#if someone has recommendations of good black romance books I would love to hear them!!

[inkovert]

I was recently talking to someone about writing stories out of spite (s/o to @pertinax--loculos), and though the urge to do that has arisen within me multiple times, I've never actually acted on it.

But Ooo this one might just push me over the edge. I'm talking about the lack of strong black contemporary romance books (by black romance I mean black love, not a black person dating outside of their race which the shelves are already saturated with). I just had to DNF a black romance book I picked up for light reading because I could not for the life of me understand why the two romantic leads even liked each other...and they were a divorced couple that had been married for 10+ years. And I'm seeing this crop up more and more, where black romance books may deliver good characterization or good dialogue or strong themes but completely fall short on the romance - aka the literal point of the book.

and its just so unfortunate to see bc. there's already just so little representation of black love not just in media but in the world in general. And it's just sorely needed. So idk, I just got so angry ranting to a friend of mine that I was like Shit I will write this myself if I have to!! Idk if I will follow through on it but if I am mad enough I just might.

[etoilesombre]

Hey, do you guys want to hear a story? Let me tell you about the romance between Lancelot and Guinevere, as recounted in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.

So, I thought I knew the basics. I grew up reading modern versions of Arthurian legend that focused on other aspects, but had a general knowledge of the Arthur-Guinever-Lancelot love triangle. It didn't show up too much, but I assumed it was subtext in some other versions. What I picked up was that it was sort of pure, almost an ot3, and not the cause of a lot of problems. 

My friends. In this version it is NOT SUBTEXT, it DEFINITELY CAUSED PROBLEMS, and it is WILD. It is a true will-they-won't-they drama fest soap opera romance, and I need to share. So please, come on this journey with me.

[I’m looking at you, Black Sails fandom people. I need you to know that Flint canonically would have read this. He would almost certainly have also grown up hearing these stories. I’m not saying he’s Lancelot coded, but I am saying it's interesting that he would have been aware that was something it was possible to be.]

A couple notes, before we dive in. I am very much just summarizing what happened in the book. The thing is, the book is a million pages long and also in Middle English, and this is just one of many plots, which I think is why it's not more widely known. I will show some excerpts so you can get a feel for the text, but you don’t need to read them to understand the story. I'm referring to a version that is as close to the manuscript as I can find, though with spelling regularized. For real fun, see what the original looked like. Malory purports to be translating part of the French Vulgate cycle, which likely is where the character of Lancelot originates, but in fact he is doing much more than translating, and compiles other stories as well. Point being, when he says “so the French book sayeth” etc, that is the “book” to which he is referring. Because of my lack of knowledge about the language and cultural context, this lecture series from Mythgard Academy was absolutely invaluable to my understanding. I cannot recommend it highly enough. Inevitably, some of the opinions of the prof are reflected here. I do not have it in me to compare the scholarship of various medievalists right now, I just want to tell you about this DRAMA. 

Let’s start with a prophecy. When Arthur decides he wishes to marry Guinevere, Merlin advises him to take someone else, because if he takes her, she will betray him with Lancelot and it will destroy his kingdom. All of this is foretold, not only to us, but to Arthur himself. Of course he takes her anyway, and all is doomed from the start.

As we begin the main arc of this story (several books after the prophecy), Lancelot is widely acknowledged to be the best and most renowned knight of Arthur’s court. He is plainly and hopelessly in love with Guinevere, and she loves him in return. Arthur doesn’t have a problem with this - who wouldn’t love Guinevere? This sort of love is socially acceptable, so long as they do not sleep together, which would be treason. Arthur in fact seems to support their love, because it means that Lancelot will be Guinevere’s champion should she need one. This is a role Arthur himself legally cannot fill because he is the king, and so would have to be the judge. Lancelot is indeed a good champion for her, and fights for her when she is wrongly accused of murder. 

Lancelot is deeply chivalrous, in a way that seems sincere. This is a great place for a first excerpt, a conversation with a Random Damsel Lancelot has been helping:

‘Now, damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye any more service of me?’ ‘Nay, sir,’ she said, ‘at this time, but almighty Jesu preserve you wheresoever ye ride or go, for the most courteous knight thou art and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing, sir knight, me thinks ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner of degree, and that is great pity. But it is noised that ye love Queen Guenivere, and that she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love no other but her, nor no other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore there be many in this land of high estate and low that make great sorrow.’ ‘Fair damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I may not warn* people to speak of me what it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for then I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say to take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse, in principal for dread of God. For knights that be adventurous should not be adulterers nor lecherous, for then they be not happy nor fortunate unto the wars; for either they shall be overcome with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall slay by unhap and their cursedness better men than they be themselves. And so who that useth paramours shall be unhappy, and all thing unhappy that is about them.’ 

So after doing his Knightly Deeds for this damsel, Lancelot asks if she needs anything else. She says no, but you are lacking one thing, which is the love of a woman. It is rumored that is because Guinevere has through sorcery made you love only her, and that causes all of the women great sorrow. In reply Lancelot makes this speech about how he cannot have a wife or paramour and be a good knight, but everyone thinks it is at least in part because his love is reserved for Guinevere.

Now, throughout the book his chastity DOES notably cause all of the women great sorrow. Everyone wants to sleep with Lancelot. Literally he is kidnapped by the four most beautiful queens other than Guinevere, and they say he has to choose one of them as a lover (not even a wife, a lover) or else die. He says he would rather die, though in the end he escapes. This is just an example, truly it is a recurring problem for him. He is, at one point, tricked into sleeping with a woman with whom he conceives his son Galahad (as was prophesied, it's a long story and the romance is only part of it. It is worth mentioning that something similar happens to Arthur, which is how Mordred is sired.) When Guinevere learns that Lancelot has been with someone else, she is angry and banishes him from the court. They still love each other and eventually reconcile. 

So, Lancelot goes on the quest for the holy grail. But he fails, specifically because while he is outwardly dedicated to God, in his private heart he is still dedicated to Guinevere. And so he makes a vow to renounce his love for her, acknowledging that it is beyond measure (beyond what is right, even if they have not technically done anything wrong.) However when he returns to Camelot, he cannot keep this vow, as we see. 

Then, as the book saith, Sir Lancelot began to resort unto Queen Guenivere again, and forgot the promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Lancelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the Queen as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sangrail, but ever his thoughts were privily on the Queen. And so they loved together more hotter than they did beforehand, and had many such privy draughts together that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain’s brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it befell that Sir Lancelot had many resorts of ladies and damosels that daily resorted unto him to be their champion: in all such matters of right Sir Lancelot applied him daily to do for the pleasure of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might he withdrew him from the company of Queen Guenivere for to eschew the slander and noise, wherefore the Queen waxed wroth with Sir Lancelot.

He and Guinevere start spending a lot of time alone together, and so there are rumors circulating about them in court. In order to put a stop to the rumors, Lancelot starts paying other women attention and doing more good knightly deeds for them. Guinevere is terribly jealous, but he tells her it's for their own good, and also tells her about the vow he made, and his concern that their love is beyond what is appropriate. She is devastated, and weeping banishes him from the court (again). 

Lancelot then rides in a tournament, disguised. (Why? Because this is simply a thing knights do.) To make it an effective disguise he takes the token of a woman, the sleeve of the fair maid of Astolat to wear on his helm. When she discovers that he was only using it for the disguise, and he does not indeed love her, she is so heartbroken that she says if he will not marry her or be her lover, she will die. He refuses, on the grounds that love must not be constrained and should arise from the heart, and offers her a thousand pounds a year instead if she marries anyone else. Properly insulted by this, she does indeed die. She has her body sent in a boat to Camelot, with a letter in her hand, saying that she died of her love for him, that he would not return. 

Seeing this, Guinevere reconciles with Lancelot, presumably reassured by the fact that he would let this very beautiful much younger woman die of her love rather than being with her. She insists that from now on he will not fight in disguise, and will openly bear her token. 

Then Queen Guenivere sent for Sir Lancelot, and said thus: ‘I warn you that ye ride no more in no jousts nor tournaments but that your kinsmen may know you; and at these jousts that shall be ye shall have of me a sleeve of gold. And I pray you for my sake to force* yourself there, that men may speak you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon your helmet.’ ‘Madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘it shall be done.’ And either made great joy of other.

It is important to keep in mind that, to this point, there is no textual evidence that they were sleeping together, and a great deal of evidence that it was important to Lancelot that they not cross that line. There is much less evidence that this is important to Guinevere.

So then one fateful day in May, Guinevere goes picnicing with an entourage of knights. They are captured by someone else who is in love with Guinevere, and taken back to his castle, but she manages to send a message to Lancelot. At the castle, she insists that her knights sleep in her bedchamber on the grounds that they were wounded in the battle when she was captured and need tending, but truly she wants them there to keep her captor from raping her. 

Lancelot arrives to rescue her, and the person who kidnapped her agrees to give her back in the morning. She tells Lancelot to visit her room in the night. He climbs up to her window, which is barred. They have a heartfelt reunion and she says she wishes he could come in to her. He acquiesces and breaks the bars to get into her room, cutting his hand to the bone to do so. Despite the profusely bleeding wound and the ten other men sleeping in the room, they at last do sleep together, in this passionate blood covered consummation. He sneaks back out and replaces the bars.

In the morning, the man who kidnapped Guinevere comes in and sees blood all over the bed. He accuses her of being unfaithful to the king, saying she lay with one of the knights who had been sleeping in her room. She denies it, but it is very clear that she did sleep with someone who was bleeding. 

Lancelot says he will fight to defend her from this accusation, which is right and proper because he is her champion. In this story people take trial by combat and oaths before God very seriously, especially Lancelot. He really does try. So he swears an oath that he will prove with his life that Guinevere did not sleep with one of the wounded knights who lay in her room. This of course is TRUE, but only on a technicality. Lancelot, having slept with her himself the night before, is also the one who defends her honor after. I love this story so much. 

Instead of fighting him, the kidnapper takes Lancelot captive. In captivity he encounters ANOTHER damsel who insists that sleep with her in order for her to help him. He refuses, still faithful in his heart to Guinevere. Eventually she settles for him holding and kissing her, which is not across the line of appropriateness apparently, giving us some idea of where that line is drawn. Anyway, Lancelot gets out, fights for Guinevere and wins. There are indications that he feels like he barely dodged a devine bullet. 

Guinevere and Lancelot return to Camelot. Finally the rumors about them are true, the deed has been done, but of course nothing appears particularly different as there were already rumors about them. Two knights, Mordred and Agravaine, who have been intriguing against Arthur already, go and tell Arthur that Guinevere is being untrue to him. Here is his response: 

‘If it be so,’ said the King, ‘wit you well, he is none other; but I would be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs of it. For Sir Lancelot is a hardy knight, and all ye know that he is the best knight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him. Therefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would that he were taken with the deed.’ For as the French book saith, the King was full loath that such a noise should be upon Sir Lancelot and his queen. For the King had a deeming of it; but he would not hear thereof, for Sir Lancelot had done so much for him and for the Queen so many times that, wit you well, the King loved him passingly well.

Arthur says he will not hear of this without proof, because if Lancelot is accused and allowed to fight he would beat anyone. And, it is said that Arthur had some idea of the affair, but would not credit it because Lancelot had done so much for him and Guinevere, and he loved Lancelot greatly. 

So, one night when the king is away hunting, the two accusers contrive to catch them in the act, with a group of twelve armed knights. They do find Lancelot in Guinevere’s chamber, but the text is notably, pointedly vague about whether they are actually in bed. In any case, Lancelot asks for a trial. The knights say no, they have caught him and so may kill him. He is Lancelot, so he kills all of them instead, save one (Mordred) whom he leaves wounded. Lancelot flees, intending to return to rescue Guinevere and take her to his own castle to protect her from Arthur’s wrath. He maintains her innocence, and still intends that they will all reconcile.

Guinevere is to be burned at the stake (normal in this situation). Lancelot rescues her from the burning at the last moment, killing a number of knights of the round table. Arthur seems to blame the accusers more than Guinevere and Lancelot (for good reason; keep in mind that the romance is a subplot, there is a great deal of political intrigue going on.) Now a war will begin, whether anyone wants it or not, because of the people Lancelot killed. Lancelot takes Guinevere to his own castle. Battle lines are drawn, and Lancelot and Arthur confront each other in the fighting:

And ever was King Arthur about Sir Lancelot to have slain him, and ever Sir Lancelot suffered him and would not strike again. So Sir Bors encountered with King Arthur; and Sir Bors smote him, and so he alit and drew his sword and said to Sir Lancelot, ‘Sir, shall I make an end of this war?’—for he meant to have slain him. ‘Not so hardy,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘upon pain of thy head, that thou touch him no more! For I will never see that most noble king that made me knight neither slain nor shamed.’ And therewith Sir Lancelot alit off his horse and took up the King and horsed him again, and said thus: ‘My lord the king, for God’s love, stint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do my utterance. But always I forbear you, and ye nor none of yours forbear not me. And therefore, my lord, I pray you remember what I have done in many places, and now am I evil rewarded.’ So when King Arthur was on horseback he looked on Sir Lancelot; then the tears burst out of his eyes, thinking of the great courtesy that was in Sir Lancelot more than in any other man. And therewith the King rode his way and might no longer behold him, saying to himself, ‘Alas, alas, that yet this war began!’

