as both of you were content to just lay on the bottom of the bag, holding each other before there was more turbulence and it shook you violently in the bag as you couldn’t help but yelp and cling to him harder before you slammed into his corner and one of the teeth from his arrows poked your back as you cried out in pain. 

Pilane immediately used all of his strength to pull both of you away from the corner as he then twisted you so that he was between you and the weapons in his corner. 

“Zhanna!” Pilane called out as his rings began to glow and pulse but more out of worry and alarm rather than anger. 

“One of your arrows poked me in the back, I’m bleeding.” You cried and whimpered as you reached down to feel the wound on your back. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought the bag I put them in would have…” Pilane began to excuse before both of you heard the unmistakable sound of water running. 

“Oh shit!” You both exclaimed as you both rushed to the corner to see that the arrow heads and poked multiple holes into the corner before Pilane didn’t think, but stuffed the tips of his tentacles into the holes to stop them up and took the sack gave it to you and then used his own webbing to try to seal off the corner but he didn’t have enough tentacles to stop up all the holes. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!” Pilane cursed as his tentacles, in a panic- tried to find the biggest holes and stop them up with his tentacles as both of you were glowing and pulsing in anxiety. 

“What do we do?” You asked. 

“There’s more holes than I can stop up, I can feel the water slipping around my tentacles.” Pilane answered

“But if your tentacles dry out you could lose them!” You pointed out. 

“But without water to breathe we die! I can regrow all of them if I have to.” Pilane insisted. 

“Then we’ll regrow them together.” You insisted as you stuffed your own tentacles past his as you felt the water leaving and every hole you found that Pilane wasn’t plugging up himself and stuffed your own tentacles into the holes as another leg counted how many holes there were. 

“There’s ten holes. Each of us should get five of them.” You urged him as three of your tentacles were pulling at his own to get them out of the holes to stuff the holes with your own tentacles. 

“No! My weapons put the holes in the bag, it’s my tentacles that should cover the holes.” Pilane shook his head no. 

“And how many months will it take for you to regrow all of them? If you share half of the holes with me, each of us will only have to regrow five. And instead of me only regrowing two and you regrowing all of yours. We are in this together now, for better or for worse. I got into this bag with you and I’ll leave it with you. Now get your tentacles out of the holes. Especially this one. Cause you’re gonna need it.” You urged as your tentacle wrapped around his cock tentacle and pulled it out of it’s hole and stuffed it with your own before he could reinsert it.

“But you’re already injured!” Pilane argued. 

“Winnie! I need you to clean a wound on my back!” You called out as Winnie quickly scurried over to you as you laid down on the bag aso that Winnie could use her father like arms to clean the wound of your back. 

“My mom always used her seasilk to cover wounds. Get a handful of seasilk but cover the gland with your hand so that it doesn’t touch the water and get firm or hard. And then when you have a handful of gooey seasilk, once Winnie cleans the wound, smear it with your silk. It’ll keep me from bleeding any more.” You instructed Pilane as Winnie used her delicate fan legs to clean the wound as best she could as you felt whatever was on those teeth that Pilane used as arrows had started to infect the wound as you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how ticklish Winnie’s feathered fan arms were on the rest of your skin. But also at the irony of it all. 

“Does her fan arms tickle?” Pilane asked worriedly as he worked on doing what you had instructed him to do. 

“It does, but I’m also laughing because I told one of the other males who had listened to you at first that ‘I would rather die than be mated to the likes of him’ and everyone else who listened to your bad ideas. I swore on Triton’s throne. He must have been listening and is holding me to it.” You laughed a little harder at the absurdity of it before you hissed in pain as Winnie backed away so that Pilane could apply the seasilk to the wound as you grunted and clenched your jaw and tried not to cry when it stung a little. 

“I’m sorry, this must hurt like hell.” Pilane whimpered as he covered your wound with his seasilk but was amazed when it stuck to your skin and sealed off the wound. 

“Not nearly as much as my pride has been hurting. It’s ok. I’ve gotten scraped and banged up worse. Losing five tentacles will hurt though, probably be one of the most painful experiences we’ll have.” You said.

“I’m so sorry Zhanna, I should have wrapped them in thicker seasilk.” Pilane apologized profusely as you could tell he was starting to cry. 

“Pilane?” You asked as he pulled his hand back and cried into his hands as you turned and faced him. 

“It’s ok. It was an accident. It wouldn’t have punctured the bag if it didn’t have the weight of both of us pushing on it. I just got poked and scratched a little. Once we land, I’m sure Ashely can give me some antibiotics if the wound gets infected. And with us stopping up the holes, we’ll be ok. It’s not like they’re huge gushing holes and the water is falling out faster than we can stop it up. We’ll have to keep an eye on the water level but we’ll be ok.” You soothed as you pulled his hands away from his face and held his face in your hands. 

“But I put you in danger and I never wanted to…” He began to cry before you shook your head and kissed him to keep him from spiraling. 

“I know you didn’t want to put me in danger or see me get hurt. Which is good, mates are supposed to feel that way about each other. That’s what affection is all about. But I have an idea. If we can try to stop up the holes with wet gooey seasilk. Maybe we won’t lose any tentacles at all. Let’s try ok?” You urged him. 

“But you’re not my…” Pilane shook his head before you kissed him again, much deeper this time and smiled into the kiss as he fisted his hand into your hair and clung to you as his hand that had covered the wound was splayed over it protectively. He kissed you like a micromerman starved before you broke apart to breathe again as your instincts were screaming to screw the holes, use your last minutes to fuck like crazy. But your intellect won out. If you could stop up the holes, you could mate as much as you wanted once the threat on your lives was lifted. 

“We might as well be. If we can get through this flight, I’ll bet you anything, we’ll find a way to get through anything and everything else. We just need to work together ok?” You encouraged him as he nodded and then kissed you again before you the bag was openned up and the bright light made you both pull away and shield your eyes as you adjusted to the light. 

“Shit!” Ashley screamed in horror to see multiple holes with both Pilane’s tentacles and your own sticking out, trying to keep the water in. 

When there was turbulence and she felt her lap get wet and ripped open her backpack to find her worst fears realized as stewardesses rushed over to her. 

“Help! I need help!” Ashley cried out as everyone on the plane turned to her and gasped to see what she was holding and the bag that was leaking water. Multiple people immediately started to record the incident on their phones. 

“If they run out of water they’ll die! The bag popped in the turbulence! Please! I need help saving them!” Ashley pleaded with the stewardesses as everyone looked to you and Pilane in the bag in the corner since both of you were still pulsing and glowing out of fear and anxiety and pain.  

“Oh gods! What do you need? How can we help?” The stewardesses asked. 

“I need the largest bottle of water possible! And salt! We need to make more salt water for them!” Ashley insisted as she got out of her seat and she and the stewardesses rushed to the front of the plane before a stewardess got on the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen we have an emergency on board! Anyone who has large bottles of water and any who have salt packets please raise them above your head so they can be collected. Dr. Ashley Miles is transporting micro-octo-mermaids for the Sydney Aquarium and they have somehow punctured their transportation bag and if we can not replicate salt water they will die. Please!” The stewardess announced over the intercom before half the passengers immediately held up bottles of water and salt packets they had collected from their food. They held them up as the stewardesses took a fresh trash bag and quickly took up a collection as others in first class, began recording the scene unfolding in front of them. 

“How much salt do we need?” 

“35 grams of salt for every 975 grams of water making a total weight of 1000 grams.” Ashley replied, recalling that ratio from her studies.  

“Ok, I have a liter bottle of Figi water, so how much salt do I need?” A stewardess asked as she got the bottle out of what was collected. 

“Oh gosh a liter is um….” Dr. Ashley’s brain drew a break as she watched Pilane sign what had happened to her. 

“The weapons that they made themselves, that’s what poked the holes. Right now both are filling the holes with their legs but if the legs dry out, they will lose the legs. Oh gods this is a disaster!” Dr. Ashley cried. 

“A liter is 33.814 fluid ounces. And 35 grams, according to my conversion calculator is 1.2 ounces and 975 grams of water is 34.4 ounces. So if a liter is 33.8 grams. How much salt is in the salt packets?” A kid asked as he had his school math book that had a conversion table on it as he was finishing his homework on the way to his vacation before he grabbed a salt packet and found that each packet was roughly three quarters of a gram. 

“So if each salt packet is .75 grams, and we need to salinate 33.814 fluid ounces of water in a liter, that means we need…..” A quickly calculated it as another stewardess was using a white board to do the same match equation to make sure that it was accurate. 

“We need 26 salt packets!” He announced. 

“Yup, 26 salt packets! Ok! Get the lid off and lets get the salt in the water.” The other stewardess quickly grabbed the handful of salt packets as they quickly counted 26 of them as everyone was in in the aisle and coming up and zooming in on their cameras, getting the best angle on both you and Pilane.

“Is this what being in an aquarium is like? Humans all around you?” You asked Pilane as you laid on the bottom of the bag where Ashley’s hand was as you were grateful for her warmth at least. 

“No, not nearly as stressful or life threatening.” Pilane answered. 

“Well, that’s good.” You nodded as you looked up and saw the water level drop by the minute. 

“So what kind of micro’s are they?” Another passenger asked. 

“These are blue ringed octopus micro’s they’re part of the surrogate program. The male- his name is Pilane and his mother was rescued from the wild, she was guarding her clutch of eggs and had already lost a few arms and half of her jets on her webbing. Her male had abandoned her or been eaten, we don’t know. But we took her in and rehabilitated her at the aquarium and gave her another male to help heal her and help nurse her back to health. His father Sebastian was a special micro from Dr. Ethel Atwood. Who breeds especially caring and nurturing micros. And Sebastian succeeded. He kept her from dying, he helped her heal and regrow her missing tentacles just in time to hatch her brood. And this male is special because he’s had a really hard time finding a mate. This was his fifth time to find a mate. And I had to go back to Dr. Ethel Atwood who is the premiere micro breeder in the world and she had this beautiful beauty. Her name is Zhanna and see how she’s filling half the holes with her own tentacles? And that crab in there? That’s what separates an Ethel micro from any other. That crab is her pet and her name is…Winnie. And she told him that…” Ashley began as she deciphered what Pilane was using sign to tell her. 

“They were in this together and that if they entered that bag together they were going to leave together.” Ashley smiled through her tears as Pilane and yourself held hands. 

“What’s your name?” Ashley asked the kid. 

“Blake.” He answered.

“Thank you so much for your help Blake, I’ll have this pair name a kid after you.” She thanked him as he and the stewardess were emptying the salt into the bottle before they put the cap on it and shook the bottle vigorously to get all the salt to dissolve. Pilane and yourself watched as the water level continue to lower as water continued to overflow Ashley’s hand. 

Blake laughed in delight at the thought of an octo-micro-merman being named after him but kept working diligently. Ashely held the pair in her hand in the bucket that they usually had just for ice to keep the water from making a huge mess on the floor.  

“You’re welcome.” He answered as he shook the bottle has hard as he could to make sure the salt dissolved. 

“Ok, there.” He said just as the water was pretty low in the bag. 

“Ok, I’m pouring you guys in, get your things.” Ashley insisted before Pilane and yourself pulled your tentacles out of the holes, as Pilane grabbed his bag and yours and your blanket and his as you grabbed Winnie and both of you slid down the plastic into the bottle as Pilane shoved his bag of weapons down in first and then your things and then you pushed Winnie into the bottle, happy she was still small enough to fit in the mouth of the bottle before you squeezed yourself through the mouth of the bottle, which was harder to do because your eggs were still developing, making you thicker than usual as Pilane helped you squeeze through and held his breath to make sure all of you got into the bottle and once you were through, you turned around and used your suction on the inside of the bottle to reach out and grab Pilane’s hand and pull him in. And the bottle overflowed from the displacement of your body and Pilane’s. But he squeezed through the mouth much easier. And once both of you were in, Ashley screwed the cap back on. 