So Arthur tries to slay Lancelot, but Lancelot, the better fighter, refuses to slay him and indeed when Arthur is unhorsed Lancelot forbids that he be slain, and gives him his own horse. Arthur weeps for the honor that is in Lancelot, and laments that the war began. 

The pope intervenes and tries to negotiate an end. Lancelot confirms that he is willing to return Guinevere to Arthur, and says he has always been willing to do this and will still defend her honor, but that he does not feel he can do so because Arthur has listened to liars and been misled, and he had more reason to take her away than the accusation of adultery - he does not trust she can be safe in that court, with things as they are. 

Eventually they do make a deal, with some assurances, and he surrenders Guinevere to the king. He kisses her openly, says that he will leave, but should she be in danger or ever again accused of being untrue, he will fight for her as he always has. He departs the court forever, to much great sorrow, and returns to his own lands. 

The war continues - eventually Mordred seizes the throne, Arthur kills him in battle but is mortally wounded himself and passes to Avalon. Following the king’s death, although her love would no longer be adulterous, Guinevere retires to a convent rather than reuniting with Lancelot. He seeks her out, and this is her reaction: 

Sir Lancelot was brought before her; then the Queen said to all those ladies, ‘Through this same man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul health; and yet I trust through God’s grace and through His Passion of His wounds wide, that after my death I may have a sight of the blessed face of Christ Jesu, and at Doomsday to sit on His right side;* for as sinful as ever I was, now are saints in heaven. And therefore, Sir Lancelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me no more in the visage. And I command thee, on God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company; and to thy kingdom look thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, my heart will not serve now to see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. And therefore go thou to thy realm, and there take ye a wife and live with her with joy and bliss. And I pray thee heartily to pray for me to the everlasting Lord that I may amend my misliving.’ ‘Now, my sweet madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘would ye that I should turn again unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well, that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false unto you of that I have promised. But the self* destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me to, for the pleasure of Jesu; and ever for you I cast me specially to pray.

Rather than rejoicing in Lancelot’s presence, Guinevere laments that their love brought about the downfall of the Arthurian court, and the deaths of the knights of the round table and King Arthur. She calls upon Lancelot, by all the love that was ever between them to leave her presence, telling him to marry someone else if he wishes and see her no more. Lancelot replies that he wants no one else, and that he will respect her wishes, but will also renounce the world and join a religious order. He asks Guinevere for a final parting kiss, which she denies him. 

When Guinevere lies dying of illness, Lancelot sets out to go to her, having had a vision. She knows of his coming, and prays to die before she sees him, because she cannot bear it. She dies a half hour before he arrives, leaving instruction that he is to tend to her body, and then lay it to rest beside that of her lord King Arthur. Lancelot does this with great sorrow, and after ceases to eat or drink, and within weeks is dead himself. 

And there you have it, the love affair that doomed Camelot.

HUGE DISCLAIMER: Any and all mistakes or misinterpretations are my own. This is what I gathered, but I am not a medievalist. I am barely an interested layperson. I’m just a random fic writer who got obsessed with research for a story, and had to share this tragic mess. 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey,

I hope that my question/recommendation is not to look for and find because I know how many fics you need to find all the time and your work is incredible but I'm craving for a sterek autumn fic. Something that has like Gilmore girls vibe, something that I can read and drown in the story.

Thanks even if you don't find anything ❤️

I'm not sure how gilmore girls this is (not to mention i live in tx which is hot as balls right now) but I hope you know if you leave, I will follow. Any. Anywhere that you tell me to.

[podfic] How many pumpkins is too many pumpkins? by Nutellargh

Shiver by canistakahari

(1/1 I 1,711 I Teen)

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Like leaves by lanalua

(1/1 I 2,722 I General)

When Stiles moved to Vermont to train as an emissary, he didn't expect to fall quite so hard.

Mr. Hale and the Terrible, No Good, Awful Autumn by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 5,590 I Teen)

There's a new sheriff in town, and Derek definitely wants to date him. Unfortunately Stiles' son hates Derek's guts.

A Wolf In Autumn by theredhoodie

(1/2 I 7,895 I Teen)

Stiles keeps hearing about a black wolf around campus. It takes him a little longer than it should to connect the dots and realize that it's not just any wolf. It's his ex-boyfriend.

reason to stay by bleep0bleep

(7/7 I 12,564 I Teen)

Life is cruel. Derek Hale is only going to be here in Beacon Hills for a week. Sundays Fun Days is a lie. It was not fun, getting a bit of hope and having it torn away.

How much wooing can Stiles do in a week, anyway?

~ It's the last week of October, and a small town baker has run into his first crush again. Fate might have other ideas. Stiles tries for romance with a little help from what Beacon Hills does best— Halloween.

little boy lost by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli), smartalli

)1/1 I 14,862 I Teen)

If someone asked Stiles to write a parenting book, Stiles would say the best and most important rule is to love your kid. Just love the hell out of them, and make sure they know it.

The second most important rule would be don’t turn your back on a curious three year old with supernatural speed.

Stiles is currently failing at the second rule. Badly.

Nearly Everything Shines by maevewren

(12/12 I 34,796 I Explicit)

Derek is a grumpy Park Ranger, Stiles is a daredevil rock climber. Each of them wants to escape his past, but maybe together they can find a future. Expect lots of cozy autumn feels, snark, major angst, and passion.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ok thank you good to know! because i'm seeing people act in genuine disbelief why other people are upset show francesca isn't that into john on top of just general confusion why they're upset about any changes to francesca's story because the bridgerton books aren't good. i've only real tdai so i can't speak for the quality of the whole series but i keep hearing whww is the best one. also the idea the show has elevated the books is silly to me, even if they aren't good books the show also isn't good?

As someone who has critiqued the Bton books a lot (I would only recommend two out of eight, personally) from what I've seen a lot of the people who say the books are bad haven't actually READ them lol. They've read out of context screenshots. I fucking KNOW they haven't read When He Was Wicked when they're out there calling Michael a sexual predator, lmao.

When He Was Wicked is the best book in the series, and anyone who's read multiple books in series (this isn't a dig at you by the way, I have zero issues with people going "I don't wanna read 'em, doesn't sound like they're for me", nobody HAS to read these books, I just think it looks very... unintellectual to critique things you haven't consumed--and part of that comes with maturity, I used to do things like that and still have to catch myself doing it at times, but damn some of these people are big ages and acting like they can talk about books they haven't read in an informed capacity) would know that it's also VERY different from the others.

The average Bridgerton book, imo, is very romcom-ish. Several of them rely heavily on the Ton or how a character relates to high society. They are chatty, fast-paced, often pull in other members of the family, and tend more towards those romcom vibes than historical accuracy. (None of these things are why I don't love most of the books; I think that a lot of them have structural and character development issues that have absolutely nothing to do with the tone of the books.) WHWW is a book that begins with a character being in big turmoil because he loves not only his cousin's wife, but his best friend's wife, and knows he will NEVER do anything about it. John dies. Then we have a massive grief tailspin for both Michael and Francesca, a SIZABLE time jump (4 or 6 years) and a return that begins as them rebuilding a friendship before he realizes she wants to remarry, she realizes she wants to fuck him, they do in fact have sex on the floor, and this sort of situationship begins. It's more sexual than a lot of the other Bton books (still not that sexual but more sexual lol) and it's a lot more... emotionally conflicted. It also in large part takes place away from the Ton and the family, though Colin (who is much better in the books, it's true) does have a "You go find my sister and get her" moment which I personally found hilarious. Show!Colin wouldn't dream of being like "GOT GET HER MAN!!!" to some guy who is very clearly just gonna like. Bang Colin's sister. A lot.

Like, I'm not saying WHWW is in my top romance novels. It definitely isn't. But it is imo a solid romance novel and the best one I've read by JQ. However, that's just my opinion. What isn't my opinion is that Fran and John were in love, for example. That's a fact. People who read the book know that, but we've got a lot of people who haven't read the book saying otherwise.

But yeah lol, to me regardless of what you think of the books... This idea that the show empirically elevated them is ridiculous to me. The books have many flaws. The show also chose to keep things like Daphne raping Simon; the show added in things like a Black unwed mother having her secret outed and being vilified by the "heroine" of the series, with zero consequences for said heroine; the show adds in things like "one of them loved one of US" and doesn't truly colorblind cast, but also doesn't want to deal with the implications of that (where is the British Empire in the Bridgerton show, then? How does India relate to that? Is Anthony Bridgerton going on an Indian babymoon just like... okay....? I wouldn't ask about any of this if the show just colorblind cast everyone, but it didn't, so); despite all of that, the show also chose to write a homophobic world.

And you can love that show! You really can. But acting as if the books are All Problems and the show All Perfect is kind of just... completely off balance and binary, to me. They're very separate entities at this point with (often) very separate problems. And as is the case with most adaptations, there are things the show did better and there are things the books did better.

I really wish that people could learn how to say "I love this thing, and I love that this thing did That Thing. I think That Thing is important. But that doesn't mean it's perfect, and this thing can still be critiqued".

Half my favorite books are old as balls and have problematic content. WHWW has problematic content. I can say that I appreciate what is good about those books without casting aside the things that aren't good.

I will say this as one last point about WHWW--anecdotally speaking, most of the romance readers I talk to actually don't like the Bton books that much. That's not to dog out the books, that's me reporting their tastes to say--the books they do like are either TVWLM, WHWW, or both. So I do think that people often say "WHWW is the best" because it is the "If you don't like Bridgerton, this is the Bridgerton book you will like" for romance readers, and has been since before the show began. That book's audience is often non Bridgerton-liking romance readers.

[bl00dst41ned]

hey hey love, if u don't mind can u give me some book or music or television recs to start off the new year

books

romance , horror or thriller, ya , dystopia

television

sitcoms , rom coms / romance, docuseries, 90s sitcoms, British television

music

rap, r&b, sometimes pop, soul

anyways

hope u have a lovely day / night

omgggggg this is a dream come true wait

books:

I don't read that much so I don't have so much recs but I'm currently reading a book named Love Radio (it's a black romance). also for dystopia, I only have the books I studied in school so Animal Farm (this is a banger, I love it so much) and The Handmaid's Tale.

television:

you asked the wrong one because miss girl over here is a YouTube lover so I'm not really into series, films, etc. but I can recommand Boy Meets World, an old Disney channel series. If you know Girl Meets World, this is basically the story of her dad.

for music, I can recommand (this is going to be long):

Jordan Ward: I discovered him this year he is so talented. he brings such good vibes with his music. (song recs: FAMJAM4OO and SIDEKICK)

Khamari, my 2023 rnb king: His album A Brief Nirvana has been one of my faves this year (song recs: Drifting, Tell Me)

Turn Your Lights Down Low by Bob Marley: that is not his usual reggae, it is more calm and "sensual". (it's so weird to say this but hey, I know this is the right word)

jev. : my rap discovery of this year. i don't really know how to describe him but I love his song "who?" and I hope you like it too

Rihanna: this might be odd but hear me out. you may not know her 2007 album, Good Girl Gone Bad. The love I have for it is insane, it's my favourite (song recs: sell me candy, push up on me, good girl gone bad)

don't really know where to put her but seeing your preferred music genre, I think Pip Millett would fit: her voice is so soothing and beautiful, I love herrrr (song recs: downright and my way)

Jorja Smith: i'm pretty sure you know her already but just her album falling or flying is the most amazing piece of art that i listened this year and i will talk about it forever (song recs: she feels, falling or flying, broken is the man)

if i was a boy ;) by adanna duru: i love how groovy it is and just fun to listen to. a good one to put someone in a good mood and give them energy.

Broken Record by GSoul: discovered it in a deb smikle video and haven't let it go since. it is also a groovy song that i love.

Tyler The Creator: well, who doesn't know Tyler.....but this year i got into his music more so my love for him grew (song recs: Who Dat Boy, IFHY, A BOY IS A GUN*, GONE GONE / THANK YOU)

imma stop here because why am i making you an entire essay of music recommendations (but I'll gladly give you more) <3

edit: if you're open to other langues than english (more specifically french), i have more recs for you

[randomblack-girl]

Astro notes 🧜🏾‍♀️

I noticed Saturn in the 9th house might show signs of religious issues like maybe religious beliefs were pushed onto them when they were young and this made them dislike religion or feel uncomfortable with it. I have this placement and I hate when people start talking to me about religion. Especially to fix my problems like girl God isn't gonna fix my crippling depression...enough

This could also show signs of going to college late or not wanting to. Maybe being conservative? But I haven't seen that, quite the opposite surprisingly.

Jupiter in the first house come off as nerdy or like they know a lot or very ditzy maybe both.

I've noticed sag risings, degrees, or jupiter rising have eye problems.

Saturn in the 6th house like to go on diets or they just do for some reason. And they stick to it they take their health seriously probably work out often too.

Pisces venus/5th house love anything with romance, fantasy, magic and spiritual stuff like Crystals. Here's some recommendations for yall 😍

Caraval by Stephanie Garber I love this book SO MUCH just read all 3 books and her other series once upon a broken heart eats too

Idc imma put it here...The Selection series and I don't wanna hear no slander 🙅🏾‍♀️

Now you see me- the movie I just watched it and omg why is it so good !?

I think the 5th house talks about music taste along with venus. My sister has a sag venus and listens to music in Spanish she also has Uranus in her 5th house and listens to pop. And I'd say music that isn't mainstream she loves Rina Sawayama and Rosalia.

I have pisces venus in my 5th house and I listen to mostly pop-indie music. I'm a pop and rnb girlie. I don't listen to mainstream music really and I kinda write mainstream artists off sometimes. My favorite artists are probably tyler the creator and willow. I also don't really "stan" anyone I really just listen to whatever is good. I rarely stick to an artist or have a favorite. I listen to one or two songs by one artist usually then move on its rare for me to like most of their music. I noticed something similar with my sister.

I have lilith in the 11th house and tell me why damn near my whole grade hated me 😻🤭. It was mostly guys too and I also experienced cyber bullying.

Lilith in the 6th house might show issues with their health or body. I knew someone who has this placement and they have diabetes. But it could just mean being insecure about their body.

Lilith in the 11th house are the ones sending and getting n*des too like unsolicited pictures or sexual comments. Maybe they do s*x work online or thought of it. Anything negative or sexual that includes the internet. Omg this placement reminds me of Kat from Euphoria!! Damn no wonder I related to her 💀

Chiron in the 9th house might show religious trauma. This is the placement for people who grew up in the black church...iykyk.

Venus in the 2nd house have nice lips like plump and little with a prominent cupids bow. My sister has this placement and she has such cute lips!

Capricorn rising and Saturn aspects to the asc tend to be skinny the type to eat whatever and never gain weight. It could be an insecurity I have Saturn square my asc and I've always been insecure about being skinny. I've also noticed they can be tall or look tall. Basically the tall and lanky type.

8th house neptune/pisces idk but something with drugs. May become addicted to substances, die from them, die in mysterious ways.

I knew someone with their sun in the 12th house and they talked about not knowing themself and being a different person to fit in.

Gemini moons love to read but they might struggle to actually read because of their other interests.

Moon in the 8th house might be like their mom. They might look like their mom or just be similar. Just a theory but maybe it would be like that with other planets like sun in the 8th house might be like the father, venus might be like their partner, mercury like their sibling. But I'm not sure.

Leo, 5th house placements, or sun dominant might love yellow, gold, and stuff with the sun. I'm sun dominant and love gold and sun jewelry I kinda refuse to wear silver unless I have to 🤭.

Moon people might love silver I know a guy who had moon in his first house who loved silver.

Capricorn rising/Saturn rising might have something with their bones. I know a guy who is cancer rising with Saturn in his first house who talked about getting silver grills. He also had pointy knees 😭 and his teeth were sharp, fang like? And he talked about hating them. He was also tall (he was so fine chile 😩) but we must stay focused!

Gemini men will tell you anything chile...I was dating (this was middle school so I don't really claim him but anyway) this guy with a gemini venus. He told me he was into black girls (whole time he's racist) and ended up cheating on me with a white girl 😭. Now again this was middle school so take it with a grain of salt ig.

Idc what planets but having a lot of planets in the 4th house is usually not a good thing 😬. Most people with this I've noticed had a traumatic childhood.

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[agrarianradfem]

You seriously have the best suggestions for books/documentaries/music/podcasts. I started listening to GastroPod on your recommendation and I love it! I'm in isolation for the next ten days and was wondering if you have anymore podcast suggestions or favourite books of 2021?

Thanks so much for the compliments! I love hearing that others enjoy my recs, makes me feel like I'm helping everyone find something interesting to read, watch, or listen to! For podcasts: Revisionist History - Malcolm Gladwell's podcast about rethinking certain historical events/moments/stories/etc. Some of my favorite episodes are: S1E6 The King of Tears, S2E1 Divide and Conquer, S2E2 Burden of Proof (this is the CTE episode for those who are wondering), S3E1 The Lady Vanishes (about glass ceilings), S3E4 Carlos Doesn't Remember, S3E5 Food Fight, S3E6 My Little Hundred Million, S3E8 Blame Game - clearly I love a bunch but I'll stop there! Heaving Bosoms - a hilarious romance novel recap podcast hosted by two amazing best friends! For those who already love romcoms/romance/romantic storylines: Start with episodes 30 & 31 The Hating Game! Then go watch the movie (which just came out). Then listen to episode 220 to hear them recap the movie!! For lesbians: episode 101 is Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics which was the first mainstream romance house historical romance. This podcast is absolutely one of my favorite things on the internet; they're so fun and funny and it makes me soooo happy every week to listen to them. Sometimes a little libfem cringe but not more than normal. Nolan Investigates: Stonewall - an investigative podcast series investigating how Stonewall has wiggled its way into UK politics, charities, businesses, and 'legal' advice. Bonus! A nonbinary male makes an absolute clown of himself, believes any normal person doesn't just get secondhand embarassment when he says he's attracted to someone based on alt appearances, most notable green hair. Outside/In - A great podcast on a variety of topics about the environment, but not in a stressful the environment is failing way. Some good episodes: Can an Animal be a Criminal, Scents and Sensibility, The Problem with America's National Parks, The Acorn: An Ohlone Love Story, 10x10: Pine Barren Dolly Parton's America - extraordinarily high quality podcast series from WNYC. Covers Dolly, Dolly's music, American culture, and how women are treated. A couple years old now but still really great and timely. Headlong: Running From COPS - podcast series about the tv show cops, how it fostered police faking evidence, falsely arresting individuals, exploited the people who were arrested on camera, and why the show continues to make many Americans believe stupidly in the police. Black Sheep - the stories of New Zealand's historical baddies. Covers a lot of racism, colonialism, treatment of women. RadioWest - this is out of Utah and covers the American West, especially the Mormons. If you're interested in how Mormons control state politics, command so much money, etc; are interested in stories about the American West; or are interested climate change, nonfiction author interviews for books you otherwise would never have heard of, and timely under-discussed political issues, then this is a great podcast to try. Not every episode is a winner, but I haven't found another podcast that covers anything like what RadioWest covers.

Books: The Premonition by Micheal Lewis - this book follows a few individuals who worked for years in public health, epidemiology, virology, and more. It covers their actions in the years and decades leading up to covid - how and why they ended up in the positions they did, how they tried to get the US to do something to combat covid deaths, and how they were silenced. Despite how I just made this book sound totally depressing (not that it isn't depressing) but it is also hopeful - there are people everywhere, in numerous fields, who have the knowledge and capabilities to help humanity - we just need to be better about listening to them, giving them resources, and supporting their work. So it makes me hopeful in a small way. Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley - an f/f historical romance! I haven't read this yet, but it's a top book of this year DESPITE being f/f (the genre far and away most ignored by romance readers)

Bill Bryson - if you listen to audiobooks, there are few audiobook narrations better than Bill Bryson's narration of his own works. He didn't narrate all of them (and literally the others aren't worth listening to) but he did narrate: A Walk in the Woods (his time on the Appalachian Trail), In a Sunburned Country (his travels in Australia), The Body: A Guide for Occupants (a journey into the human body), The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid (his memories of growing up in Des Moines). The books are all easy to listen to, very funny, and make you want to actually spend time in Des Moines, getting blisters hiking, and spending all your money to visit Australia. The Liar's Dictionary by Eley Williams - fiction. I haven't read this but my mom was obsessed with it for like a month! So that's her recommendation Unwell Women: Misdiagnosis and Myth in a Man-Made World by Elinor Cleghorn. An easy to follow history of how medicine's domination by men has harmed women, from the theory of wandering wombs, to ovary removal, to modern medicine ignoring the sex based link of chronic diseases. After her intro saying women aren't real because trans blah blah blah she never goes back to it because she can't - everything is sex linked. New Native Kitchen: Celebrating Modern Recipes of the American Indian by Freddie Bitsoie - this is a cookbook that draws upon the foodways and food traditions of Native Americans, but still draws upon modern 'American' food. I love cookbooks as books to learn from. This book makes a great pairing with The Sioux Chef - together you'd get an interesting mix of 'modern' takes and traditional ingredients and methods. I highly recommend you get them from the library since cookbooks are very expensive in general.

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

title: picture me pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again. word count: 18.3k warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok! a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.

i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪

(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)

The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence

—

He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.

He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.

You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.

He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.

You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.

When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.

What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.

The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.

Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.

The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.

He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.

You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.

—

At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.

He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.

There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.

When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.

The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.

It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.

These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.

Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?

One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.

“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.

“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.

When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.

You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”

“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.

Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”

You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”

She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”

You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.

You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.

Oh. The mirror.

She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”

You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.

Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.

“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”

“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.

When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.

For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.

You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.

When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?

You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.

“Did you come back for this?”

You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.

“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.

He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”

“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.

He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.

“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”

“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.

“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”

The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”

“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.

“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?

“Um, just different things here and there.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.

“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.

“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”

You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”

“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.

You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.

And you still didn’t get his name.

You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.

When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.

You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.

When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”

He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”

Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.

“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”

“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”

You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.

“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.

“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”

“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”

“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”

Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”

“Yes!”

Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.

You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”

“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”

“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.

Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”

“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”

Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”

“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”

You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”

He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”

You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”

“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”

You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”

Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”

Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.

You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.

Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.

He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.

When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.

“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”

It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.

After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.

Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.

As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.

He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”

“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”

“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”

Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”

“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”

“Turned, huh…”

Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.

You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.

You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”

“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”

“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”

“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.

Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.

You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”

“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”

“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.

“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”

“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.

“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”

“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.

You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”

You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.

“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.

You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.

Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. “Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”

You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.

The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.

As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.

Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”

You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.

It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.

The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.

“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”

Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”

He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.”

You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”

Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”

You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.

Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.

Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.

Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.

Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.

“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.

“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.

—

You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.

“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”

“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”

Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”

“Two places?”

“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”

“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”

“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”

“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”

Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.

“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”

Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.

He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”

On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around. 

When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.

Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.

“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”

“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.

“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.

“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”

Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight. 

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 6

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here, chapter 4 here and chapter 5 here.

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

When Friday was just around the corner, Azriel was a nervous mess.

He had cleaned his apartment twice, which he understood was a weird thing to do since she wasn’t even coming to his house. He had tried on every item of clothing in his wardrobe. He had googled ‘conversation topics first date’ and written a few down on his phone. He had even gotten a haircut.

He hadn’t been able to sleep at all that week. It felt weird to look at her videos when he had met her and talked to her. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even though it wasn’t. The videos were on the internet for everyone to see, yet Azriel couldn’t bring himself to watch her videos. So he didn’t sleep.

The day before the date, Azriel had decided to get her flowers. But when he stood in a flower shop and the person behind the register asked what kind of flowers he wanted, he just walked out of there. He had no idea what kind of flowers to give to a florist. He knew that certain flowers had certain meanings, and even though he had no idea what any flower meant, a florist probably knew. What if he bought flowers that said ‘I hate you’ or ‘happy funeral’?

Azriel couldn’t risk it, so he bought some chocolate instead. All women like chocolate, right?

But when he came home, his mind did that thing it always did when he was sleep-deprived: it questioned his every decision. What if Elain is lactose intolerant? What if she’s vegan? What if she is the only person on planet earth who hates chocolate? What if the different flavors of chocolate have meaning, just like flowers? Maybe you bought some sort of ‘happy funeral-chocolate’?

In an attempt to get these intrusive thoughts out of his mind, he went to the gym. He worked out for two hours, which was a bit excessive. The gym played shitty gym-music and every single person made weird sounds. It was the perfect distraction. For now.

Azriel hoped that his workout would help with his insomnia, too. He hoped that if he lifted enough weights and ran a few more miles than usual, perhaps he would be able to sleep. It had never worked before, but, as his mother used to say; “hope is the last thing that leaves you.”

However, after tossing and turning for three hours, he could safely say that the workout had done nothing to help him sleep. He couldn’t understand how a person could be so fucking tired, but still unable to sleep. He was almost going a bit crazy at this point. For the past weeks, Azriel had gotten used to falling asleep to Flower Girl ASMR’s videos. He had gotten used to her sweet voice rocking him to sleep. The insomnia was almost worse now that he knew how good it felt to have a decent night’s sleep.