“Is the water ok?” Ashley signed to Pilane who used his sign language to sign that it wasn’t perfect but it would do as you and him both clung to the sides of the bottle and caught your breath as Winnie and your things were on the bottom of the bottle. 

“Are they going to be ok?” Blake and the other stewardesses asked hopefully. 

“Yeah, they’re going to be just fine.” Ashley smiled as she wiped away the last of her tears. 

“Ladies and gentleman, we just wanted to say thank you so much for all your help. Thanks to your generous donations of water and salt we were able to turn a bottle of Figi water into salt water to save Pilane and Zhanna the blue ring octopus micro mermaids for the Sydney Aquarium! And a special thank you to Blake for doing the math and conversion to make sure that we put enough salt into the water to replicate salt water!” The stewardess announced over the intercom as everyone on board cheered. 

Ashely came back to her seat and showed Pilane and yourself off to all who wanted to see you and talk about the conservation effort. You both smiled and waved to the people she showed you off to. Especially the little kids on board who were eager to see you as you put your hands to the bottle where people would put their fingertips as so many people were moved to tears that you two were saved from a potentially life threatening situation. And Dr. Ashley got to talk all about Dr. Ethel Atwood who was the Jane Goodall of micro mermaids and about the aquarium and it’s conservation program. 

Once everyone on board got to see and meet Pilane and yourself, Ashley returned to her seat and carefully put you back into her bag so that Pilane and yourself could get some privacy. 

“Oh thank Aquaman’s trident.” You breathed in relief once Pilane and yourself were given some privacy as you went to the bottom and wrapped the bags of weapons into the blankets Pilane and you had made before you secured it into the corner as Winnie was happy to snuggle into another corner which left the other two on the other side for Pilane and yourself. 

And you didn’t know if it was the brush with death or what but the moment neither of you were on display- Pilane and yourself couldn’t keep your hands or your tentacles, much less your mouths off of each other. Pilane had you pushed up into the opposite corner that Winnie was inhabiting as his third tentacle, his hectocotylus, his cock tentacle unsheathed itself. 

And the really wonderful thing was that while it looked and acted like a normal tentacle. It hid a delightful surprise. Because sheathed within was the cock of your dreams. The head was large and bulbous and ribbed. And it was big enough to make you feel perfectly stuffed yet not so big that it was an uncomfortable stretch but when it moved in and out of you, at the base was not just another bulbous bulge. But a whole knot that was trying it’s hardest to seat into you. And another flap that was a flange that was like a ribbed tongue that massaged your clit. You wrapped your arms around Pilane’s neck and shoulders as he suckled at your breasts. While his hands were firmly grasping your hips and pulling you down onto him while his own hips were hiking up into yours. Thanks to his other tentacles were suctioned up beside you so that his whole lower half would hike up into you while he had your own other tentacles suctioned to the bottom of the bottle so that it was a stretch and really anchored you down and only added that much more power into the strokes. 

“Oh gods!” You keened as that knot was starting to ease into you as your canal opened up in excited anticipation to take it. You were so close to your sexual release, you could literally taste it since there were so much pheramones in the water being released from both of you and it was literally intoxicating and you wanted his cock fully seated and in you and filling you fully and stuffed to the brim. 

“Come on, stuff me full of that amazing, wild seed of yours.” You purred as you kissed him and bit his lip just hard enough to make him whine and groan before he grabbed your hips so hard you thought he was going to bruise them, before he pushed that bulbous knot at the base into you and the feeling of that knot seating itself into you and then to feel that tapered head breach the base of your womb and the ridges on the head locked it into place at the top of your canal while the tip filled your womb with seed. Your womb fluttered, coating all the eggs that were lining it in the sperm as your orgasm filled every fiber of your being. 

The water was practically a pheromone soup by now. There was wonderful, heady haze overwhelming your senses and his. His whole body tensed as you could feel that tentacle pulse as his sperm pumped down the channel of his cock tentacle. He must have been saving it for a very long time because your belly started to bulge even more as your womb was stuffed with almost as much of his cum as it was your eggs. You rested your head in the crux of his neck and shoulder as you clung to him as you both rode out the rest of your orgasms before both of you seemed to go lax as he let go with his suckers of the tentacles above you as he moved you down so that you were both sitting down in the bottom corner. 

“You still with me?” Pilane asked. 

“Oh I’m never leaving you.” You insisted as you nuzzled your head into his chest as he started to pet your hair and comb though your silken tresses with his fingertips, marveling at the fact that the most fiercely loyal, brilliant, defiant and beautiful micro mermaid he had ever met in his life was happily sated and at peace in his arms and hopefully didn’t hate his guts still. 

“Likewise.” He grinned before the knot began to deflate and the ridges also laid down and the tip exited your womb as the base of the womb closed tightly once it had left, keeping every drop of sperm in your womb as you got after shocks as he gradually pulled out of you. 

“Wait, no come back.” You complained as you reached for it with another tentacle to wrap around it to keep it from resheathing itself in the tentacled arm before trying to guide it back to your center. 

“You wanna go again?” Pilane asked in pleasantly surprised amusement. 

“Do you not want to go again?” You returned. As you teased the head of the cock by swirling it around in your entrance as his eyes got dark and filled with lust again. 

“No I do, I just didn’t think, that um that you liked me enough to go again. Cause I thought I was a ‘Plain Pain in Your Ass’?” Pilane admitted. 

“Pilane, look at me. I like you. I have great affection for you that will grow into a love that will burn as bright as the sun one day. I’m genuinely attracted to you. You are everything I never knew I always wanted. You’re brilliant and clever and tenacious and have honor and were willing to dry out and lose all of your tentacles, including your cock just to keep me safe. Why wouldn’t I love and adore you for trying to sacrifice yourself like that? Even when I made your life miserable, and even when you gave me a taste of my own medicine. Which I needed. Ethel Micros have been told for countless generations that we’re the best micros in the world. And it gives us egos that are too big. So thank you for popping it, otherwise I never would have been able to get into this bottle.” You teased with an easy smile that made him chuckle. 

“Well in that case you’re welcome.” Pilane offered. 

“See, if you had been more forthcoming and told me all about you and your situation on day one, we would have been doing this on day one. And then you never would have felt the need to test me out and single me out and pissing me off by interrupting the marital bliss of my sisters. And honestly, if you had told more girls the truth about you, discretely of course. There would have been a fight over you that I gladly would have competed in. You’re a wild type, remember? And we will happily give our children the best of both worlds. Both the wild instincts coupled with almost countless generations of breeding for nurture instead of pure nature. And our children will have an overabundance of choices for what they get to do with their lives. And that’s the best thing a parent can provide for a child, a choice and intelligence and instincts to choose the best path for themselves. All of that might as well have been super sweet seagrapes to a youngling at the rate I would have eaten it up if you had just been more forthcoming with me. I’m sorry you had bad experiences in the past when you were honest and it backfired on you and it led you to believe that no one would love you or want you because of your circumstances. Because nothing could be farther than the truth. And frankly, while I’m sorry you’ve had a hard time in the past, it just means that you’ve gained more experience for the future. I’m really happy and relieved it didn’t work out the four times before you could meet me though. Because now that I have you, I’m never letting go. I’m much too stubborn for that. Which I’m sure you’ve gathered by now.” You reassured him as you held his handsome face in your hands again. 

“You may have given that impression, yes.” He shrugged with a lopsided grin. 

“Yeah, so I don’t know about you but it might as well be pheromone soup in here and we have several more hours of flight left right? Isn’t it a long flight to Australia?” You prodded. 

“It is.” He nodded.

“Then let's not waste another moment. Besides, let's see just how big of a pain you could be in my ass if you’re keen on trying.” You offered. 

“Oh you mean like this?” Pilane offered before he stroked down your sides, held your hips in his hands and canted your pelvis before he sheathed his cock into your womanly canal while another tentacle prodded your anal pucker once the flap that covered both was relaxed and flipped backwards. 

“Oh yeah, just like that.” You moaned before the other tentacle finally wriggled deeper into you as you laid back onto your own back tentacles while your forward ones wrapped around his waist in turn. 

“Do it to me.” Pilane pleaded as he laid over you.

“Gladly.” You giggled before three of your tentacles reached under his webbing and poked at his own anus with your own tentacles. He shivered and shuddered before you managed to squeeze the tip of one tentacle into it and then another and then used your purchase to spread it wide before stuffing it with the third. 

“Oh gods!” Pilane whimpered and shuddered and started to pant as he held you even tighter. 

And you then reached up and anchored the suckers at the tip of the tentacle deep inside and then used that suction to shove the rest of the arm into him and he keened and cried out in ecstasy. Then he mirrored you before he put two tentacles into your rear and between his already very large cock in your womanhood and the the other two in the rear, you were overwhelmed and stretched to the limit. As an octo-micro- you were used to squishing and squeezing yourself to get into tight spaces but this was stretching you to your body’s limit. Then you seemed to sync up your movements with his so that you were fucking each other in tandem. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Pilane panted, keened and moaned as he rested his head on your upper chest before nuzzling with both of your breasts as his arms wrapped around you to hold you close as you threaded your fingers in his hair to hold his head there. Your breasts started to grow larger and heavier immediately upon insemination as your body was already preparing to become a mother and to nurse your brood that was becoming fertilized inside you. 

You swirled the tentacle inside of him and he nearly came undone before you added a second to the mix. Both tentacles twisting together like a corkscrew as Pilane pounded into you so hard, the knot squeezed and popped in and out of you with more ease than it had the first time as you body welcomed his. 

“Pilane!” You keened as your body reached it’s climax but it seemed Pilane wasn’t done and continued his onslaught as your body was just over the edge of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in pleasure and ecstacy. 

There was nothing outside of you and him in this bottle. You surrendered yourself completely to him while your tentacles continued to stroke into him before a third joined in and finally Pilane slammed his cock and his other tentacles into you. He was overstuffing your womb with his old seed seeping out, past the ridged head and past the glorious knot at the base to make room for new seed to be pumped with as much force as your jets over your webbing of your waist and lower body. All while your fingertips clawed at the muscle of his back and shoulders, trying to get as much of his body touching yours as possible. 

“I didn’t think…I hadn’t realized…I couldn’t have imagined…oh gods, that was epic and awesome. I had no idea that was…a thing.” Pilane panted as he clung to you as he tried to catch his breath as you did the same. 

“Yeah, one of my older brothers from a previous batch prefers to have a male for a mate and together they’re in the surrogate program and look after clutches where the female didn’t make it through the incubation process. And they’re in the tank right next to my parents. And that’s how they mate and it looked sexy and I was hoping for a mate who was into at least trying it to see if it felt as good as it looked.” You admitted. 

“I see, yeah, it felt, gods, it still feels amazing.” Pilane admitted. 

“So you’d be up to trying it again?” You asked hopefully. 

“Oh I’ll gladly be the biggest pain in your ass that you can stand.” Pilane teased which got you both to laugh. 

“Only if I can be just as big of one- in yours.” You grinned cheekily. 

“Yes Ma’am.” Pilane nodded before he kissed you softly before the kiss morphed quickly from sweet to needy and wanting again before you went several more rounds until both of you had completely exhausted each other. 