Azriel looked at his phone. It was almost 02.30 in the morning. Fuck, he muttered to himself. He really didn’t want to be a tired mess on the date tomorrow. He had to put his best foot forward, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he hadn’t slept well for almost a week.

Maybe he should just watch one of her videos? She would obviously never know.

After debating with himself for a few minutes, he decided that Elain deserved to meet a well-rested Azriel, so he opened the YouTube app and found her latest video.

Azriel held his breath as her face filled his screen. God, she was lovely. Her smile could light up the darkest of nights, and her sweet voice was like a calming balm for his soul.

He put the phone in his chest and just listened. Slowly and gently, her whispers lulled him to sleep.

Azriel woke up relaxed, but nervous. He only had a half-day at work because Rhys had decided to send everyone home early today to celebrate that Feyre was pregnant. He was taking her on a spa weekend. She was only a few weeks pregnant, but Azriel knew that she would be the most pampered woman in the world during this pregnancy. This weekend was just the beginning. If she suddenly got a craving for pickle smoothies with whipped cream and sprinkles, Rhys would 100% make her one every day. And that is saying something since this man almost threw up every time someone opened a pickle jar in his vicinity.

“Any cool plans tonight, Az?” Cassian asked as he started to pack up his belongings.

Azriel wanted to tell him about the date. He wanted to share the nervousness with someone - anyone. But he couldn’t. Cass knew who she was. Nesta had known her since college. If this didn’t go well, Azriel would never hear the end of it. So he lied.

“No, nothing special. You?”

“I was going to take Nesta out for a date to celebrate that it has been four years since she agreed to go on a date with me…”

Azriel laughed. “After you had panted after her for like two years you mean?”

“Exactly!” He smiled. Cassian sure seemed like a big brute the first time you met him, but he was actually a soft teddy bear. He was never ashamed when people mentioned that he had been trying to win Nesta over for years before she agreed to date him. He just felt like he had won a prize. It was very sweet.

“However,” he continued. “She has to work late. Apparently, one of her authors had plagiarized fanfiction, which Nesta found out about like a week before the book went to print. So obviously, Nesta is livid and I do not want to be close to her until this is resolved.”

Nesta owned a publishing company that focused on publishing romance novels, which didn’t surprise anyone. Nesta had always loved romance books. In her words; the smuttier, the better. Azriel always found them a bit cringy. It was like reading porn. But truth be told, he had read a few books that Nesta had recommended, and they had taught him a thing or two.

“What the hell is fanfiction?” he asked Cassian.

Cassian shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, but apparently this author had just copied something from the internet and changed the names of the characters and sent it in as a manuscript.”

“Weird. I understand that Nesta is pissed.”

“Yeah. So, you wanna do something? Take out and a game?”

“No, I can’t,” Azriel lied.

“You just said that you didn’t have any plans.”

Fuck.

“Yeah, well. I said that I didn’t have any special plans, not that I didn’t have any plans.”

Implying that his date with Elain was “not special” made him feel like shit.

Cassian eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going on a date.”

“What? no.”

Cassian laughed and slapped Azriel’s back. “Yes, you are. You have that date-look all over your face.”

“What the hell is a date-look?” he asked, but Cassian didn’t answer.

“Who are you going out with? Do I know her? Is she hot?”

Azriel held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions. “You don’t know her,” he lied.

Cassian grinned. “So, you are going on a date?”

“You just said that I had a date-face?”

“Yeah, that was a lucky guess. So, what’s her name?”

“None of your business, Cass.”

“Wow, what a beautiful name,” Cassian teased. “But I get it. You like being secretive. Can you at least tell me how you met?”

“The internet.”

Cassian let out a fake gasp. “Stop the presses and hold your horses. Azriel downloaded a dating app? Can pigs fly now, too?” He made a point of looking out the window.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Azriel slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the elevator. Cassian was just behind him.

“So, can I see a photo?”

“No.”

“What if you’re getting catfished?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you can never be sure. One time, this girl, or actually, it was an old man…”

“Cass, please. Just let it go,” Azriel interrupted. “There’s a reason why I never tell you guys when I go on dates.”

“Dates? You’ve been going on multiple dates without telling me? I’m wounded, Azriel.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and stepped into the elevator. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Azriel got out. Cassian had his car in the underground parking garage. Just before the doors closed, Cassian called out for Azriel. “You might need this.” He threw something at Azriel, and Azriel didn’t see what it was until he caught it.

It was a condom.

With a grin, Cassian disappeared behind the big, metal elevator doors.

Azriel shook his head and looked down at the small foil packet in his hand. Cassian really was the worst.

A few hours later, Azriel was almost ready to leave for the date. He was wearing black trousers and a dark grey knitted sweater. And blue socks. Cobalt blue, to be exact. Azriel had a thing about colorful socks. He mostly dressed in black, but he didn’t own a single pair of black socks. These blue socks were his favorites, though. He loved cobalt blue.

Azriel was checking the route to the bar when an incoming phone call made his phone vibrate (he had put his phone on mute and deleted Barbie Girl from his phone, thank god!).

It was Elain calling.

Azriel felt his heart drop. Nobody called just before a date unless they wanted to cancel.

With a sigh, he answered the phone. He tried to sound cheery. “Hello, Elain.”

“Azriel! I’m so happy you picked up.” She sounded out of breath.

“Anything wrong?” Azriel asked.

“Well. Kind of… have you left your apartment yet?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

There was a short pause, and Azriel could have sworn that he heard her swear under her breath.

“Well, I won’t be able to make it. I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for calling this late. I was really looking forward to our date, I promise.” She really did sound apologetic.

“Has anything happened?” Azriel asked, suddenly a bit worried.

“No… Or actually, yes. I fell when I got out of the shower earlier. I thought that I just needed to rest, but I can’t walk,” she let out a pained laugh. “I’m such a clutz.”

Azriel hated that she was trying to make light of the situation. He hated that she was hurt. “Elain. If you can’t walk, you should probably go to the ER,” Azriel said.

“Oh, no. I called my neighbor. Madja. She’s a doctor. She said that I had just sprained my ankle.”

“Okay…” Azriel didn’t know what else to say.

“Can we reschedule?” Elain asked. “I really wanted to see you tonight.”

Azriel was used to being rejected. He was used to not trusting new people. But somehow, he trusted Elain when she said that she wanted to see him.

“Of course we can reschedule. I was really looking forward to meeting you too.”

“Really?” He could hear the smile in her voice. It made him smile.

“Yes. I’m av…”

Azriel was interrupted by a hiss from Elain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ready to steal a car, drive over her to her place, and get her to the hospital. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t know her address.

“Mhm, I’m fine. I just.. moved.”

“Elain. Do you have a friend or family member coming over to help you?”

There was a stretch of silence. “No, I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Her tone was too positive and cheery. Azriel didn’t believe her one bit.

“Have you had dinner?”

“I was planning on making some instant ramen.”

Azriel frowned. “And how are you going to do that when you can barely move? Also, that’s not good enough for dinner.”

She didn’t answer for a while. “I’m fine. I promise.” He could hear her voice break on the last syllable. She was not fine.

“Elain. Please, will you let me get you some food? I don’t have to come in if you don’t want me to. Just, let me get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to. If you’re willing to give me your address, I’ll be there in just a bit.”

She hesitated. “You probably have something better to do.”

“I don’t. Now please, let me get you some food.”

He didn’t just want to get her some food. He wanted to make sure that she was alright. He didn’t want her to sit all alone in her apartment when she couldn’t walk.

He wanted to take care of her.

After a small eternity, he could hear her whisper “Okay.”

45 minutes later, he was outside her building with sushi (she had said that she liked it) and a bag full of snacks. He didn’t know what she liked, so he had bought a little bit of everything.

A short, old lady walked out the door, and Azriel caught it with one hand. He didn’t want to call her and make her come to the door right now, so he snuck in.

Elain had told him that she lived on the sixth floor, so he quickly made his way up the stairs. He couldn’t risk being caught in an elevator right now.

He found the door with her name on it and raised his hand to knock. And then he froze.

What am I doing? he thought to himself. He had basically asked her for her address and then invited himself to bring her food. He knew that she had a bad history when it came to men. What if she just didn’t want to say no because she thought that it would hurt his feelings?

Azriel contemplated leaving the food outside the door and text her when he was a safe distance away.

“Azriel, is that you?” someone called from the apartment. Elain.

Azriel had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he called back. “Do you want me to leave the food outside the door?”

“No, come in. The door is open.”

With a deep breath, Azriel gathered his courage and reached for the doorknob.

He walked into a small hallway that opened up to a quaint kitchen. Elain was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was bright and welcoming. The walls were painted light green and the cabinets were white. Azriel could see a few cookbooks on her windowsill, which made him smile. Most people didn’t own cookbooks nowadays - they just found recipes online.

“In here,” Elain called. Azriel made his way through the kitchen and into the living room. His first thought was that the room really seemed to fit Elain. The dark wooden floor was a nice contrast to the white walls. Not that you saw much of the walls since they were covered by a built-in bookshelf and a gallery wall full of botanical prints. And there were plants in every nook and cranny. There was a dark green velvet couch in the middle of the room, and on it sat Elain. Or actually, she was half-seated, half laying down. Her foot was propped up with a few pillows. There was a coffee mug on the table in front of her, and beside the couch, he could see a worn leather chair.

Elain was smiling at him as he entered the room. When he smiled back, she put the back of her hand against her forehead, which made her look like a damsel in distress from one of those old Hollywood movies. “You came for me,” she exclaimed in an awful fake southern accent. “My hero!”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh. Elain was wearing black leggings and an oversized shirt. Her hair was gathered into a ponytail. She was beautiful, Azriel thought to himself as he sat down in the leather chair, giving her all the space she needed on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Madja said that it seems to be a mild ankle sprain, and I should be up and running in like one to two weeks. Honestly, I feel more stupid than anything else.”

“Why?” Azriel asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to cancel our date. And who falls out of the shower? I really am the clumsiest person in Velaris,” she joked. “Yesterday, I dropped a full cup of coffee over my new, white shirt. And the day before that, I poked my friend Nuala in the eye with a flower.”

“You… poked her in the eye with a flower?”

Elain laughed. “Yes. Her eye was red for hours.”

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Azriel thought that he could drown in those eyes. He wanted her to look at him forever.

But he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you want me to leave? I could just leave the food here with you.”

Elain bit her inner cheek, suddenly looking very nervous. “Would you...Didn’t you buy food for yourself?”

“I did. But I don’t have to eat with you if you want to be alone.”

“I…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be alone.” It was barely a whisper.

“So, you want me to stay?”

Elain nodded, a lovely pink color spreading across her cheeks.

“Okay.” Azriel unpacked the sushi from the bag and offered her a choice of drinks. “We have lemon, elderflower, and regular coke. I didn’t know what you preferred.”

“Elderflower, please.”

She was still blushing. Azriel couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or just nervous.

Azriel handed her the drink and opened the coke for himself.

Elain sat up slowly and reached for her chopsticks. Since she had to sit with her leg raised, she couldn’t exactly lean over the coffee table, so Azriel placed the sushi on a pillow in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said and put a few pillows behind her back. From where he sat, he could only see the back of Elain’s head now. He wanted to move the chair so he could look at her, but he didn’t want to come off as creepy.

And he was actually quite happy that they couldn’t see each other when she took a bite of her food and let out a sigh. It was just a sigh, but somehow it was the most erotic sound Azriel had ever heard. He blushed and made a point of looking at his food.

“God, this is so good, Azriel. Thank you. I was really hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Lunch,” she said under her breath and took another bite of sushi. Azriel looked at his watch. She hadn’t eaten in more than seven hours. And she was going to make instant ramen if he hadn’t shown up. Suddenly, he felt a bit better about the situation.

When Azriel looked up from his food, Elain was looking at him over her shoulder.

“Is this weird?” she asked. “Is it weird that I asked you to stay? I know it isn’t fun…”

“I kind of remember that I was the one who asked for your address, and then showed up at your doorstep with food. I promise that I wouldn't have done that if I didn’t want to. If anything, I’m weird for showing up like this.”

She laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “No, you’re not weird. You’re kind. I’m just not used to this.”

Azriel frowned. “Not used to what? Kindness?”

Elain looked away, but Azriel didn’t miss the slight nod. “My ex never came over when I was sick. He said that I was boring and that he had better things to do…”

Azriel felt his hands curl into fists. “Is this the same ex that cheated on you and now leaves hate on your videos?” he gritted out.

Another nod. “Yes. But there has been almost no hate since you helped me block those words.” She smiled at him, and he could tell that she wanted to change the subject.

“That’s good to hear.”

Azriel wanted nothing more than to ask where this asshole lived so he could go and kick his ass, but he tried to act civil for Elain’s sake.