And by the time the plane landed and Ashley got off and went through customs, when she opened the bag and pulled out the bottle to see Pilane and yourself practically tied yourselves into one big knot but sleeping blissfully away in the bottom, she smiled happily as she realized your belly looked way bigger and the water was cloudy from all the sperm and pheramones in the water that was rising up to the top and had a film of milky white at the surface. 

“Wow, you two have been busy.” Ashley giggled. Then she got her passport stamped and once she was through customs and picked up the rest of her luggage, she went straight to the Aquarium to put Pilane and yourself into quarantine and had to cut the mouth of the bottle off so you could get out of the bottle. But once Winnie and your things were in the quarantine tank. She fed you both a meal fit for a king which you both hungrily devoured most of it as Winnie was happy to eat all of the leftovers and you had barely enough time before you needed to lay your eggs in the nest provided to you. Pilane and yourself methodically pierced each egg with your venom spikes so that the babies had both your strain of venom and his as they would grow and develop. 

The eggs were in the middle of incubation by the time you got to go into the big tank after quarintine that Pilane had told you about. Pilane, yourself and Winnie went around the tank to meet your neighbors so to speak. And even his parents. His father was so happy especially to meet you and happy to know that Ethel was still alive and still doing her thing. Ethel even came to see you both moved into the tank. And meeting his mother was something else. And you could see so much of her in Pilane but you could feel so much of his adopted father in him too. Sydney was actually delighted that you had effectively stood sucker to sucker up to Pilane and had fought with him and didn’t go down without a fight. And that you had made your own weapons and even made your own new style of “killer cord” that you had spun into a pillow. But once it was undone, had twice as many spikes as Pilane’s and two lines for venom to go into. She loved the fact that an “Ethel Micro” was as “wild” as you seemed in personality. And was very proud of Pilane for holding off to find the perfect mate for himself. And to see your eggs made her cry tears of joy that she had held on long enough to see them and thank her husband for helping her stay along long enough to see it with her own eyes. And especially to hear that you were going to be teaching them everyting they would need to know to either be surrogates, re-habilitators or even go back into the wild made her unbelievably happy. 

And of course it made Pilane so happy to see his mom so happy for one of the few times in his life. And from that day on, she never seemed to be unhappy. She had her son and his mate and their brood incubating so close to her. Just like they would be in the wild since family members tended to stick close together in the wild and form tight knit communities as opposed to the solitary lives the blue ring octopus’ did in the wild. And to have you be her latest pupil of learning how to live in the wild on a reef and even off of a reef made her so happy, especially since she knew you were about to be repeating such lessons to your children soon. You introduced snail eggs to her and Pilane as his father had almost forgotten how good they could be as you helped keep the snail population in check and in balance in the big tank. 

And while Sydney didn’t necessarily understand your relationship with Winnie, she respected you enough to respect Winnie as your pet and went around with you as you visited your other neighbors and requested for none of your neighbors to eat her. But considering you were one of the deadliest and most lethal of all the other micros, your request was of course accepted. Because most of them didn’t want to piss off the lethal new neighbors with the potentially violent mother in law. You made sure that through every molt Winnie had, you made her a new harness that served to identify her as yours. 

And before you knew it, your children hatched from their eggs about the same time other micro’s children were hatching too and Sydney of course was overjoyed to be a grandmother, almost as much as Pilane was happy to finally be a father and his father to be a grandfather.  And of course, introducing your brood to the others in the tank, to make sure that specifically your children would not accidentally invenomate their playmates and neighbors was a big responsibility. 

And to see so many tourists come just to get pictures of you and Pilane and your brood and his parents. Especially since the video of the two of you almost dying on the plane went viral and got put on so many ‘restore faith in humanity’ video compilations and even made the news. It caused quite the sensation. 

And the Aquarium saw a spike in visitors just to see Pilane and you and your kids. Especially as you both played with them and taught them how to live on a reef, how to surrogate, how to cohabitate with others, how to rehabilitate, how to live in a private tank and, if possible, live on a reef in the wild. Because you wanted each and every single one to be armed with knowledge about how to live in any and every condition and circumstance and to adjust and to be happy and content with those circumstances and choices that they would have the chance to make. Choices you could only dream of and dreams that had never truly died in Sydney either. Who was happy and content to live vicariously through her children and grandchildren. 

But yet Pilane had already given you more than you had ever imagined possible for yourself. You were happy to call this huge tank with all kinds of neighbors home, because it was where Pilane called home. And while you could get used to the noise and the tourists and the general background noise that this huge tank always offered both day and night. You were still very happy, with your Plain Pain in Your Ass for your mate. Who only made life that much richer and that much more fun and interesting. Because your life never had another dull moment. 

Because just as one brood had grown up and were ready to become a mate to someone else, and start families of thier own, you were happy to start the process all over again with Pilane. Over and over again, for as long as the two of you lived.

[sadachmesarthim]

towers for your honeycomb chap 2: more meany pants tony

part one

content: tony’s being a dick again, mention of Peter’s Family Problems, confined spaces, smoking, @carelessannie​ is a character and Has A Boyfriend That Is a Real Person I Know, tony calls peter a turtle, crying

word count: 1.5k  //   square filled: locked in a closet!

song for this chapter here -> that’s not a good excuse - eli. 

It was late, it was cold... mid-December nights were usually slow, but not no-car-in-sight-for-hours slow. Peter didn't handle any of those well on their own, but all three?

Working with Tony the entire time didn't do much to help, either.

They'd clocked on together, they'd be clocking off together - it was his worst nightmare. There wasn't anything to do, either - they'd already finished half of the closing list and every single chore. Annie had FaceTimed her boyfriend after finishing her chem homework - hell - the girls'd made a snowman outside the front of the stand, for fuck's sake!

Time was barely crawling. It made Peter irritable - apparently, it made Tony irritable, too.

⁘|||⁘

Annie hung up her FaceTime call with Sebastian, excited at the prospect of food. She turned, ready to take orders from the three that were now in front of her. "Okay - Panda Express - what is he bringing us?"

Courtney piped up first. "I'll just do another of what you're doing, A." She went back to her phone, more interested in her boy of the week than the rest of the conversation.

Annie typed it into her texts, looking back toward the boys. "You two - what is he getting you?" Tony spoke next. "I'll do the same thing. I'm easy." Peter scoffed a bit at that, covering it poorly with a cough. Annie shot him a look. Don't start shit. 

"Peter, anything?" She knew him too well to ask. "Nah babe, I'm gonna eat at home."

That suddenly got Tony's attention. "What, you're not eating? We still have two hours left, and you look like you're about to fall over." Perfect Parker timing, his stomach growled - audibly enough to justify Tony's comment.

Peter shoved past him, making his way toward the back. He didn't want to engage - he wanted to- to- to text Resa, pour himself into some chores, maybe dive into a snowdrift - literally anything but continue the conversation.

Tony on the other hand... he didn't know when to stop. "What's your deal, Parker? The man is bringing us food, on his own dime. You really gonna be rude enough to refuse?"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "It doesn't matter what my deal is, Tony - maybe I just don't like Panda. Maybe I don't want something that heavy on my stomach. Maybe my mom has food waiting for me at home. You don't know shit - so why don't you just leave it alone?" Mmm a bit harsh, Parker, take it down a notch.

Tony scoffed. "We both know you don’t have anything waiting for you, anywhere, Parker. Quit talkin' big and just accept the generosity."

Both Courtney and Annie gasped at that one. It was common knowledge around the stand that Peter's home life was off-limits. Hell, everyone's was - leave your shit at the door applied to everyone else's shit too. Apparently, Tony didn't get the memo.

"Okay, nope. I'm not listening to this conversation. Both of you, fridge!" Courtney - taller and stronger than both of them - grabbed the boys, practically tossing them into the walk-in. The door slammed behind them, something jamming it from the outside.

Her voice was muffled, but they both understood - they weren't getting out until they figured this out. They'd been fighting off and on for months, and it was causing serious issues in the stand. The girls were uncomfortable - sure, it was fine if they were separated during shifts, but that couldn't go on forever.

This just happened to be everyone’s final straw.

Peter pressed his forehead into the door, not wanting to face the other man. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on spending his evening - and now that he found himself here, he was going to do everything he could to avoid avoid avoid any further confrontation. 

His mouth hadn’t caught the memo. 

“That’s two.” Shut the fuck up. 

He couldn’t see them, but he could practically hear Tony’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Two what?” He was still seated, from what Peter could tell. At least he wasn’t about to get his ass beat.

“Two apologies you owe me. Me and the girls. For being rude, and talking shit in the stand.” God damn it Peter, shut your mouth!

Tony scoffed. “You’re still on about that? Come on, Parker, can’t you just let it go?” 

He tried. Peter tried really, really hard to hold himself back, he did. But it just... it wasn’t like him, to take shit like this. To allow someone like- like- like Tony Stark to make his life a living hell. Mob connections be damned, he wasn’t going to take it anymore. It was exhausting, and Peter was tired of coming to work every day dreading his shift. 

He got up, turning to face Tony. He might’ve been shorter than him normally, but with Tony sat on the foot-tall milk crate, there was quite a difference. It was childish, but it made him feel like he had the upper hand. 

“You- you- you can’t keep pushing me around like this, Tony. You’ve been a dick to me for months, and I’m sick of it. All I wanted was one stupid, little apology, and you can’t even give me that! 

“I left you alone! I tried to make our shifts together easy, I stayed out of your way! I begged Courtney to never schedule us or rotate us together. Do you know how difficult that is?? Especially in a stand this size, Tony, it’s nearly impossible.” He was near tears at this point, voice close to breaking. 

“And then you have the audacity to come here, in my stand, and talk about my- my family - which was not fucking okay, by the way. It just- it’s so cruel, Tony! I’m done!

“I tried to be nice, I really did. But you make it so fucking difficult. So forgive me for not being able to just let it go.” 

⁘|||⁘

Peter was always an ugly crier. Snotty, red eyes, uncontrollable shaking. 

He was also an angry crier. The two tended not to mesh well. 

It didn’t help that people tended to not take him seriously anyway. He was small, entirely not intimidating. Couldn’t hurt a fly. The second you get him even remotely upset, and he bursts into tears? 

He wasn’t expecting sympathy from Tony. 

⁘|||⁘

He was done sobbing by this point, but the damage was done. 

He’d thoroughly embarassed himself in front of the man he’d just... just demanded so much from. It wasn’t his lowest moment, but it was close. Nice going, P.

Peter was convinced he couldn’t be locked in the fridge with anyone wor-

There was a hand on his shoulder. 

His head shot up, grabbing Tony by the wrist. “Don’t touch me!” It came out louder than he’d intended, and the look of fear written on Tony’s face did make him feel a bit bad. Peter hadn’t let go. “Just- don’t- just ask first, fuck.” 

He released his grip, turning to dig his head back into his arms. He’d tucked himself into the far corner, drawing his knees up around him so he could get as far from the door as possible. He wanted to sink himself straight into the floor, mesh with the concrete, never show his face at work again - 

But there Tony was, looking down at him like he was a startled puppy. 

He plopped himself down next to Peter, facing in toward the center of the fridge. He tilted his head, making contact with Peter’s left knee. “Would you look at me?” Gentle.

Peter sniffled, trying to clear his nose. He knew he wasn’t the most presentable right now - wet spots soaking both of his sleeves, nose probably bright & cherry-tinged. He shifted, just barely peeking past his forearms. 

“There we go.” Peter sniffled again. 

Tony looked like there was a war going on inside him. Peter’d never spent this long looking at him - certainly never this long at his eyes. There was so much to them, so much hurt and understanding he’d never seen before. So much he recognized.