“I’m sorry for talking about him,” she said. “You should never talk about exes on dates and…” Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. “Not that this is a date or anything,” she corrected herself. “I mean, it would be a pretty shitty date.”

She was flustered, and Azriel couldn’t hide the big grin on his face. She was so cute.

“Elain. Do you want this to be a date?”

“Do you?”

He knew that she needed to hear him say it. “Yes.”

A shy smile played on her face. “Me too.”

“Then it’s settled. This is our first date,” Azriel declared.

Elain’s smile grew. “So there’s a chance for more dates?”

“Don’t be greedy,” Azriel teased. Elain stuck out her tongue and turned around again, facing her food.

I want to taste that tongue, Azriel thought.

Damn those intrusive thoughts.

“I can’t believe that I’m wearing leggings on our first date.”

Azriel didn’t say anything to that. He could complain about anything that tight.

God, what was wrong with his brain tonight?

“You look so good, and I look like this,” she pointed at her hair. “I had even bought a new dress for tonight.”

This piqued Azriel’s interest. “Really? Tell me what it looks like and I can imagine you in it.”

Or out of it.

Stupid fucking brain.

Elain pointed somewhere behind Azriel. “Well, it’s right there.”

On a door that Azriel assumed led to her bedroom, hung a blue dress.

Cobalt blue.

His favorite color.

He grinned and pulled up one pant leg and showed her his sock “We would have matched.”

Elain let out a heartfelt laugh, which made Azriel all warm inside. He loved seeing her happy. He liked knowing that he was the reason for said happiness.

“I didn’t take you for a man that wears colorful socks,” she said, still laughing. “First Barbie Girl, and now colorful socks. I’m starting to think that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

There was a stretch of silence again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. Even though they didn’t know each other well yet, Azriel could already tell that Elain was one of those people that he just instantly could relax around.

“Elain, this might be a weird request. But can I move this chair so I’m not staring at the back of your head?”

Elain turned around, cheeks pink again. “Yes,” she answered quickly, almost as if she had thought about the same thing.

He picked up the chair and quickly moved it to the other side of the couch. When he met Elain’s gaze, she was staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?”

“You’re strong.”

Azriel scratched his neck and laughed nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, I work out.”

Wow, what a stupid fucking answer.

But Elain didn’t seem to mind. No, she was looking at him more intently now, and her eyes were not focusing on his face anymore. No, they were most definitely looking at his chest. “I can tell,” she said playfully. This felt very much like flirting,

Azriel wondered what she would think of the tattoos covering his skin underneath the shirt.

Azriel tried to remember the conversation topics he had written down on his phone, and after a few minutes, they were talking as if they had known each other for years. Azriel was surprised that she was so easy to talk to. Most of the time, he struggled with social situations. But with Elain, he felt comfortable. At ease.

“You’re very easy to talk to,” he told Elain. She rewarded him with a smile.

“So are you. It feels like we have known each other forever. I never thought that someone that slid into my DM’s would ever be this nice.”

At those words, Nesta’s face popped into Azriel’s mind. He should tell Elain that he knows Nesta. If it wasn’t for her, he would never have known that Elain lived in Velaris. If it wasn’t for Nesta, he wouldn’t have happened to run past her store that morning.

“I have a confession to make,” he said before he could change his mind.

Elain raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Please don’t tell me you’re trying to get me to join a cult.”

“Has that happened before?”

Elain shrugged. “More often than you think.”

“I’m not trying to get you to join a cult. I just… I wanted to tell you that I think that we have some mutual friends.”

She didn’t look surprised, but she didn’t say anything either, so Azriel continued.

“You know Nesta, right? I think you went to college together…”

Elain nodded.

“Well, she’s getting married to my best friend Cassian. I didn’t know that you knew them when I wrote to you, I promise. But it felt weird pretending like we don’t have people in common when we do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I found out last week when Nesta saw one of your videos on my phone and asked me if I was a stalker.”

Azriel was blushing now. He was expecting silence, or maybe questions. But instead, he was met with laughter.

“She thought you were a stalker?”

Azriel shrugged, unable to find any good words.

“Well, I might also have a confession to make,” Elain announced. “I actually knew that you were friends with Nesta. That’s why I even answered your DM in the first place.”

“What?” Azriel couldn’t find better words than that.

“Yeah, when I scrolled through your Instagram I saw a photo from Rhysand’s and Feyre’s wedding, so I kind of figured out who you were then. Nesta had mentioned you once or twice before, so I knew you weren’t a creep. And then I saw that selfie when you were carrying a lasagna, and you looked so good, so I answered your DM.” Her blush had almost turned a deep red.

Azriel couldn’t help but grin. “You answered because I looked hot? You said that the lasagna looked tasty…”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Want to hear another confession?”

Azriel nodded.

“Well, I kind of understood how to block words from the link you sent me, but I really wanted to talk to you more.”

Azriel’s mouth fell open in pretend shock. “Sneaky girl.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I just…”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Azriel interrupted. “Do you want to hear another of my confessions?”

“Yes, please.”

Azriel put his elbows in his knees and leaned forward. He could tell that her eyes went to his biceps. Good.

“Well, when I first saw one of your videos, I thought that you might be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Elain blushed even more, the color spreading to her chest. Not that Azriel was looking there.

“Really?”

“Yes. And when we talked on the phone, you know, that time when you lied about needing my help,” Azriel winked at her. “I hadn’t laughed that much in ages. I was so bummed because I thought that you lived on the other side of the country or something.”

“But I didn’t.” She smiled.

“You didn’t.” He smiled back.

They spent the entire night in Elain’s living room, just talking. Without even noticing it, a few hours went by. When they finished the sushi, Azriel made a snack buffet on the coffee table, which made Elain laugh.

“We are going to be so sick if we eat all of this.”

“Well, someone told me that she might be bedridden for more than a week, so maybe you could save some for the upcoming days of rest and relaxation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said and reached for the popcorn.

They continued flirting for the rest of the evening, but nothing explicit happened. They didn’t touch. Didn’t kiss. They just talked. It was all Azriel could have dreamt of. He had never felt so comfortable so quickly with anyone before. When it was close to midnight, he could tell that Elain was getting tired. After her fifth yawn, Azriel told her that he should probably get going.

She protested and then yawned again.

“Okay, I admit defeat,” she said and stretched. Azriel could see her stomach when her shirt rode up from the motion. It looked so wonderful and soft and…

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought, because Elain was trying to stand up by herself. Trying, and failing miserably.

“Could you help me to the bathroom?” she whispered and nodded to a white door just by the kitchen.

“Of course,” Azriel put his arm around her waist and supported her. She didn’t complain, but he could see the pain on her face. It hurt him to see her like this.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth. Don’t go just yet.” She closed the door. Azriel leaned against the wall next to the door and dragged his hands through his hair.

He looked around the room, not quite believing that he was here. In Elain’s home.

This date had been even better than he could ever have imagined. He was actually quite happy that they hadn’t gone out, but he obviously didn’t like that the reason for staying home was that she was hurt.

The door opened again, and Elain looked at Azriel with a pale face. She was so obviously in pain. Azriel grabbed her around the waist again and held her up.

“Do you have any painkillers?”

She nodded. “By the bed. Could you help me? Just to the door.”

Azriel started leading the way, but after two steps Elain winced.

Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. “Hold on,” he warned her, and then he picked her up. She gasped and flung her arms around his neck. This was the closest they had ever been. One of his fingers graced the hem of her shirt. He could feel her skin there. He had to take a deep breath. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she breathed, and he walked her to her room. He stopped at the door. It was a cozy bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue and above her bed hung a giant painting with a floral motif in a gold frame.

“Nice room,” he said. He didn’t put her down. She had said that she only needed help to the door, but he couldn’t see her walking to her bed all by herself,

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to...” he started, but he was interrupted when Elain said his name.

“Azriel,” she repeated.

He looked at her then, her face just inches from his. He could see every freckle on her skin. He could count every eyelash. His eyes went to her plush lips, and then back to her eyes.

Had she noticed?

She had his attention now.

“Azriel,” she whispered. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Azriel was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question. He didn’t mind, of course not. he was just surprised. She could probably see that in his eyes, because she quickly tried to smooth over it. “I mean, we don’t have to. I completely understand if you don’t want to, and I..”

Azriel kissed her temple to make her quiet. It worked very well. “You’re hurt.”

“Just my ankle,” Elain pouted. “Also, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘kiss it better’?”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that it means that you should kiss the place that hurts,” he teased.

“Eh, semantics. I think a kiss on the lips might do wonders.”

Azriel leaned in, almost touching his lips to her. Almost. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased.

“Mhm,” she breathed.

Azriel stayed like that for a while, his lips just out of reach. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her to go crazy with want. With need.

But that was for another time. Right now, he just needed to kiss her.

Elain was tilting her head to get closer to him. Her mouth was slightly parted and her eyes scanned his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

Azriel leaned in slowly and brushed his lips to hers. It was a feathery light touch. He could feel Elain shiver in his arms, and he held her closer. Tighter. He touched her lips with his again, and he knew he needed more. He tasted her lips once more, his tongue teasing her lower lip. Elain opened up for him, letting him in. She moaned when he deepened the kiss. When he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. When her tongue joined his. They were both panting, unable to stop. Elain’s hands went to Azriel’s hair, gently scraping his scalp while her tongue tangled with his. The sensation made Azriel crazy, and if she hadn’t been injured he would have lowered her to the bed and continued his kisses down her body until she was writhing underneath him, begging for more.

But she was hurt. And it was late.

Unwillingly, Azriel slowed down before breaking the kiss.

“More,” Elain panted and kissed his jaw.

Azriel chuckled. “Don’t be greedy.”

She pouted when he walked over to her bed, and it was the cutest pout Azriel had ever seen. It was so cute in fact, that he had to lean in again and kiss her lower lip. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was suddenly sitting on Elain’s bed with her in his lap. He was still holding her tight, her fingers still in his hair. Their lips were locked in another kiss. This one was even hotter. Even deeper. Azriel thought to himself that he didn’t need air if he could just taste these lips for the rest of his life.

After a small eternity, they did have to break apart though. Turns out the human body needs air. Stupid body.

Elain leaned her forehead against his.

“I should go,” Azriel said, even though every fiber of his being protested that statement.

She nodded. “Okay.” She was still out of breath. So was he.

Elain kissed his forehead, which made him feel oddly safe. “So, can I have a second date?”

Azriel chuckled and nuzzled her neck. She smelled divine. He wanted nothing more than to taste her there; just below her ear.

“You can have as many dates as you want.”

“Good to know.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths, Azriel helped Elain into bed. He fetched her a glass of water for the painkillers and made sure that all her windows were closed.

He leaned against her doorframe, trying to memorize the sight of her in bed. She looked so cute. So vulnerable.

“Could you lock the door when you leave? My keys are on the kitchen counter. You can just put them in the mailbox.”

“Of course.” Azriel walked into her room again and leaned over her. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Sleep well, Elain.”

“You too, Azriel.”

She was already drifting off.

Azriel walked quietly through the apartment and made sure that the door was locked behind him.

Azriel was walking home on clouds that evening.

In his bones, he could feel that this was the start of something wonderful.

When he climbed into bed that night, he saw a new message from Elain. She must have sent it just after he left her place. He opened the message, and there was no text. Just an audio file.

He pressed play and was immediately met with her heavenly voice.

“I thought that this might help you sleep,” Elain whispered, and Azriel could feel tingles up and down his spine. “Thank you for a wonderful date, Azriel.”

And then she repeated his name. For five minutes, she was whispering “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel,” over and over again, and it made Azriel both sleepy and aroused.

It was actually a very pleasant feeling, he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

That night, he dreamt about brown eyes, golden hair, and the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. Azriel had never felt better.

[jjuzoir]

Homare Arisugawa General HCS

request: “Hi Sora! I never see any art/writing for my boy Homare from A3! (Maybe because his dialogue is so ridiculous.) Would you mind writing something for him?” from tlali

a/n: ahhh i don’t think i’ve ever taken so long in a request jdjdndnd but i just wanted to make it right because i love homare so much❕ he deserves everything and more i just HDHSJJA we need more homare love 🤬 his dialogue is hilarious and i feel like we need to appreciate his style more no more homare slander 🙅

word count: 1667

- He smells like earl gray tea. No one knows why since he uses unscented soaps, he says it’s probably because he spends most of his time drinking or around tea.

- He’s very particular about his hair, he uses very specific shampoos and conditioners that he will absolutely not share or change unless he notices his hair needs it. Talking about his hair, it’s naturally kind of dry so he uses a lot of hydrating products which leaves him with the softest, most fluffy hair ever. It’s like touching a cloud.

- One of his favorite gifts given to him is a tie given to him as a birthday gift by his members. Everyone pitched it, including Izumi, and Azuma picked it out. It’s black, much like his everyday tie, but it’s got a small embroidered snowflake.