Tony was drawing circles into his shin, now, steady movement bringing him back to the present. “Come on, little turtle, come outta that shell for me.” 

Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “’m not a turtle.” 

Tony laughed. “What, then? Hermit crab? Clownfish? What else hides when it’s upset?” It was a sad attempt at breaking the tension, and he knew it. 

Peter wasn’t phased by it, either. His glare stuck. 

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. No animal nicknames. I got it.” He smiled as his hands came away from Peter’s body, pulling up in a defensive position. “Plain ‘ole human insults, then, promise.” 

Peter let out a huff. “How hard was that?” 

“Was what?” 

“You said sorry.” Oh. 

“I... I guess I did.” Tony’s hands came down. He pushed himself to his feet, crossing toward the door. “Consider it an accident.” His entire demeanor had shifted - he was back to his normal, standoff-ish self. 

Whoever Peter’d spent the last couple of minutes with was gone. 

“N- Tony I-” 

“Forget it, Peter. Seriously.” He pushed at the handle of the fridge door, thankful it was free to open. He bypassed the girls, grabbing the rest of his shit and tearing out the door. The cigarette barely lit with how fast he made the trek to his truck, lighter burning the side of his thumb. 

When did he get so soft? 

Fuck.

tag list: @longlivestarker​ @bluestarker​ xoxo​

[curious-minx]

Zippity Zoomer: Mining the Minecraft Generation

One picture is usually all it  takes to transport the viewer, one picture can create many stories.

“Where Y’All Sitting” is an image meme template ripped from good ol’ Vectortoons, a ubiquitous nobody. This meme represents a leftover relic of the days of true Beliebers.  This particular variant of the meme offers up a collage of usernames turned public personas of Minecraft content creators, and is not in fact secret gibberish code that Gen-Z uses for telepathic communication. For the record, and for the sake of offering my own  POV, dear Reader  I’m a rapidly decaying millennial screeching into my late twenties. The following is an investigation into a NEW BREED(Z) of Celebrity, The Minecraft Streamer.

////

Millennials are more obsessed with generational categories because we have never felt an ounce of control in our own destinies.” - Me, a too wordy Millennial 

My first impression when I started Googling these names one by one is that Google generously auto generates the word “merch” next to nearly every name on this list. In the Age of the Hustle, our children’s children are hawking off not just plain ol t-shirts; but also offer a wide array of: hoodies, cell phone cases, coffee mugs, pillows, stickers (oh god, the  endless flood of stickers), clocks, shower curtains, coasters, jigsaw puzzles, magnets, tapestries, bedding (no, bedframes?), hats, fannypacks, flags, stationary, facemasks, baby onesies, coins, drinkware, pet clothing, and fake presidential campaign merch are just a smattering of the wares hawked by the people listed in this picture. This list of Minecraft enthusiasts turned digital entrepreneurs are all mostly various stripes of the same  floppy haired young men variant. An unyielding crop of snarky cocky content creators. Most of them are banking off of the success of a digital experiment that asked, “What if Lego, but as a video game?” No! There’s more to Minecraft than that! So much more and a decrypted boomer like me could  never hope to decipher.

Buy my Merch because I’m born to be on Merch. 

The cockiness permeating from these content creators is understandable. Most of these current Professional Gamers were raised devoid of a functioning plausible civilization. These Gaming Content Creators can have faith in the digital system  because it is through the stage of Minecraft they are  accumulating millions of youtube and twitch subscribers. All of these content providers are part of millions of young people’s media diet, websites churn out articles tracking down their love lives. People want to know if badboyhalo is dating Skeppy ? People want to know if Addison Rae is joining a Minecraft based content farm collective Dream SMP? Why has Tommy Innit been banned from Tik Tok? Why did georgenotfound boycott Wendy’s? Were Minx and Wilbur Soot really dating?  Does technoblade have ADD? Okay, mainly the website Distractify is asking these questions  the Google algorithm certainly encourages them too). This onslaught of articles proves that not only are these largely Minecraft based Twitch streamers profitable from a merchandising stand point but they can also be mined for tabloid fodder.  

Wilbur Soot - who is not an Incel. He’s just cheeky. 

The connective tissue that brings all of these names together is not just Minecraft and Game streaming, but the common cause of a collective, the Dream SMP collective. Apparently, young people need a collective to believe in. I know I would be lost without an Animal Collective or an Odd Future to help illustrate what a collaborative effort should look like.  Young people gravitate towards collectives and communities at large, because it is no longer available in the real world (and this was the case well before Covid). Take another name from the meme lunch room, Wilbur Soot, who is not only another Twitch based video game streamer, but he is also a musician with equally viral music videos . Soot’s general sound/vibe could be described as if Los Campesinos were extremely online and played less instruments (and just generally were worse, okay maybe that’s a thin, mean comparison). His music is not offensive, one song in particular “E-girl” finds Soot’s flipping expectations and criticizes the Internet for aiding an unhealthy romantic  fixation. Surprisingly thoughtful material that is trying to articulate the raw feeling of people plugged in since birth. Seeing  as most of these Minecraft based guys are known for being on the mic for hours at a time it does make Soot’s four minute song feel way longer than it should be. Soot’s got an impressive music production style down that makes his schtick go down easier. My verdict, Wilbur Soot is certainly a step above Hobo Johnson.

One of these e-boys were reported on for  making an off colored jokes on a Jackbox stream, and is about a complete non-story as you would expect. I am sure most of the young men listed in this collage are walking Ninja/pewdiepie hate speech bombs waiting to happen, but I am sure that kind of controversy is saved for later down the road to get over that 10 million subscriber hump.For the most part, this is bunch of dorky tech savvy teenagers who indulge in wholesome trolling and have a fixation on serving the Sponsors.  

These Minecraft based content creators’ main business pitch is a Maximalist Parasocial Bonding that specifically taps into the fan’s Good Friends based cortex. In no way am I adverse to freebasing on parasocial adult (mostly male) friendships. Being a human being, especially young and naive, is a lonely and miserable experience. People need all the faint grasp of human  connection he/she/they can get. None of these kids invented this dehumanizing that rewards people who strip themselves down to the basic elementals, strip themselves down into a celebrity sized square.

A still from the upcoming DREAM SMP movie trailer that is currently nestled at 11,100,784 views

Writing this article has been a personal exercise in fighting against validating every one of my knee-jerk reactions against these Simple Minecraft Dreamers. I saw a sea of probable goons rolling around in their sponsored donated money pits where donors’ flex control over the content provider. Give badboy Skeppy 10,000 big ones and he’ll shave his head for you and put on a show. Digging deeper, and I assure you what is lurking behind every seemingly bizarre and incomprehensible faction on the Internet is a longing for community. An all too real human ache and urge to spin stories and craft personal mythos. Minecraft is not the Marvel Industrial Complex but the Dreamers, muffins and potatoes could change all of that. I keep thinking that Minecraft is just a video game version of Legos and that it will one day fade away, but I am dead wrong. It is I that will be doing the fading away. The stories and servers of Minecraft myth makers will outlive me. My body will decompose but a Minecraft streamer’s plastic phone case will endure.

[musings-of-a-19yr-old]

WELCOME TO #IMANI’S MUSINGS!

Welcome to Imani’s Musings; your #1 social commentary! You heard it here first(😉). From your host, ME; a self-inflicted outsider looking in, someone who is more often than not guilty of being a teensy bit too passive in her approach to life; someone who rather than get in on all the action, ‘prefers’ to watch ‘safely’ from the sidelines. In truth maybe it’s because I’m a little too scared to go out into the real world and fully immerse myself in the land of the living. Maybe because I’m terrified of rolling the dice every single day to see which experience I’ll have to settle for today; beauty? joy? pain? an up or down? a high or low? failure? success?  Love? Hate? Adoration or Discrimination? The good, the bad, or the ugly? Will it be a dream come true day, a nightmare when it rains it pours day, a meh day, or all of them wrapped into one day?

So I limit myself to watching life from the sidelines, isolating myself, withdrawing from the rest of the world, and retreating into the cocoon of my imagination fearful of being rejected, of being told my screwball personality, and wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve countenance are too messy, too awkward, too much to handle.

Interestingly enough, I have found comfort in writing, journaling, and using Plain-Ol words to create depth, meaning, belonging, nostalgia, and most importantly hope! Hope that I will one day be able to overcome the inertia with which I currently approach my life. The process of arousing the suppressed feelings buried deep within me, pooling together the most random collection of words to develop a stream of consciousness that adequately captures my inner turmoil, fills me with sweet cathartic relief, to say the least.  Thankfully it also helps my over-active, hypersensitive, HSP brain to cope with the extra-loud, sometimes hostile, in-your-face, and confrontational physical environment by allowing me to break down the countless bits of overwhelming sensory information mercilessly flung my way, each and every day by the real world, into smaller digestible pieces. Interestingly enough this recently re-discovered hobby has become the source of my empowerment, my strength! My means of communicating with the outside world, my way of interacting with my fellow human beings who I yearn to connect with so dearly, to love, exchange camaraderie with, laugh with, hold hands with, hug, and share the deepest parts of myself with. BUT but who are more often than not put off by the aloof, reserved mask of shyness that I put on to shield my sensitive, introverted, spirited, idealistic soul.  

 The words on the page give me a voice, who would’ve thought that my imagination would be the key to unearthing this newfound feeling of confidence, that was previously so foreign to me. When I write I’m no longer the timid, socially awkward girl struggling to live up to the demands and pressures of our fast-paced, ever-changing, technology-reliant, 21st-century social life, I’m no longer an outsider looking in, I’m just your resident wordsmith, romanticist, screwball, HSP, young at heart but an old soul, overthinking-insomniac, with a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve countenance. It’s a lot, I know.🙈🙈🙈

Just kidding😅. Slowly but surely writing is helping me to not only discover myself but also to appreciate this person that I am discovering myself to be, instead of chasing this idealized image of perfection that I have in my head of who I think I am supposed to be. Most importantly I have discovered that only by laying bare my soul for all to see, only by showing glimpses of vulnerability, only by admitting to others that I am flawed, as counter-intuitive as it may seem will people ever truly love me. (Not the mask I put on for them to see, or an idealized image they have in their heads of me, but the real, unwavering ME!).

Moreover, I have learned that as different as we all may seem, on the inside you and I are similar as can be quite literally! we are all souls housed in a body of cells and matter, we all bleed red, and we are all kept alive by our hearts beating on average 60 to seventy times per minute. We are also very similar in the more abstract sense of our need for touch, human connection, love, and affection, we all fear rejection, failure, and the thought of suppressing our true selves our entire lives in order to fit into the societal definition of what is acceptable, being unwanted, cast aside or shunned by our neighbors, countrymen, families, and peers, we all tremble at the thought of never finding our purpose, of floating through life feeling irrelevant, of not mattering, of not making an impact,  at the thought of being instantly forgotten the moment we step out of a room, or worse yet being seemingly invisible the moment we step into the room, going through life without someone ever acknowledging our existence.

The point is I think it’s time for me to let my guard down, come out of my shell and you know start to explore the possibilities that life has to offer, my purpose, and potential paths for my future, cause if not now, at 19yrs of age (during my youth; the supposed prime of my life) then when!!! Anyway, I have decided to give this living life to the fullest thing a go more often and this blog is my way of inviting you along with me on my journey, letting my guard down, opening up, and, showing off my writing skills, if at all I have any😬😬😅 

P/S: Your welcome!😏🙃😝

TTYL!!!!! 

BYE FOR NOW👋😉 

SO GLAD I GOT THAT OFF MY CHEST, Phew!!!😅😊 

[id-never-letyoudown]

Rare pair hell below (plz work readmore) part 2

Henry Hidgens didn't have the best childhood. Being shipped off to live with his aunt and uncle after coming out to his parents and then disowned does not make for a happy nor healthy mind. He was sixteen when it happened. His only light in those trying times were his aunt and uncle. They supported him. No matter what he wished to do.

He wanted to learn an instrument? Sure. He wanted to take up songwriting? Absolutely. Shoot a gun? You bet. And Henry was quite ambitious to say the least. He dabbled in a little bit of everything while he lived with them. It had been the first time he'd been allowed to truly express himself.

And they accepted him. Sure they had to get used to a few things, they'd sometimes use the wrong name-but they were always quick to correct themselves. And that was all he could ask for. His parents never bothered to try. Last he heard they were telling people that their only daughter had died and they had no sons.

Henry wanted to do big things, make a name for himself doing what he loved. And he just happened to love many things-and if you asked him he excelled at them all. Of course.

It took some string pulling and a lot of extra credit and the like, but Henry had managed to get himself accepted into a nice college outside of Hatchetfield. He never could decide on what he wanted to do, so again he tried a bit of everything that tickled his fancy.

He was particularly gifted in biology. Anything to do with the human body. And had a special interest in things that had adverse effects on them as well. Diseases, plagues-you name it.

His presentations drew a lot of attention. Attention that brought him to the door of the P.E.I.P. Not literally to their door, of course. Especially when he moved back and resumed his studies in Hatchetfield. They were interested in him. His intellect. And thought he could help them. The fact that he called Hatchetfield his home was another point of interest. And the fact that his last remaining family had died in a freak accident months prior made him stand out. A smart man who knew how to handle a gun and who wouldn't be missed if he should disappear? He was practically made for their organization.

Henry declined their initial offer, having just landed a position on a team of scientists currently studying a disease he was very curious about-and just so happened to be immune to.

He had made a lot of friends at Hatchetfield Community College-a few of which became his lovers. They would all go to the football field at five o'clock to catch up every day. Always. Henry had been a little impatient and wasn't as thorough as he should have been during his decontamination procedure one day, eager to see his boys.

He infected every one of them. And had to watch them each die, one by one. Comforting them while searching for a cure. He still visits that campus in the anniversary of the start of their collective deaths, because having to go back days in a row would have been too much for him.

He ended up joining P.E.I.P shortly after that. He wasn't at the top of their ranks, sure. But he was known as a good marksman and the person you wanted to see if you needed some special equipment. But his speciality was theorizing. Because he had this uncanny ability of almost always being right.

It was discovered that he had foresight. Not the most powerful they've seen, but a good asset nonetheless. This is what made him a valuable member of P.E.I.P.

It should be noted that Henry, though preferring very much to work alone, had grown incredibly fond of a certain general. The two had even-and continue to-hooked up on several occasions. Henry had gotten a little attached and was hurt when he discovered McNamara was marrying his good friend Xander-but he supported them both fully. The three do still fool around together and Henry even became the surrogate for their son, in exchange for "a bottle of brandy for every stretchmark" and "never ask me for anything ever again".

His time at P.E.I.P was filled with adventure and excitement. He loved every minute of it.

And then the fatal day happened.

Henry was well aware that they had lost an agent to the Black and White. But that didn't stop his curiosity. He swore it was like it was calling to him. The portal. He'd dream about it. Sometimes he found himself passing by the lab it was kept in and stopping for no reason other than to gaze longingly at it.

He didn't have the clearance to venture into the Black and White, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't come up with a good enough reason for he himself to go.

And then one day he just so happened to find the masterkey card just... lying on his desk. Like it was waiting for him. And when he grabbed it it felt as though someone was standing right over him. Just this great, overwhelming presence. But a... welcomed one. Which wouldn't make sense to him until later.

He had to sneak in when everyone else had gone. But once he made it, once he stepped into the Black and White for the very first time-he fucking ate the primordial pavement and cracked his helmet.

And just as the panic was about to set in he heard it. A man's voice. One he's heard before but could only now make out.

It'd felt like he'd been wandering around that great expanse of nothingness for days-it had only been minutes-but seeing this stranger, and knowing he must have so much to tell him, made it all worth it.

"Was wondering when you were gonna get the hints, Dove." The man spoke, wearing far too much denim for Henry's tastes-but somehow he made it work. "Bet you got a lotta questions."

"You have no idea-" where did he go-oh!

Henry's helmet was gone now. And he could feel the man's warm breath against his ear. And feel him right behind him. Practically touching. "Oh but I do." When he turned around the man was gone. Henry only had to look back to find him in his original position. "And I can answer them all."

".... There's a catch, isn't there." It wasn't a question. Henry knew he needed to leave through the portal soon, unless he wanted to stay there trapped forever. "What do you want?"

"Smart, Dove. See, that's why I like you. Straight to the point. You know exactly what you want." Oh please, it took him years to settle on a major- "It just wasn't plain to see. Power."

"Power?"

"Power. Fame. Recognition. And everything in between. I can give you it all. All you have to do is shake my hand."

"I shake your hand and I become a pawn for one of your lords, is that right?" Henry eyes him skeptically, but the offer was tempting. After all-

"You know apotheosis is already upon us. Might as well rig the show while there still is one."

Henry stares at the stretched out hand, his own twitching at his side. It was true. He's seen it. Several Its, actually. So many outcomes. So many branching realities. Lost when he woke up. But coming back to the surface the longer he stayed here.

"I..." He reached for his hand, eyes finding bright, apple green. He saw a promise. A promise for power. For the ability to set the pieces wherever he wished and watch them fall. For everything he could ever wish for and... more? More.

Henry wanted so much more than what he'd been given. What he worked for.

And just as he was about to lay his palm down he was yanked back. Something had pulled on his lifeline, sending him stumbling back.

"Henry!" The general shouted behind him, and just as he looked back, to give the stranger one more look, he was gone. "Henry what were you thinking?!"

"No..." Henry had to be dragged back through the portal, kicking and screaming. "No-let me go! Let me-" and then the crying began. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. When he finally stopped resisting McNamara let him sink to the floor, in front of the deactivated portal. And the promises it held.

"You should have let me go." His voice cracked, slumping foward. Black strands of hair fell in his face, obscuring his vision. Not that the tears weren't already doing that. "You should have-" he hiccupped.

A hush fell over the room. An odd tingling sensation ran over him. Similar to walking out into the heat after spending hours in a cold theater. His hair, strand by strand. From root to tip. Began to turn a silvery white.

Needless to say P.E.I.P didn't let him go for a long while after that. They interrogated him. Poked and prodded. Took samples of his hair. Something told Henry he needed them to think he was just slightly unhinged. Just a bit. Just enough to get them to believe he wasn't a threat.

And when they did let him go, they called it 'retirement' and gave him a new identity. And a job as a professor. Just to be safe. So no one would ask questions. He wasn't particularly happy about it. And stormed out of the facility in a huff. During a big storm.

McNamara was right on his heels. "This is just a precaution, Henry-"

"A precaution?! Putting foam on sharp corners in a precaution-this is just-u g h!" Henry threw his hands up, already soaked to the bone. White hair sticking to his face. Damn he needed a haircut. "This is wrong and you know it!"

"You entered the portal without permission-do you know what could have happened if I didn't come back?!" He had to shout just to be heard over the sound of pouring rain.

"This place was like home to me, you know that-and I make one mistake and that's it?! Poof! How fair is that?!"

"I'm trying to convince them to let you back on, I just need you to lay low-"

"Lay low?!" He laughed bitterly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. You couldn't even tell the difference between the rain and his tears. "I'm Henry 'Hidgens' now! What the fuck kind of name is that? And sixty-three?! R e a l l y?! I don't even look that old! Who's going to believe that?!"

He spread his arms out in a wide arc, "You're all going to regret not having me here, just you wait and see. You're going to come crawling to ol' Henry Hidgens, Biology professor at Hatchetfield Community College for help one day and you know what he's going to say? Fuck y-"

Thunder shook the area, lightning lighting up the sky in a crooked arc. And then, in the blink of an eye, Henry was struck.

That's what he got for ranting in the middle of a storm.

Anyways, when he was given the okay to return home he spent months crafting his new life. Hey, if he was going to be given a new identity he might as well have fun with itm and he still had to heal from that lightning strike.

He bore a scar that branched like veins all down across his body. Staring from the left side of his neck, and down to his right ankle. He liked to play up the 'unhinged and questionable professor' bit a lot. And loved to pepper in the very real fact that he'd been struck by lightning.

Hell of a thing to brag about.

It had been nearly half a year now since then. He's settled into his new life nicely. Becoming Hatchetfield's known hermit of a whacky professor.

Lately he'd been having a feeling he was being watched. And sometimes, sometimes, he'd see him. The man he now knew as Wilbur Cross. The agent P.E.I.P had lost. They never told him what actually happened though.

He had just come in from his garden one day when he felt it. That familiar presence.

Henry set his basket of apples down. His aunt and uncle had owned this house before, and planted a nice garden-which had been neglected after their passing, but Henry was tending it now. They had a few apple trees as well. Henry planned on making a pie.

That presence was still there. Bearing over him. He didn't know if he was just being paranoid or hopeful or what. Regardless-he went behind his bar, took up his shotgun, and returned shortly after.

And when he did he froze. Because there he was, sitting on the counter. Eating one of the apples. At first the shock was enough to make his jump and aim right at him-not that it bothered this man to have a gun trained on him.

"Wilbur..." Henry didn't know what he felt exactly when he saw him, but suffice to say he was overwhelmed. He lowered his shotgun.

"Hey there, Dove. Ya miss me-"

"I accept."

"Whoa now-at least let me do the pitch!"

"You already did that, remember? And I accept, on one condition."

Wilbur's brow cocked, "Who said you could make conditions?"

"I did. It's an easy thing, really." He came closer, just as Wilbur hopped down from the counter. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, sliding it over to himself. "Every promise you make to me, you have to keep. And, we seal the deal with a drink."

"You trying to butter me up with booze and apples?"

"The apples are a coincidence."

"A n d you're making demands of me? On top of pulling a g u n on me?.... You know, I think this might be the start of a great partnership. Pass me a shot glass-" he saw Henry pop the lid off the bottle and take a drink with hardly a grimace. His heart would have skipped. If it still beat. "... damn, Dove."

"So, we got a deal or what?"

"First of all, my line." Wilbur grabs the bottle from him, fingers lingering a few seconds too long. "Second, you bet your sweet ass."

They drank together. And thus started their partnership.

[popculturebuffet]

Goof Week: Goofy Birthday Shortstacular!

Hyuck all you happy people! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY GOOFY! The celebration already got on track today with a look at the two part goof troop pilot. You can find that here.  

That review kicked off GOOF WEEK my weeklong look at all things Goofy, but as is tradition on this blog the birthday of one of the big three wouldn’t’t be complete without a look at their theatrical shorts career. And with this one i’ve covered all three of Disney’s biggest stars having covered Donald last june (and will again next month) and Mickey in September so it’s long overdue that my boy gets a shot and even longer overdue I watched some of his classic shorts. 

A large part of why I started doing these is because I love classic theatrical shorts and the reason I love looking at the Disney ones is, unlike Looney Toons or Tom and Jerry, I didn’t grow up with these and Disney never replayed them. At most you’d get one or a small slice of one in a House of Mouse episode. So this is a fun way to dive right into history and see a piece of Disney I’ve only started scratching the surface of. 