- He’s got three main pairs of glasses; his everyday ones he keeps at hand when he goes out, his at home ones which are (according to him) less flattering, and his driving ones. Keep in mind he can’t drive, he doesn’t even own a car.

- He can speak french and latin, and he’s super loud about it too. He’ll sometimes slip in french phrases and no one will understand other than Chikage and it’s just a mess - Muku is always so amazed that he knows two other languages too and probably asks him to teach him sometime.

- Definitely has the prettiest handwriting when it comes to the roman alphabet, he writes in ink and with fancy pens that cost more than Banri’s tuition.

- Absolutely has a bunch of business cards printed out, each with its own quote made by him. Sakyo thought it was such a waste printing them until he realized that no matter how many Homare took when he went to run errands he always gave them all, to whom? No one knows.

- He’s very well respected in the literary community, which still shocks pretty much everyone. He gets stopped often by fans or people who’ve read his work, it happens at least once a day and Izumi really doesn’t… she doesn’t understand, poor girl.

- He’s not that good with phone calls, he’s not bad but he definitely prefers texting or just talking face to face. To him there’s just a certain level of discontent he doesn’t like that doesn’t exist in other mediums.

- His favorite shows are either comedies or heavy hitting detective shows, there is no inbetween. You’ll walk in on him watching a sitcom leave the room and walk in on a serial killer chase down.

- About his love for detective shows, his favorite pastime is trying to solve the mysteries with the main character. He’ll rewatch the episode so many times to try and pick up clues, he’ll take notes and come to a conclusion and he loves the feeling of getting it right.

- In the same spirit as the statement above, absolutely got Tsumugi and Sakyo hooked on some of his favorites and they hang out to talk about the latest episodes and the overarching mystery. The conversations can tend to get kind of heavy very quick, more than once Muku thought they were investigating a real crime and almost fainted.

- He looks like he’s probably allergic to wool sweaters, they make his skin itch and he always needs to use a shirt underneath them - so he tends to buy those expensive anti-allergic ones that need to be washed in a very specific way that could probably pay Tsuzuru’s whole college debt and it takes a lot of restraint from the playwright not to steal one and sell in the black market.

- Talking about Tsuzuru, he often gives him writing advice. Said advice tends to be very useful, like keeping a pen and notebook on him in case anything comes to mind during the day or writing daily to help ease him into a style, etc. Homare genuinely wants him to bloom into a writer and is willing to beta-read anything Minagi needs, be it a script or a sleep deprived rambling about the gay subtext in Nocturnity.

- Arisugawa sets himself reading goals each month, he likes to read at least one book. He prefers poetry books or classic english literature, but he also likes to read romance books or really bizarre dystopian novels.

- Has read more books than most people in the company and can give very detailed recommendations if you give him like a day.

- Sings operas in the shower, unless stopped he will keep going until the second act. Surprisingly good falsetto, but one time Tenma thought it was a Banshee for a second and almost cried into Juza’s chest.

- He’s not only an overly emotional drunk but also a loud drunk, he’s already quite loud but when he’s downed half a bottle of wine and a shot of vodka he’s louder than the Summer Troupe combined. Because of this, Izumi tends to restrict his alcohol intake when they’re at the dorm.

- I can see him being very big into musicals, not all musicals but a very specific niche; classic horror novels turned into musicals. He’s a very big fan of both the German and Korean versions of Dracula, his favorite song is probably “Zu Ende” or the Korean version of “It’s Over”. He also likes the Frankenstein musical too, but overall he finds Junsu’s Dracula more interesting thus his preference.

- He will talk your ear off if you mention any musical though, be it a classic like Phantom or something newer like Heathers.

- A very big fan of Ghibli movies, he told me so himself today. He really likes Spirited Away though, it’s a movie he’s watched so many times but he’s still completely enamoured by it; he probably has made the Winter Troupe watch it at least once and Hisoka definitely knows the beginning of the movie by heart now.

- Homare is also really good at drawing, not like Kazunari but he’s probably the second best. He learned by analyzing and looking at artists he admired and picking up on their techniques. A true Renaissance Man™️.

- I feel like he’d also have a bunch of skills that are kind of, useless? He can probably carve wood and make candles, he also took a course in glass blowing probably. Arisugawa just wants to try everything at least once, his motto is probably to explore and learn as much as possible, not just about art but the world (he can be surprisingly smart if you have a dictionary at hand).

- Very observant, just in general. Which can be both good and bad, it’s good because it helps him understand the situation in ways others might not but it leads to him to sometimes overthinking things and behaving in manners which may annoy or hurt others.

- He also has a hard time trying to react to social cues, as seen in game, with certain people. While he’s worked it out with the Winter troupe and the Mankai company he still struggles when it comes to new people.

- Will make little tunes he sings in the shower that kind of become a little daily song, each day there’s a new one he’ll hum.

- He also canonly makes music and he makes contemporary electro-pop, you cannot change my mind. He probably also mixes opera and classical music into his tunes, which can go from 1 minute to 10, so you end up with a very cool mix of orchestra and techno-pop - it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but he’s probably got his own niche group.

- Now, into more romantic HCs...

- He’s a good flirt, a very good flirt. They may sound weird looking back at it, but his pickup lines work and they work well.

- He knows when to stop pursuing someone too. He senses even a bit of discomfort and he’s backing away, won’t ask anything. Very big on consent and unless stated absolutely explicitly he’ll keep his distance.

- A true gentleman, please - he’ll never let his dates pay, always open the doors for them, will even do the “walk on the inside of the sidewalk” when he’s walking you home.

- His favorite dates tend to be ones where you get to know more about each other, not always necessarily by talking though. Being able to go into a bookstore and look at the books, seeing the ones you pick, what you pick at a cafe or restaurant, it all helps him draw a better picture of who you are and he likes to think it helps you get to know him better too.

- He’s very in tune with his S/O’s feelings but is afraid of overstepping any boundaries which may lead to some miscommunication at the beginning of the relationship. But it’s workable and it wouldn’t be that big an issue in the long run as long as his partner is willing to help him understand them.

- Not big on PDA, thinks certain things should remain inside - not to say he wouldn’t talk for hours about his partner to anyone who listens but things like kissing or hugs tend to be behind closed doors. He’s okay with hand holding and maybe a kiss on the cheek though!

- Likes wearing matching outfits with his S/O, thinks it shows how they’re “one in spirit, heart, and mind” and will not stop pointing it out to the point even married couples feel single as they hear him ramble on about the subtle coordination in your color schemes to create a perfect contrast.

- Notices the smallest things like how much sugar you like in your drinks, the telltale signs of when you’re lying or uncomfortable, how you act when you’re too cold or too hot, and learns it by heart.

- Homare is also the kind of boyfriend who’d confront the waiter if they get your order wrong, he’s not ashamed of it either.

- He kind of just wants to make sure you’re doing well and happy, he’s a gentleman.

- Damn… I love him so much

[atlafan]

The Real Him - One Shot

a/n: I’m not sure where this came from...a lot of this is sort of how I feel about writing, and reading, and how my brain works???? Hope you enjoy cause it’s fun! Book Writer!Harry x Y/N (not proofread) 

Words: 9.6K

Warnings: Fluff, wee bit of angst, and smut

Books weren’t things Y/N found interesting. She hated reading the assigned books in high school for whatever English classes she had to take. She often would just read what she needed on Sparknotes, and that was enough. Then, in college, even if she wanted to read for leisure, she didn’t have the time. She had to read articles and academic journals constantly. By the time she was done for the day, the last thing she wanted to do was read.

Now, as a young adult living in the city, she noticed her anxiety was always worse at night. She lived alone in a little studio apartment, it had a wonderful view. She would watch TV or scroll on her phone until she fell asleep, but the screens were too much for her eyes. She knew it wasn’t good for her. Much to her friends’ shock, she texted them asking them for book recommendations. Y/N didn’t want to think too hard, she didn’t like scary stories, but she also liked a little bit of world building and romance. Fuck, if there was anything she loved, it was a good romance. Her friends told her about this young author they discovered whose stories were enthralling.

She took their word for it, and ordered one of his books off his website. He was self-published, which she found to be interesting. How good could he be if a major publication didn’t want him? She trusted her friends’ opinions though, so she went with it. He had this series called, The Unicorn in the Farmer’s Pool, that they raved about. She told herself she’d start with the first one and see how it goes. Sometimes Y/N had a hard time concentrating to even read a book, so she didn’t want to buy too many.

The title of the book itself was odd, but when she read the description she understood. Apparently, it was about this young woman, new to town, who was going for a walk with her younger sister, and one day they come across this beautiful old home and large farm. There was a pool in the back with one of those big unicorn floats, which they both found odd. They see the farmer outside, and the woman inquires about it. He explains that it’s his daughter’s. He and his wife were divorced, and she moved out to the city. Unfortunately, she passed away, so his little girl came home to live with him.

It was a certified slow burn, so when it came in the mail, Y/N couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. There was only one picture of the author, Harry Styles, on his website. The book, however, had a lovely picture of him on it. He even named his publication company after himself, trademarking HES Books. He was handsome, there was no denying that.

“Alright, let’s see how well this guy knows how to write thing from the perspective of a woman.” She says as she settles into her bed with the book.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N found a book that she just couldn’t put down. Sure, she passed out with it on her chest, but she’d get right back to it the next night. She was ripping through it. Her heart would race anytime the farmer and the woman had a scene together. She cried when he spoke about his divorce, and how he never slept knowing his daughter was so far away. He’d never wish his ex-wife ill, but he felt like it was fate to have his daughter home. He’d give her anything she wanted, even a giant unicorn float for the pool. Something she couldn’t have in the city. His daughter would paint his nails glittery colors, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought of it. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as the woman slowly fell for him. They became fast friends but it was clear they wanted more, but they were both so scared.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” She says to herself when she gets to the end of the book, it was a cliffhanger. They hadn’t even gotten together yet. They were caught in a rain storm, about to kiss, but they were interrupted. “Goddammit.” She groans and grabs her laptop to buy the rest of the series. “Welp, Mr. Styles, you now own my ass, I hope you’re happy.” She sticks her tongue out at his picture on his website.

By the time she finished the third book, she was inconsolable. It thrilling, but she knew it couldn’t be the end for the two who were now so in love with each other. She also couldn’t believe how well written their love scenes were, a little shocked there was a small dash of smut. She looked on his website and saw he was set to release the fourth and final book of the series soon, and there would be a big release for it. He would do a reading and signing. Y/N texted her friends and they all agreed they needed to go. They still couldn’t believe how much Y/N liked the series. It consumed her soul, she couldn’t get enough. She even bought his other standalone novels to read until the release.

Eliza: hey! HES just released the first book on audio, and he narrates it! Should hold us over until the release ;)  

Y/N: holy fucking shit! Literally about to go download it, thanks!!!

Now this was a way to fall asleep, she thought. She plugged her earbuds into her phone, turned her light off, and hit play. She gasps the second she hears his voice.

“He’s British?!” She says to herself. “Dear god.”

His voice was deep and sultry, and sounded incredibly crisp through the audio. Each night for the rest of that week, she fell asleep to the sound of Harry’s voice; it was euphoric. She felt sort of weird for becoming as big of a fan of him that she was. It was like she was in high school again having a crush on some unattainable celebrity. She couldn’t even talk about him to anyone at work. It was like this big secret between her and her friends. Instead of listening to music in her office, she started listening to interviews or podcasts he was involved in. Anything to just get a better understanding for who he was or how his mind worked. She found that he was incredibly private, only tweeting or posting on Instagram from promotional purposes. A PR person most likely running the sites for him.

“Okay, I think I’m obsessed with him, like, it’s bad.” She tells her friends at brunch one Saturday morning. They would all try their best to get together a couple times a month.

“Welcome to the dark side.” Eliza says.

“I knew if we didn’t push you that you’d come around at some point to ask us for a book rec.” Melinda says.

“You could have just showed me his picture, he’s so handsome! I can’t wait to go to the signing. I wonder what type of suit he’ll wear. Maybe all black?”

“I heard he’s into florals lately.” Eliza says. “I’m glad we got our tickets when we did, it’s going to be packed.”

“Yeah, like, at least we’ll have seats for the reading.” Melinda says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to hear his voice in person. That audio book? Oh my god.” She pretends to fan herself. “I’ve been enjoying his other novels too. He has such a way with words, I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed a book this much. Maybe The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?” She chuckles.

“Didn’t you read that in high school?!” Eliza laughs.

“Yeah!” Y/N laughs, and Melinda joins in. “I fucking hate reading. I wonder if he’ll ever sell the rights and have it turned into a movie or TV series.”

“People have been begging him. He said maybe once the fourth book has been out for a bit. He didn’t want to feel pressured, like, you know how with Game of Thrones the books didn’t come out fast enough for the series?” Melinda says.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I think a TV show would be good. Then they could take their time with it. The only thing is I can’t picture someone playing the farmer other than him.” Y/N sighs.