This is a fun one too. I ended bumping this up to 12 shorts again, and i’m glad as it allowed me to take a look at some of the weirder stuff and we go all over the place: We have dancing, goofy begging for a smoke, goofy devlopnig a split personality that calls him fat a bunch, a prototypical max who is a LOT, trips to medevil times and cowboy times, a tex avery esque noir short, and the lead in short to National treasure. If any of that sounds like a real good time to you, then keep reading under the cut!

Mickey’s Revue (1933)

Goofy was created by his VA Pinto Colvig, who based the character on the local happy go lucky moron from his home town, and after a dicussion with Walt it was decided to roll him into Mickey’s growing supporting cast. 

My guess from here is they decided to do a dry run to make sure the character worked with audeinces before giving him a full time roll. Given Goofy’s been both a staple of Mickey’s supporting cast and often more popular than the mouse or even the duck, you can see how that went. 

Colvig was awesome. While Bill Farmer is my preferred Goofy, I still tip my hat to the original and it’s clear this was a character he was born t play and it shows: a lot of characters take a short or too to really find their personality. Goofy.. has his early shorts persona straight out of the box> The only weird thing is he’s an ol dman here.. but otherwise his schick here, loudly eating peanuts, laughing a bit too loud and annoying everyone around him with no genuine malice.. that’s Goofy and Pinto really hit onto something and as we’ll see today had a TON of range beyond this. 

As for the rest of the short.. it’s forgetable. It’s not BAD, but it’s just Mickey and friends capering on stage. Nothing really out of the oridnary for these early Mickey Shorts, especially since some of them could get really damn creative.

The Whoopee Party (1933)

Now we have Goofy’s first proper appearance, going from joke character in the crowd to full member of Mickey’s friend group. 

This one is also just okay, but better than the last: Mickey and friends throw a wild party, with Mickey, Goofy and Horace making the sammiches. Goofy dosen’t do much btu gets a good gag or two, and overall it’s alright. Enjoyabl efor it’s lively animation and not much else. 

Goofy and Wilbur (1936) Three years later we get Goofy’s proper debut, a cute short about him using his Cricket friend to fish. That’s not the exestitnal nightmare that it sounds like mind you as Wilbur simply tricks them into Goofy’s net an donly gets eaten when they catch on and Goofy runs to his aid. The short really is more about Wilbur but it’s fair: like with Donald , who was paired with Pluto in his first solo short, they wanted to test the waters before having Goofy carry a cartoon himself. As we’ll see he very well could, but it’s fair to want ot backdor pilot it first and it’s easily one of the best shorts of today’s batch.

How to Play Baseball (1937)

First off while they make a good effort I already know how ot play baseball short...

How To Play Baseball is my faviorite of the Goofy Shorts on Disney Plus, which is a VERY small batch. Especailly since most of Today’s shorts aren’t at all problematic or inapproriate for kids. This one is a gem though. It’s one of the How To Shorts where a narrator goes ove rgoofy trying and failing at an activity though this one’s a tad diffrent. 

 The How To Narrator teaches us about baseball before narrating the world series game. It’s full of cleve slapstick, high speed animation and plain fun. It’s also part of the trend that would dominate Goofy’s sports career of putting him in whatever roll the shorts needed. Here he’s everyone at once, others he’s his old goofy self, other time sh’es just a normal joe. But Colvig does every version amazingly, so it all meshes and that general goofy design is so appealing it just WORKS.  So yeah while i’m not into sports I do genuinely love the How To shorts, as they were my faviorite part of House of Mouse and still are, and the originals are every bit as classic as their reputation says they are. 

A Knight For A Day (1946)

This one is the only other one of these on Disney Plus and it’s decent enough. Nothing incredibble or extra specail: Goofy plays a Squire who has to fil lin for his Knight in a tournament and tries to win a princesses hand against another douchier goofy. Simple stuff iwth some fun gags, but it just dosen’t feel all that fresh, especially since Disney already did a much better shorts with knights with Mickey’s “Ye Olden Days”. It just dosen’t feel as fun or creative as that one was btu on it’s own it’s fine. Nothing great, nothing terrible, just fine. First short of the day to feature Goofy’s faceless blonde love interest who in domestic shorts is his wife and by the same extension Max’s now dead mother. 

Tomorrow We Diet (1951)

We’ve got three from 1951 here. By this point Goofy had traditioned from lovable bumbler to every man, taking on a more generalized personality to fit into every day slice of life scenarios, using those to brilliantly contrast the goofy animated comedy with the more mundane setting it comes from. And sometimes it’s just straight up sticom humor with the ocasoinal joke you could only do in a cartoon.  And sometimes.. you get a version of Goofy who lives in a mirror taunting Goofy over being fat and then trying to keep him on his diet while it’s not clear if thi sis a split personality, a mirror ghost tormenting him that took his form and is doing this so Goofy breaks the mirror and frees him, or his evil doppleganger from another universe. 

Yeah .. one of the centerpieces of this short is Goofy’s reflection/split personality/earth 3 doppleganger/some sort of evil genie taunt shim abotu the fact he’s putting on weight startnig by saying “Hey Fat”... because apparently in this unvierse the best weight joke they can come up with is literally just calling someone fat. I bet I know who rules THIS timeline with an iron fist....

The first half of this short is Goofy being told he’s fat by a bunch of people and the second half is his hallucination/psychotic break/guardian asshole tormenting him with the diet. And I do mean tormenting: He knocks away all of Goofy’s food, then suggests he not even eat his carrot and STARVE himself, which is just deeply unhealthy, and earlier forces Goofy to let him read his book and then tell shim to just diet anyway. Which granted dieting IS sensible.

So yeah this short as you can probably guess by the fact it involves the term “Hey Fat” which was only said by a human being once.. Dick Kinney or Mick Shaffer, the writers of ths short,  when one pitched the line to the other and they laughed for some reason and put it in the script. But with that you can wager this short is REALLY outdated> Overating CAN be a problem and fat shaming still exists, but it’s far less tolerated and far less of a thing.

And hell I can tolerate a good natured weight joke, the Critic had some great ones, especially as a fat guy myself... but this isn’t good natured. The entire joke is, as the man said above HE’S FAT.. So as a legit short. it’s deeply unfunny at best, horribly insulting at worst. But as a so bad it’s good short? it’s GOLD. From the whole mirror goofy thing, to the fact fat is seen as a legit insult here or something to just call fat people because that’s what the writers thoguht humans, even in the 50′s talked like it’s just riffably cruel.. though it will obviously depend onthe viewers tolerance for both fat jokes and how creepy the short can be and again as a short it sucks. As something to be mocked for fun.. it’s fat with potential

Father’s Are People (1951)

Hey Kids you wanna see Max and Goofy reenact Problem Child? 

Given I did Goof Troop earlier this week and i’m finishing this week with A Goofy Movie, it shouldn’t come as a huge shocker that I wanted to cover the first short with Goofy’s son Juinor, who’d later be remolded into Max. 

The short STARTS promising with Goofy having a kid and the hyjinks that comes from having a baby child: Goofy passes out Cigars because Lung Cancer was the preferred way of celebrating having a child in the 50′s, runs himself ragid helping out, which I give the short credit for as “Donald’s Diary” three years later would play a man helping a woman around the house for horror. Here George (Goofy would often go by George Geef in later shorts) pitches in and while he’s clearly exausted he is trying to help with the boy. 

It takes a turn though once we jump ahead to a toddler Junior. Seriously a red head named junior... there’s no way that’s a coincidence. Anyways, the problem is unlike problem child, where Junor dosen’t really go after his dad but the assholes around his pushover dad who genuinely deserve it, this Junior goes after Goofy who at wors tis mildly negelectful but clearly loves his boy> He also DOES try to take a brus hto the kid... but it’s hard to be too mad about that as it was acceptable at the time and he dosen’t actually paddle a three year old. It’s like a less horrfying version of donald puttin ga penguin to a shotguns face in that the targeted party dosen’t see the threat and that goofy isn’t some form of sociopath in this short like Donald was there. It’s just not very funny and only worth watching at all for the historical value. 

No Smoking! (1951) (Patreon Selection by WeirdKev27)

This is my first of two Patreon selections, my patreon is here if you want to chip in a buck to pick a short for Donald’s birthday next month, by longtime friend and backer of the blog Kev. He suggested this one for the sheer absurdity of Goofy smooking.. and was right on the money> This one is DELGITHFUL. 

It works on two levels: it works on the modern level of seeing such an iconic cartoon grapple with trying to quit smoking, first smoknig so constantly a giant cloud appears over him and he has about 80 cigs in his mouth at once, but then trying to quit and being surrounded bycigs before finally DESPERATELY begging for one. As I discovered you really HAVEN’T lived till you’ve heard goofy madly call out “Smoke, smoke gotta have a smoke”. 

But while the novelty IS great.. it’s also just a good cartoon. Outside of some blatant racisim at the start, with a native american sterotype introducing smoking to colmbus which feels so wrong to type I need a shower and really puts a damper on the short which after that.. is just really funny. From the smoking through the ages, to the very creative smoking gags it’s just fun.. and it is CLEARLY anti-smoking, showing both the insane amount of cigrte smoker can go through and how mad the addiction can drive you. It’s not bad... though if you can’t stomach the blatant and terrible racisim.. I get that and it’s fair. 

Two Gun Goofy (1952)

This is one of two “put Goofy in another setting all together” pieces, both in the same year which tells me they were trying to find new stuff to do for Goofy. Thi sisn’t unheard of in cartoons: Around the same time and before Bugs Bunny went all over the world and thorugh time and space, and Mickey went through the looking glass and had two fantasy shorts, so i’ts not unusual

But what IS neat about these next two shorts is they combined the two goofys: he has his goofy demanor and oblivoiusness from the classic shorts, but still has his deeper, slightly less goofy voice from the everyman shorts and is still treated as an average joe, just one now undertaking genre careers, here a cowboy and next a detective

This short is decent. I’m a sucker for cowboy episodes apparently: either old west style showdowns or having the characters go to a dude ranch or something. So naturally I picked this one and was told Max was in it an dhe is... in a two second cameo when Goofy has a thought bubble after meeting faceless lady.

But this is a really enjoyable picture. not Disne’y sbest but good stuff. It also pairs Goofy with pete which really is a perfect pairing, putting our scowling rotund villian against our skinny well meaning hero. And while i’ts a common gag in a lto of things I do love Goofy accidently beating the shit out of pete as the short finds fun ways to do it. All in all worth a watch. 

How to Be a Detective (1952)

This one was a REALLY fun one. Like with westerns i’m a sucker for a good noir parody, even if ironically I haven’t watched much of either genre proper. Add in the fact this is clearly inspiried by Tex Avery’s work and i’m sold on this fun madcap romp with an approraitely more noirsh narrator. 

Goofy is naturally a detective and hired by the faceless woman to find “Al” having to contend with both a goon he keeps failing to recognize and The Chief of Police, played by Pete, who keeps telling him “I told ya to stay off the case Goof!”. It’s just the delivery makes it funny any time he says it as does his instance... and the punchline, which I won’t spoil to both that an dthe overaching mystery i sa gem. This one’s on youtube, seek it out, it’s damn fun. Before I go thoguh I also love how Goofy is Given “Goof Balls”. Yes GOOFY GETS DRUGGED and I am here for it

Father’s Day Out (1953)

I couldn’t find any GIF’s for this one, not even one’s in teh same tag that were unrelated so here, have more smoking Goofy. It will never not be funny.

This one is ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhtastic. Goofy is overworked, wnats to rest on his weeknd, and stuff gets in the way. Oh and halfway through he abrubtly has to take Max to the beach. It’s.. not much honestly. It’s like the simpsons if it wasn’t funny. 

How To Hook Up Your Home Theater (2007) (Emma Fici Patreon Selection)

You may notice the MASSIVE time jump here. That’s because while Disney still does theatrical shorts nowadays, in part because Pixar’s shorts turned out to be a huge hit, they almost never use the classic cast. This delightful anamoly is one of the few exceptions and was picked by Emma out of sheer curosity. And she picked well this short is fun, feelnig like a big budget version of the House of Mouse How To Shorts I loved so an dhaving a modern yet still ultimatley timeless subject: while the tech featured is missin ga streaming box and 4k, otherwise it really has aged incredibly well and getting all the diffrent modes set up and what not is a hassel we al lcan agree with. 

It’s a fun short with lots of good gags and humor as Goofy tries to set up his Home Theater before the big game, and worth a watch. Weirdly not on Disney+ though try explaining that one. 

One final note is for whatever reason this was paired up with National Treasure: Book of Secrets. 

My BEST GUESS i sthat it appeals to the kinds of dads who’d watch National Traesure: Book of Secrets as well as kids since it’s an adventure film. Though it now makes me want to see Nicholas Cage voice goofy. Get on it Disney. Not forever though, Bill’s a treasure. Just for a gag like Don Cheadle vocing Donald.. oh god put them together.. and then have them do a movie together I don’t think they have and do not know why. 

Final Ranking: As a bit of added fun to close this out and as a new feature for these i’m ranking today’s shorts from best to worst How To Be A Detective How To Play Baseball No Smoking Goofy and WIlbur How To Hook Up Your Home Theater Two Gun Goofy The Whoopee Party Mickey’s Revue Tommorow We Diet A Knight for A Day Father’s Are People Father’s Weekend

For the record despite not being a GOOD short Tommorow we diet is at least intresting, hence i’ts ranknig while Father’s weekend is just a boring 50′s version of problem child. Fathers are People at least has some good gags to set it off. 

So thank you for reading and if you liked this review give it a like and consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As a patron you’d get access to exclusive reviews, the patreon’s discord and to pick a short each time I do one of these shortstaculars. Donald’s comnig next month and the deadline is in only a few days to join up for said month so the clock is ticking. Even a dollar a month helps me reach my stretch goals so please i fyou can sign up today and if not, I understand and i’ll see you at the next rainbow

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

First part

Harmless Playing

Pairings: Archie x Malon x Justin(not romantic, evidently),side the Voorheese’s family(MJ and Jason) and Archie’s(Pennywise and Aquarius)

Warnings: some kiddies talks, angst, gore and decay, description of decay smell and decomposition(kinda goes in gore but i'm not taking chances), plain horror, guilt

This is kinda dark l: hehe-

I always can't help myself, I love me some good ol' angst and horror

(There is a reference to the story of when MJ was bitten by a snake.)

Don't hesitate to tell me any mistakes I made! It would be greatly appreciated.

-

When Archie and Justin came back the next day, the two of them and Malon (The Friendly Trio :D) discussed and played in the clubhouse, like normal kids do. Yesterday was nice, Archie would say definitely say that, but for the rest of the day he felt bad for his first friend, correction: best friend. He knew she didn't have the same interests as them, but it didn't seem like Justin did, at least yesterday. He was so captivated by the insects that Archie didn't know if he thought about what he said or about how they left Malon. He remembered the thing about how he said he was his only friend and knew it wasn't to be mean or anything, but he knew too that Malon would probably be sad if she paid attention and heard it. So that's why the small clown payed more attention to his female friend, still paying attention to Justin though. Strangely but fortunately, when they seemed to be getting more and more into the bugs' subject, Justin stole some glances at Malon and changed the subject, making the small girl smile thankfully. The first time it surprised Archie, but he was really happy about it because he wouldn't have to talk to Justin about it. Maybe he saw how their interests differs after all...

It was almost dinner and MJ looked through the window, seeing the three friends running around with smiles and laughing faces. A worrying look immediately came onto the woman's face as she put the plate she was washing onto the counter, drying her hands before opening the window. It was cute and all that they were happily playing and that her daughter didn't seem sad anymore, but the woods were pretty dangerous and they didn't really have a clear spot around the clubhouse, which made the situation even more dangerous and kind of stressful for her. Leaning towards the now opened window with a small smile but furrowed brows as she heard the laughters, MJ yelled out to them; ''Be careful, kids! If you're playing around like that, it would be better if you were somewhere I can see you. '' They looked back at MJ before nodding, Malon yells back an ''Okay mom! '' before they move towards an empty spot where there was the fire pit Malon and her parents used to make fires. Archie and Justin sat on each side of Malon on the wooden chairs that were around the pit and calmed down, deciding that they would continue their conversations they had earlier. Seeing them sit down, the older woman closed the window as she felt the wind entering, looking back one more time before she continued to do the dishes and occupied herself before her husband came home.

--

''You really don't have a TV??'' ''You have been into my house, you know I don't, silly!'' Malon and Justin were currently talking about her not having a tv and about how she missed a lot of things that were on the screen, from what Justin and Archie told her. The latter was just listening to them since he didn't know what to say, so he contented himself to listening.

They started to talk about cartoons though, which finally made Archie talk. ''You two should come to my house sometime, we could watch some! '' The Friendly Trio smiled, the three still talking as the mood was soft and joyful. ''So-'' ​There was a sharp silence as the wind picked up and they were suddenly attacked by a strong smell, which wasn't pleasant at all. The kids whimpered and got up as they smelt the air as it carried the smell towards them. It was like rotten meat and eggs with a hint of sickly sweet smell that didn't reassure them at all. Imagine rotten meat ang fruits plus a hint of really sweet perfume. ''What is that??!! Ewww!-'' Justin said as he looked around with his eyes wide opened and his brows furrowed. Malon was looking pale as she backed away a little from the pit, her eyes looking into the distance. For Archie though, a small panic entered him. He knew this smell was probably bad, he wasn't stupid. Strangely, it seemed kind of familiar too... While his friends mumbled and whimpered, nobody moving, a lot of ungodly guesses took place into his head as he followed the smell, making the two behind him curiously follow him. It wasn't the brightest idea, but you can't help the mischief of a child's curiosity..

The farther they went, the more the smell turned terrible, which (sadly) almost made them go back. ''I think... I think it's here-''

Every noises stopped as he did.

As soon as his eyes landed on the disfigured and decaying, but still bloody, corpse of what looked like a woman, he knew he had been right from the start. That's why the smell was familiar... Without helping himself, his scared and disgusted gaze moved up and down the body, noting all the small insects crawling in and out of her now rotten and lifeless figure. Archie's first reflex was to turn around, engulfing his friends as he told them to go back now and not look.Only for them to do that.Justin was the first to scream, barfing on the ground two seconds later. He immediately ran towards the house, alerting some animals and someone who was fortunately nearby; Jason. When he then heard Malon screaming, he immediately ran as fast as he could towards the noise, his machete at the ready and his eyes wide open. The noises he made as he ran towards them alerted Archie, who fearfully hid Malon behind him, thinking it might be the person or thing that killed that woman.

However, it was Jason who literally ran towards them, his head moving back and forth as he tried to search for the source of what made Malon scream. As soon as his eyes fell onto the corpse, he stopped in his tracks and went slowly towards a really scared Archie and Malon and took Malon in his arms, hugging her tightly as he let Archie hug him, a hand on his back. The scared whimpers and sniffles made him take Archie in his arms too, balancing the too kids in his arms as he walked towards the cabin, seeing MJ running towards them at full speed with a scared and teary-eyed Justin behind her. Her motherly instincts immediately told her something was wrong as soon as she didn’t saw them playing outside, even more when she saw Justin running here with tears streaming down his face.

The poor boy couldn’t even form words, the image of what he had seen still in his mind. So MJ had tried to calm him, hugging him and letting him cry on her shoulder as her worry increased for Archie and her daughter. That’s why as soon as he could form words and said that there was a body, she ran towards the way he showed her with him at her trail.

“Malon????” Jason put Malon down as he almost heard his wife screeching and she took her, the little girl still crying and shaking. Archie cuddled closer to Jason as he now had the two of his arms to cradle him in. The two adults, and Justin, walked towards the house and put the two crying kids on the couch, the two having now a little bit calmed. As soon as they seemed calm enough, Jason cradling Archie and Malon close to him and they cling onto his jacket, MJ asked them to tell her what happened, a frown on her face as she hugged Justin close. “We smelt something... funny... and we... w-we found a... a dead body.......” Jason held them close as Archie sniffled, putting his head back onto Jason’s chest. The boy had evidently seen dead bodies, but none at this stage of decomposition, which is why he was probably now in shock. Malon had never even thought she would see something like this, even if she knew her father killed people. And for poor Justin... Well, let’s just say he was probably traumatized.

—

After MJ had gotten Justin home safely and Archie decided that he wanted to stay with Malon, Jason decided that he would get rid of the corpse while his wife called Archie’s parents. He was absolutely shocked when he saw the body, it not being his because he remembered the person who killed them. Michael. F ing Micheal Myers.

His eyes travelled all over the woman’s body as he noticed some broken ribs and noticeable stab wounds where there was still skin. There was evidently the blonde hair, which made him remember of that day when he had to look for plants to help MJ.

(Flashback kinda-

Michael seemed concentrated, his eyes focused on a whimpering woman who seems to be limping and coming this way, making Jason’s body tense. It was probably why Michael was so silent and seemed to be stalking something when he saw him earlier, so he decided not to interfere, watching him stalking away. Guess he didn’t have anybody to help him then .. As the screams of the girl could finally be heard, Jason walked towards where the last item was, his steps hurried and bigger than normal. He really hoped he wasn’t too late...)

The undead man shook his head, trying not to think of that day as he looked at the woman’s broken leg, the source of her limping that day. Without hesitation, he took the body in his arms and tried not to breath it’s disgusting smell as he walked towards a clear place where he could bury it. He didn’t know how to get rid of it, so it was an idea. His daughter and wife would probably approve of this method too, since it’s more humane.

Guilt filled him as soon as he finished digging a hole, the shovel he took from the small homemade shed they keep MJ’s gardening tools in stuck in the ground. He pushed the body down the hole, his jacket now smelling of dead body juices (ew idk how it’s called) and making him almost throw up, which is the reason why he decided to put it in the hole too, his bare arms revealed to the world as he immediately started to put the dirt back in. Each time he put a shovel of dirt his guilt grew bigger and bigger, thoughts swirling in his head. He should have made sure to come back that day, so he could have made sure Micheal had gotten rid of the body, which he obviously didn’t do.

Now was too late anyway, so as soon as he got home, he put the shovel back where it belonged and looked at the two sleeping kids on the ground, a small smile on his face even if he was still thinking about the body. Archie and Malon were cuddled together, blankets and pillows on the carpeted floor of the living room as a small night light illuminated the room a bit with his daughter’s favourite colour. Jason didn’t know how those two could get along so good, but he was really happy about it. He couldn’t imagine Malon having her parents for friends, which saddened him even more than he was thinking about it. He silently and carefully got out of his boots and washed his hands that were still covered in dead body fluids before he got into his PJs and into bed with his peacefully sleeping wife, wrapping an arm around her protectively like always. This life wasn’t one he wanted his kid, or any children, to live in, but he couldn’t do anything about it except his job of protecting them and getting rid of trespassers...

He hoped he could do more than that one day.

[jafndaegur]

Noise of Rain | Chapter Six

Light the Fire Here to Find Your Answer

Sesskag

a/n: starting to get into the thick of things...