“Agreed.” Eliza says. “I can really only see him.”

“So, how are we dressing for the signing? I don’t wanna look desperate by dressing up too much.” Melinda says.

“Melinda…” Y/N starts chuckling. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m aware.” She swats a hand at Y/N. “But damn, Harry is too fine.”

//

Y/N curls the ends of her hair on the day of the signing. It was finally here, and she couldn’t be more excited. She found a cute yellow top to wear with some high waist jeans. She does some simple makeup, but makes sure to have her eyes pop. The rules were that people could only bring one book with them, so she grabs the first in the Unicorn series. She fully intended to buy the new book as well, and they said he would sign all new purchases too.

She meets Melinda and Eliza outside the bookstore where it would all be happening. They get in line to buy their new books, and head to their seats. They were able to snag tickets for the second row. He would be reading the first few chapters of the first book, and then would spend the rest of the time signing books.

“I’m so excited.” Y/N whispers to both of her friends.

A man comes out shortly to check the crowd of people waiting, and soon it’s announced that Harry would be coming out. Everyone stands up and claps for him. He was wearing a sleek black suit, and his hair was pushed back off his face. He looked bashful as he smiled out to everyone, and stood at the podium provided. Everyone sits back down as he clears his throat.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Whether you’re a new fan or if you’ve been with me for years, I appreciate your support. It feels surreal for this series to be over. I’ve loved these characters so much, and when I finished the final edits, it felt weird saying goodbye. I also want to say thanks for all the support with the first audio book. I fully intend to do one for the rest, it just takes a lot of time and editing, so hold tight for me, alright?” The crowd giggles, and his dimple grows deeper. He takes a sip of the water provided, and opens the book. “Let’s get started shall we?” He looks up at the audience who was waiting patiently. He makes eye contact with Y/N. It’s brief, but he looked at her…or at least she told herself he did.

His voice was just as smooth in person as it was on the audio. Y/N was swooning, barely paying attention to the words, but more so watching the way his lips moved. The way he’d lick his lips after getting a sip of water, and watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It all felt like a dream. He ended up reading five chapters instead of three, as a treat, until his manager came out to remind him to wrap it up.

“Right, well, I’ve been told I’m done speaking.” He chuckles. “I just need about ten minutes and I’ll be able to sign all your books. Thanks so much!”

He leaves as everyone claps for him again. Everyone gets in line and waits for him to return. There was a table waiting for him to sit at and a ton of markers.

“I wonder how long we’ll get with him. Like, a minute, right?” Eliza asks.

“Make every second count.” Y/N says.

“I’m gonna try to take a selfie.” Melinda says. “Then I’ll really remember it forever.”

As the girls got closer to the front of the line, Y/N felt herself getting nervous, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tries to wipe them on her jeans before she gets to him.

“Hello, love.” He smiles at her. “Whatcha bring f’me?”

“Huh?” She was so taken aback.

“Well, I know you didn’t come here to have me sign a body part…unless you did.” He shrugs. “Although, I don’t think my manager would appreciate that.” He winks at her and it makes her giggle.

“I have the first back, and the newest one.” She hands them both to him. “I have to say, I’m not really a big reader, but this really drew me in. I think I’ve fallen in love with reading for the first time in my life.”

“That’s like…I mean…wow, what a compliment, thanks.” He signs both of the books. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats as he continues to leave a nice note in both of her books. “You know pictures aren’t allowed, but if you turn around and happen to take a selfie they can’t stop you.” He points to the few guards.

Y/N turns around and takes a selfie with Harry. She turns back around and chuckles as she takes her books back.

“Thank you so much. I can’t wait for the next audio books.”

“You liked the first one?”

“Loved it.”

“So, it wasn’t weird listening to me for that long?”

“Not at all…” She starts blushing. “Your voice is sort of, um, soothing…I have a lot of anxiety at night, and, well, reading, and evening listening has helped me sleep a lot better. So, thanks again.” She smiles at him and he smiles back.

He wished he could hug her. He looks back at his manager, who just sighs at him and nods. Harry stands up from the table and walks around. Before she knew it, his arms were being wrapped around her. She got a whiff of his cologne, and she swore it was her new favorite smell in the world. She barely got a chance to put her hands on him before his manager said it was enough and Harry needed to get back to it.

“Sorry, that was just so endearing.” He lets go of her and sits back down. “Thanks for your support.”

Y/N steps aside and looks at her friends who were waiting for her to finish up. She looks back at Harry who was already talking to the next person. She sighs, knowing she was long forgotten already.

“Oh my god, I took a picture of him hugging you.” Eliza says. “What was it like? All he did was shake my hand.”

“He smelled so good.” Y/N whines. “Girls, let’s go out for drinks tonight. I need to get some energy out.”

“Great idea! We can drink and then dance the night away.” Melinda says. “What did he write in your books?”

“I don’t wanna look yet, I wanna save it.” Y/N smiles and holds her books close to her.

//

After grabbing dinner and dropping their books off at Y/N’s place, they all head to their favorite dance bar. They all get their drinks and stand near the bar to drink them. Y/N was happily sucking on her straw, swaying along to the fast beat of the music.

“Look, they actually roped off the VIP section.” Eliza points out. Y/N and Melinda turn to look.

“I wonder who’s here. Once in a while someone cool shows up.” Melinda says.

The group in the VIP section erupts into laughter, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. Harry was standing up from the booth, looking much more casual. He still had his dress pants and button up on, but his sleeves were pushed up, revealing his tattoos. He strides up to the bar as he shakes his head back at his friends. He brushes right by the girls, bumping into Y/N, causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, love.” He says to her, and then he looks her up and down. “Do I know you?” He slurs slightly.

“Um…we…we met earlier today. You signed my books.”

“I signed your what?!” The music was really loud, he must have thought she said something else.

“Books, books!” She really enunciates the k sound.

“Oh!” He bursts out laughing, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I was gonna say, that sorta thing isn’t really my style. What are you drinking, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s still plenty in here.”

“Don’t be silly, I feel terrible. In fact,” He looks at Melinda and Eliza, and then to the bar tender. “Their next round’s on me. I also need another bottle of Patron for my table.”

“Coming right up!”

“Lost a bet with ‘em.” He rolls his eyes. “So the next bottle’s on me.” He shrugs.

“We’ll bring it over to you.” The bar tender says as she puts up three new drinks for you and your friends.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“S’the least I can do. Your support is the only reason why I can afford what I have. I should buy your drinks all night.” He smirks.

“Y/N.” Melinds grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear. “Go for it, bitch, go for it. He’s hitting on you. We’ll be over there.”

She lets Y/N go and drags Eliza with her over to another part of the bar. Y/N grabs her drink and smiles at Harry.

“Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“You must have seen hundreds of people today, how’d you remember?”

“I’m really good with names.” He grins. “Do you want to join me and my friends?”

“What?!”

“Come on, seems like your friends are busy anyways.” He nods over to Melinda and Eliza where Melinda was working as a wing-man for Eliza. “They’re bringing over the Patron, you’ll love it.” He grabs her wrist and brings her over. One of the body guards raises his eyebrows. “I’m baacckk, let us in Mike.” Mike lifts the rope up and lets Harry and Y/N in. “Everyone this is Y/N, she’s got to be one of my biggest fans, so she’s joining us.” He pulls her down into the booth with him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

He was drunk, this was very clear. No one seemed bothered by her presence. Everyone was just happy to have refills for their drinks. Harry takes a shot of the Patron along with everyone else as Y/N sips on her drink. She felt bad, Eliza had to be a bigger fan of Harry, or at least she had been a fan longer…

“So, how’d you know he’d be here?” Harry’s manager, Jeff, asks.

“I didn’t.” She blushes. “My friends and I come here all the time.”

“Right, like we haven’t heard that one before.” Jeff smirks. “Some of you fangirls-“

“Oi! Don’t make fun, she’s cool.” Harry defends her.

“I can prove I’ve been here plenty of times.” Y/N takes her phone out and shows them her Facebook page. “There, you can see how many times I’ve checked in here. I only live a block away, so this tends to be the spot.”

“See, Jess, this is the spot.” Harry smirks, and knocks back another shot. “We’re being rude, here.” He slides a shot over to her. “Have as much as you like.”

“That’s okay, I have this.” She points to her glass.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, you’re so nice.” He pulls her a little closer to him. “But really, if you want any, you can have as much as you want, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Y/N sort of just sits there and tries to listen as each person talks, but the music was so loud, and she was itching to dance, especially now that she had a couple of drinks in her. She was drumming her fingers mindlessly on the table.

“Do you want to dance?” He whispers in her ear. A shiver goes up her spine. She looks up at him and nods. “Alright, let’s hit it then.”

She gets out of the booth and he quickly follows her out to the dance floor. At first it’s just light and playful, he keeps one hand in hers, but keeps a respectable distance. If Y/N was dancing with her friends right now she’d probably be popping her ass no problem. She sort of wished they were still around. She couldn’t remember the last time she danced with a guy. She looks at him and feels a little bold, so she hooks an arm around his neck and dances close to him. His hands move to her hips as she essentially grinds on his thigh. When the next song starts, she turns around to grind her ass against his pelvis. He presses forward against her and she can tell he’s very happy to be dancing with her.

“You said your place was only a block away?” He says into her ear, and she nods. “Wanna head there?”

She stops dancing and turns around to face him.

“Are you serious?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, too forward?”

“No…I just…um…yeah, let’s go back to mine.”

He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders. He looks over at Jeff who was still sitting with their friends. He waves off to him, and heads out side with Y/N. Harry whistles for a cab, and one pulls up almost right away. They both get into the backseat, and Y/N gives the driver her address. Harry rubs circles into her shoulder. She rests her hand on his knee, as her leg shakes with nerves.

“You alright, love?”

“Mhm, yeah.” She doesn’t look at him.

“No need to be nervous, babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looks up at him now and smiles. She wanted to do everything with him. It was like every fantasy she had was coming to life. She had dreams about this, but never thought it would come true. The cab pulls up in front of Y/N’s building and they both get out of the cab. She keys into the front door and she leads him to the elevator.

“I’m surprised you’re not exhausted, must be draining to meet so many people.”

“Caught a second wind.” He winks at her. She giggles as they get off at her floor.

She leads him inside as she flips the lights on.

“It’s just a studio.”

“It’s nice, just enough space. You’ve got a great view.” He says as he walks over to the window.

“Yeah, I got really lucky.”

“Mind if I pull the curtains?”

“Not at all.”

She watches the muscles in his back flex as he reaches to pull the curtains closed. He turns to face her and walks over to where she is. He cups one of her cheeks and she leans into his touch.

“I have to be honest, I don’t usually do this.” He says.

“Do what? Hook up with a girl from a bar?” She smirks.

“No, hook up with a fan…” He sighs. “But what you said to me earlier about your anxiety and how my books have helped you, it stuck with me all day. I’m really glad I ran back into you. I got kinda nervous when you didn’t message me.”

“What? Why would I have?”

“I wrote my number in your book.” He lets go of her and steps back. “You didn’t read my notes?”

“No, I…I was saving them for when I was feeling down.” She admits, a little embarrassed. “Why did you put your number in it?”

“In case you ever needed someone to talk to…if you ever got sick of listening to the same story over and over. It was a little impulsive, but no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“Usually people just tell me that they enjoyed it, or they try to flirt or something. It’s usually pretty hollow.” He shrugs. “But you…” He takes her hands in his. “Well…if you noticed, I didn’t really hug anyone else.”

“I did notice. You made me feel really special, Harry.”

“I’d like to keep making you feel that way…”

He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands slide up through his curls, and she gets up on her tip toes while his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brush over hers, and she pulls his face closer to hers to deepen the kiss. She smiles against his lips which makes him smile and pull back.

“What is it?”

“I just…I can’t believe this is happening…” She presses her hips closer to his.

“You’ve thought about this before, with me?”

She nods her head yes and he smirks.

“Is that weird?” She asks, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“Who am I to judge what helps someone fall asleep at night?” His voice was low now, eyes darker than they were moments before.

Maybe this wasn’t something either of them should be doing while inebriated. But from lack of better judgement they start kissing again. His hands slide down to cup her ass, and his large hands give her a squeeze. She groans into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to lick into her. Her tongue molds to his, and she starts pushing him to walk back towards her bed. He happily lets her lead the way.

The back of his calves hit the bed, and he almost loses his balance. He sits down and brings her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Lips only breaking for a moment to get some air until they’re on each other again. Her hands lace through his hair and he groans when she tugs on him. His lips move to her jaw and then to just under her ear. She gasps when she feels him suck on the tender skin. Her hips roll down over his, and he smirks against her. He licks over the spot he was sucking on, and goes back for more. She grinds herself against him, feeling his bulge press up against where she needs it most. His lips move back to hers so he can nip at her bottom lip before looking at her.