Kikyo's fingers skimmed over the plain of her belly…it was barely curved, hardly a swell. Yet despite the lack of visibility, she knew a creature grew inside of her, one that she hardly wanted or desired. But Inuyasha practically beamed with the idea of its existence—and it kept his focus diverted most days from the annoyance that called herself the Edo Matriarch. So she was grateful at least for her child's immediate usefulness. Once it was birthed, who knew.

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to attend as well?” Her voice was even and she realized there was hardly any concern in her tone. She knew that her lover required affection and often she tried to provide it. Falling short and yet not ever really caring.

Inuyasha kissed the top of her head. “Nah, it’s just going to be a boring old summit with a couple ol’ coots. But since they’re outlying shoguns, it might be a good idea to see what they have to say. Besides, weren’t ya going to check the village’s barrier today?”

“I was going to, however I do not wish for anything awry happening with your meeting. It’s unlike you to go out of your way for such things.”

“Keh,” he scratched his nose bashfully. “If I wanna stand equal with the village priestess, then I gotta step up my game.”

“Yes well, keep trying,” Kikyo muttered, donning outer garments to wear over her miko garb. Early winter loomed on the proverbial doorstep, ready to worsen itself on any moment. And despite the increasing weight on her body, the chill seemed to seep through her skin even more than usual. She let out a sigh and turned to look at Inuyasha.

The half-demon regarded her with a twisted gaze, something torn between a laugh and hurt. Rolling her eyes, she gave his suikan a light tug before gracing his cheek with an even lighter kiss. “Be careful then.” Kikyo hummed, before leaving their hut.

It wasn’t as if she disregarded him or held him in little regards. It was also never her intention to be straight out brusque with him. But something since she became human had clicked for her. For while she no longer desired (completely at least) to drag him to the pits of the underworld with her, something relished the sad little looks or the panged winces he would make whenever she was curt. And it was something she enjoyed seeing him chase after her to make up for each little sting. Because it meant that he was moving on and away from his friendship with Kagome. She knew that as long as the two of them were alive, one or the other would always be vying for the hanyou’s attention. While both types were in two different ways - Kagome seemed to be content in her companionship and Kikyo herself wanting to be the subject of Inyuasha’s obsession, she found it amusing that she wound the half-demon further and further around her little finger. Soon enough, with the birth of their child, there would not be enough room left for the little priestess who threw herself off the deep end. Another use for the babe that had yet to be. Perhaps before it was even born, it would have proven its worth.

 ---

Inuyasha waited with baited breath for Kikyo to leave his scent range. His chest heaved painfully and he tried to not focus on her small jab. Had it been Kagome, it might have been a playful joke followed by an elbow to his side. Nothing more than a quip. 

But the words from his lover always hurt in a way that he didn’t expect.

It didn’t matter. He’d lied about the meeting. But it was still time to go if he wanted to be back by nightfall.

Moving on and forcing himself not to dwell on it, Inuyasha took a tentative step before leaving the village. His feet ran over forest floor and grass and leaves and the world around him slipped by so easily and so quickly. Eagerness flooded his nerves and suddenly he wondered if he would get caught. Not that Kikyo followed him anywhere he went. But she always seemed to know what he was up to. Not that he cared. Again. He was his own damn person, and dammit he was going to go see his best friend regardless of whether or not Kikyo told him to stay away. 

It’d been months since he’d seen Kagome. Summer had just been dying away when she’d disappeared, and fall just born when she reappeared. After that he hadn’t seen her since she’d stormed from the restaurant, his half-brother in tow. 

His frown pulled tight and a growl formed in his chest. 

Every time he’d seen Kagome since her change, Sesshomaru had always seemed to follow in her footsteps like a ghost. The guy acting like a damn lost puppy or something like that. He’d hoped that it had stopped. Nothing good ever came of hanging out with a demon like his brother. 

The mountains where the Burial Mounds towered close now. Their stiff and pointed peaks were coated in snow and he gave an involuntary shiver. It hadn’t snowed yet on the normal earth, despite how cold it had gotten. He wondered if Kagome and the others were safe and warm. It was hard to find protection from the cold up that high. Not much foliage for kindling grew up that far into the terrain, and coming down to bargain for food made traveling difficult. With Miroku up there, he knew that there was a small chance that they were eating well and at least finding enough jobs to feed everyone. But rumor had it that Kagome had more than just her friends up there. Word was from all around demons and half-demons alike had found shelter within the small settlement at the peaks. Last thing he’d heard was there were some seventy to one hundred people up there under her protection. They’d called her the Edo Matriarch, saying how she’d founded her own clan reminiscent of the ones of old. 

He couldn’t imagine it. The gangly, squawky girl who rode her bike around the countryside for kicks seemed a far cry from the demonic and intimidating village matron that townspeople surmised her to be. Yet the last time he’d seen her...enraged eyes and lashing evil aura.

Inuyasha steeled himself. 

He would see her for sure and he would discover the truth behind whatever transformations she underwent. Unsure if he could bring the real Kagome back or not, he would try. Her happiness meant the world to him, and the image that kept repeating itself on loop in his mind was just how sunken and how exhausted she had seemed. Resorting to this “demonic cultivation” as she called it was doing more harm than good. He needed to know why she felt so inclined to keep practicing this dark art. She was a miko for fuck’s sake, was being a priestess not enough for her?

He approached the trail most traveled in the mountains. Right away he could detect everyone’s scents. Miroku and Sango’s, Shippo’s, Kaede’s...Kagome’s. 

A nostalgic twinge pulled through his chest and urged him to run faster. It felt as though he were coming home for the first time in a long time. His breath quickened and his eyes widened. He was scared and excited - would he be welcomed or would he be pushed away? 

Bursting out into the small valley before the village, his mood quickly darkened.

Sesshomaru lounged on one of the village huts, his arm draped over a propped up knee as he kept surveillance over Rin and Shippo playing with a few other demon children in the snow. Sango and Miroku were there too, chopping wood as they watched the children as well. They were the first to announce his arrival - he was sure his stupid brother was the first to detect him - and they did so with smiles and several waves.

Much to his relief, his brother continued to ignore him. And as much as he would like to whoop the older demon’s ass there and now, he was not the goal of his mission. His sole purpose was to visit -

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome.

Her voice bounced off of the snow and into the air like bells. She emerged from the hut Sesshomaru currently safeguarded, and waved. She pulled a heavy charcoal haori over her shoulders, shuffling quickly over to him with a wide grin. He wanted to cringe away, her scent reeked of his brother. But he noticed with a little touch of pain, that she looked healthier. Her skin wasn’t so jaundiced, and her cheeks and eyes were not so sunken. Her clothes weren’t so baggy on her small frame, and it looked like she’d finally figured out how to tie her robe properly…

His gaze went quickly from her to his brother and back. The daiyoukai continued to evade his observation, and merely laid back on the roof of the hovel and closed his eyes. How arrogant that stupid prick! 

Kagome rushed him in a barreling hug that forced all thoughts from his mind. Her scent flooded with happiness and her arms circled him tightly. All else was forgotten as he buried his face in the crown of her hair.

“Sorry I hadn’t come to visit ya yet,” he mumbled. 

“Miroku said you and Kikyo were heads of the village now,” she whispered back. “I imagine that’s pretty busy.”

“Formalities ain’t my strong suit,” he huffed. “Just keepin’ an eye on things while Kikyo does all the official priestess stuff.”

She didn’t answer to that, and he internally kicked himself for mentioning her. 

Recovering quickly, Kagome grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the little hut she’d come from. “Here, let’s go in. It’s cold! There’s some leftover soup that I have on the fire, you want some?”

“Sure Kags...that’d be great,” he hummed with a faint and fond smile. He allowed her to tug him along. Nothing else existed as he followed her wake into the hut. 

He sat down obediently by the fire, as she rummaged around what he presumed was a common eating hall. There were lots of tables with the fire pit at the center. It was such an odd idea, to have a place where everyone of this village could dine together - but with Kagome as the leader, all of that somehow suited her. It was homey. 

“It’s boar and lotus soup, I hope you don’t mind,” she chirped, serving him a bowl. “We have lotus to eat for centuries because of Sesshomaru, and the other day he and a few other demons caught a herd of boars that were roaming around -”

“Hold on,” Inuyasha didn’t mean to interrupt really. “My half-brother? The walking Ice Prick?”

“Don’t be rude.” She gently cuffed him on the back of the head. “He doesn’t stay long...but he helps out a lot whenever he comes. I guess this is his pitstop between his travels.” 

“A likely story,” he growled. “He’s using you for something.”

“Wow, you just got here and you’re already picking a fight,” rubbing her temples she let out a sigh. “Look can’t you accept he’s doing something nice for us? Even if he is using me for some bizarre reason - we’re getting food and protection out of it. So at worse it’s some symbiotic relationship, okay? We’re fine and he’s fine. Let’s leave it at that.”

“If you hadn’t left, you wouldn’t need to be relying on him to protect ya Kagome.”

He really didn’t mean to dive right into the problem either. His whole intention of this visit had to just be there with her. Nature really knew how to force its ugly head into his personality though - and his nature had always been brazen and confrontational.

“I had to leave.” Her voice lowered and her brows furrowed with anger. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You up and left in the middle of the night!” Inuyasha raised his voice before he could catch himself. “You didn’t even give us a chance to help you with whatever happened.”

“Did you ever think that I didn’t mean to leave?” She shouted back, her hand swiping through the air.

He pulled his soup out of the way so she wouldn’t knock it over. “Then why didn’t you come back? Three months! Three whole months you disappeared no matter how hard we looked. And when Kikyo came back human and whole - do you have any idea of what we thought?”

“I’m sure you were absolutely overjoyed,” she snarled, eyes flashing crimson. “You wanna judge me for the company I keep? Look who’s talking - she literally tried to drag your stupid butt to hell.” 

“This is not about her.” His stood, standing toe to toe with the angry girl. “Leave her outta this.”

“It’s always about her!” Kagome snapped. There was a flash of resentful energy and then suddenly she was fuming. Her hair whipped by the torrent of evil aura radiating from her while her eyes glowed that eerie vermillion color. Her hand flew to her chest and gripped her robe painfully as her breathing heaved. “It’s always about her. Who do I look like? Kikyo. Who do you always chase after? Kikyo!”

“That’s not fair, I’m right here now aren’t I?” He shook her shoulders, his pulse quickening. 

There was a thump on the roof.

“And even now,” there were tears in her eyes and the resentful energy lashed, throwing tables and dispelling the fire and knocking the pot of soup over. “When my priestess powers are gone and the core of which my reiki was stored all dismantled and transferred through our connection of souls to Kikyo just so my powers could protect itself from the resentful energy. It’s. All. Still. About. Her.”

Inuyasha stilled. Maybe he had misheard. “What?”

“Yeah funny thing,” she laughed now, her tears leaking into her mouth as her croaking giggles came out. “That thing were qi and reiki are stored? That connects all your meridians? I don’t have it anymore. Kikyo does.”

His throat ran dry. He didn’t understand. Powers beyond punching and slashing really ran over his head.

A strong grip grabbed him by the collar and flung him back. Sesshomaru now stood as a solid white wall between him and the growing torment that was Kagome. His brother’s fangs flashed and his eyes bled red. Leave.

Stumbling back, Inuyasha realized this visit had not gone how he’d wanted. As he fled, Kagome’s cries and Miroku’s and Sango’s startled yells echoed in his ears. His feet ran over mountain floor, and dirt road, and the earth underneath him sailed. Yet everything was pale and devoid of color. Time seemed sluggish and broken. 

He left everything behind him.