“You want this?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t have said yes to coming back here if I didn’t.”

“You could have changed your mind between the bar and now.” He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her hair. “I meant what I said earlier, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, do you?”

“I certainly didn’t change my mind.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss him again before getting off him. She reaches behind him quickly to snag one of her throw pillows to put on the floor. She sits up on her knees before him and reaches for his for the button on his dress pants. She looks up at him as he widens his legs for her. He wasn’t expecting a blow job, but he wasn’t one to turn it down. She pops the button and undoes his zipper. She reaches into his pants and palms him through his boxers first. His palms were flat on the bed, his arms keeping him up, but he can’t help but let his head fall back from her touch.

“Harry, look at me.”

He immediately does as she says so he can make eye contact with her.

“Is this okay? Can I take it out?”

“Yeah, please.”

She smiles and tugs his pants and boxers down slightly, he lifts his hips up to help her. He unbuttons his shirt while his dick slaps up against his lower stomach. She gazes up at him. Once his shirt is off, she can’t help but look over all his tattoos.

“You’re so…pretty.” She chuckles.

“Not as pretty as you.” He runs his hands through her hair, giving her a little encouragement to get started.

She blushes as her eyes fall to his hard cock, tip swollen and ready to go. She licks her right hand and gives him a few pumps first. He grunts as he watches her. She licks a stripe up from his base to his tip before she wraps her lips around him. His eyes flutter closed for a second, but he didn’t want to miss anything so he does his best to keep his eyes open to watch her work on him. She already had small droplets of spit rolling down her chin. Sloppy, he thinks to himself and he smirks. She sinks a little further down on him, testing herself to see how much she can take. He thrusts up slightly to meet her halfway and she gags on him, needing to pop off for a moment.

“Sorry, been a while.” She mumbles, and gets back on him.

“No worries, doing great, love.”

He helps keep her hair back as she starts to bob up and down on him. Her warm mouth felt so fucking good around him. She swallows around him before really hollowing her cheeks to suck on him. Her mouth moves up to his tip so she can lick away at his slit. She wraps a hand around him to pump him as she does this.

“Baby, baby, hold on.” He pants, and moves her face away from him. She looks up at him with big, innocent eyes that were slightly watery now. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” He sounded almost out of the breath. She nods and stands up. His hands grips her hips and then slide to the button on her own jeans. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says, taking off her shirt. He looks up at her and kisses on her chest as he undoes her pants.

He yanks them down her legs. He smiles at her mismatched set of underwear. She had worn a white bra with her yellow shirt, and a simple pair of blue panties with her jeans.

“I didn’t think, um, I would be…it was a girl’s night, and-“

“Do you really think I care about your underwear not matching?” He raises an eyebrow at her as he smirks.

She smiles and rests her hands on his shoulders as he kisses on her lower tummy. He stands up to kick his pants away, and lets her get on the bed. She lays on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. He crawls onto the bed and settles between her legs. His lips find hers as he grinds himself against her covered center. She bites her bottom lip, just wanting her underwear gone. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. After a few seconds of fumbling he gets it, and watches the bra loosen around her. She pushes it off her shoulders, and tosses it to the ground. His hands cup her full breasts immediately. He kneads them and tweaks her nipples. She grinds her hips up towards his as they continue to move against each other. He dips his head down to kiss on her chest, and he rolls a nipple between his teeth. He works his way down her body and slides her underwear down her legs, tossing them aside where he feels like. She parts her legs for him.

He dips his down and licks from her center to her clit. He does this slowly but with precision. Her hips buck up towards him, encouraging him to keep going, so he does. He licks all around her until his lips are around her throbbing clit. He nibbles and sucks and flicks his tongue while his fingers explore her folds. Her hands were in his hair. She kept thinking she was going to wake up. Any minute now she would snap out of her dream. She would pinch her eyes closed and expect to see the morning sun creeping through her windows, but not this time. When she opened her eyes there he was, head between her legs, lapping away at her. The clouds covering the moon and night sky. He had her whimpering and tugging at his hair. He wanted her to come, but not yet, just get her to the brink. She pouts at him when he lifts his head. He licks his lips and smiles at her.

“Got any rubbers?”

“Mhm, in the bathroom, I can-“

“I got it, just tell me where.”

“The box in the cabinet below the sink.”

He pecks her lips before going into her little bathroom. He smirked to himself wondering how he might shower the next morning. He was taller than the showerhead. He bends down to open up the cabinet and spots the box of condoms. It was opened, but not many were missing. Not the he was one to judge. Harry hooked up a lot. He grabs a couple, just in case they feel like getting frisky again later on, and heads back out. He rips the foil packet open and slides it on over his length. She bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Tell me something,” He starts as he gets back on the bed, between her legs, hovering over her body. “When you had me in your thoughts was it ever like this?”

He rubs his tip against her clit, getting her to moan out. He pushes into her entrance but doesn’t go much further until he gets his answer. His eyebrows were raised, looking at her.

“This is usually the part when I’d wake up.” She whispers. “Before anything good could really happen.” She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please.”

He kisses her as he pushes the rest of the way inside her. They both groan. She was so wet, even with the condom on, it still felt amazing. He was nice and snug inside her. He moves slowly at first to not hurt her. He hooks an arm under one of her legs to bring it up a little higher. He wanted to get in as deep as possible. She clutches at his shoulders as he drives it in.

“Oh my god.” She gasps as his tip brushes her g-spot. “Jesus Christ.” She grits her teeth.

“Ever had anyone like this before?” He says into her ear.

“Never this deep, shit.”

He sits up and puts both of her legs over his shoulders. His fingers press bruises into her thighs as he holds onto her. She looks up at him as her mouth falls open. He was ramming into her and it felt so good to fuck like this. She didn’t want to be treated delicately. What he was doing was amazing, but her clit was missing the friction, so her hand slides down to rub at it.

“Fuck.” He breathes as he watches her touch herself. He lets go of one of her thighs and moves her hand aside so he can rub it for her. Her head rolls back the second she feels his thumb on her.

“Just like that.” She pants. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts his response as he continues to fuck her. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he knew she was close. He rubs her a little faster, and watches as her body contorts under his.

“Let go, come on, show me how you do it, Y/N.”

That pushes her over the edge. She cries out as she comes around him. He rubs her still, but slows his pace to help her through it. She tightens around him again as she comes down from her bliss. He drops her legs and pulls out. He sits up against her headboard and pulls her into his lap. He doesn’t have her face him, though, he has her sit on him facing away. Her head rolls back against his shoulder once she sinks down on him. She uses her knees to push herself up and down on his cock. He bites down on her shoulder, licks up to just under her ear to suck on the tender skin again. His hands find her bouncing breasts, and he kneads them.

“Harry.” She groans.

“Feels good, love?”

“So good.” She turns her head and sticks her tongue out slightly so he’ll kiss her. His tongue meets hers and they practically slobber all over each other as her pace quickens on him.

His hands slide down to her hips to help her. He thrusts up into her to get into a rhythm. He could feel his orgasm bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, which makes her moan. She tightens around him. He wanted her to come again, to come with him, so he rubs her clit while she continues to bounce him.

“Shit, fuck, Harry!”

They come at the same time, both of them crying out form the intensity. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he lifts her off of him. She gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. He goes in after her to rid himself of the condom. She was about to throw on a t-shirt when he comes back out.

“Don’t bother.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll just come off again.”

“Oh.” She blushes and puts it back into her dresser.

He gets on the bed with her and pulls her close to his chest. His fingers run up and down her back lightly, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She rests one of her legs on top of his, and wraps her arm around his torso. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the energy to fuck him again so soon, especially when the rhythm of his heart beat was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes flutter closed. He looks down at her and smiles when he sees her lips parted. He kisses the top of her head, and slowly falls asleep himself.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up cozy, head stuffed into her pillow, blankets wrapped around her. It was darker than usual. Her eyes flutter open and see the rain falling down. She hears it tapping delicately against her windows. It was a normal Sunday morning, or it would have been if she hadn’t completely forgotten there was a warm body wrapped around her. She rolls over slowly not to disturb the stranger. She gasps to herself when she sees it really is Harry Styles, not just some guy that looked like him. She really took him home with her and she really fucked him. He pulls her closer to her and she sighs.

“Your bed’s comfy.” He mutters.

“Thanks, I’ve got one of those foam pads under the sheets. Makes a world of difference.”

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away slightly.

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all.” She smiles up at him. “If you don’t mind smelling like my fruity shampoo, that is.”

“You’re funny.” He chuckles again and stretches as he sits up. He rubs his eyes, and gets out of the bed. Y/N couldn’t help but ogle his naked body as he walks away. He pops his head out of the door frame to look at her. “Are you coming?”

“Oh…you wanted me to-“

“Obviously.” He scoffs. “Wouldn’t mind fucking you again, either.”

Normally she’d wrap herself in a blanket, but if he was going to be bold, then so was she. So she gets out of bed and struts over towards him. She brushes her teeth quickly as he uses some mouth wash. She gets the water in the shower going.

“Does that head detach? I don’t know if I can crouch for that long.” He laughs.

“Yeah, it comes right off, don’t worry.” She pulls back the curtain and they both get in.

She helps him wash up, scrubs her nails over his head as she washes out the shampoo, and once they’re both clean, he hoists her up against the wall, and kisses her. She was plenty wet for him, and he smiles against her as he slips a finger inside her.

“You were ready f’me, hm?”

“Guess so.” She nips at his bottom lip, which delights him.

“Mind if I just slip it in like this and pull out after?”

“That’s fine.” She smiles. “Wouldn’t mind actually being able to feel you.”

“Christ.” He groans, and then pushes his hard cock inside her. Her head rolls back against the tile as his lips attack to her throat.

It was a nice, passionate morning fuck. When they’re done she gets him a towel, and wraps one around herself. He watches as she runs around to make her bed back up. It was a small apartment, so any clutter just made it look even smaller. He grabs his phone out of his pants pocket, and sighs.

“Alright?” She asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. He comes to sit down next to her.

“Yeah, just a ton of missed calls and texts. Thought I made it pretty clear to Jeff I wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel last night.”

“Do you have a plane to catch or anything?”

“Not today, tomorrow though.”

She watches as he types away to respond to the dozen or so texts he had form various people.

“Would you like any coffee or anything? Juice?”

“Just a black coffee would be perfect if it’s not too much trouble, love.”

“Coming right up.”

His eyes flicker up to watch her bum and hips sway as she walks into the kitchen area. She fills up her Keurig to get his coffee going.

“No cream or sugar, just black?”

“Please.” He smiles. “Thanks.”

She nods and gets a mug down from her cabinet to place under the machine. She thinks he’s talking to her for a moment, but when she looks over she can see he’s on the phone.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m well aware, thanks.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m allowed to go out and have some fun.” He crosses a leg over the other so he can rest his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin up with his palm. “She’s making me a cup of coffee, is that alright? No, I don’t just carry those in my back pocket…” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Alright, bye.”

She comes over to him with a mug for him, and one for herself. She added a bit of cream to hers. She just couldn’t do black coffee.

“Thank you so much, feel like I’m about to get a headache.” He says, taking the mug from her, smacking his lips after he takes a sip.

“I have some aspirin if you need some.”

“Caffeine should work just fine, but thank you.”

“So, uh, not that I was listening in or anything, just, small space and all, but what don’t you carry around in your back pocket?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “An NDA, that’s all. Jeff’s gonna email one over to me any second I’m sure.”

“What do you need an NDA for?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”  She looks at him deeply confused. “I’m a very private person, and not that I think you’re the type to go around spouting your business, it’s just, well, you’re a fan and…”

“You need me to sign an NDA so I won’t tell anyone we fucked?”

“Basically, yeah. Sorry if that makes things a little awkward. It’s just to keep my personal life personal, that’s all.” He takes another sip of the coffee. “This is really good, what brand is this?”

“Green Mountain Coffee…it comes from Vermont.”

“It’s delicious, I’ll have to look into it.” He smiles, although she can tell she’s starting to feel uneasy. She’s painfully aware that this was just a drunk hookup, a one night stand. “Are you alright?” He puts a hand on her knee.

“M’fine, just a bit groggy.” She sips her own coffee.

“Well, I’m starved, you’ve gotta be too, right? What a good place to grab some breakfast around here?” He stands up and starts looking for his clothes.

“Um…there’s a place right down the street.”

“We’ll have to take a cab unless you have a really big umbrella.” He smirks as he pulls his boxers on.

“Do I have to sign an agreement saying I won’t talk about breakfast too, or?”

Harry sighs as he pulls his pants on. She looks at him as she sips her coffee.

“Guess I’ll find out when I read the fine print.” She stands up and walks back over to her kitchen area. He follows her there with his mug and sticks it in the sink.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s not, I just…I mean…what do you think I’m going to do? Go onto a blog and spill every detail about last night? As if I could remember every little thing.” She scoffs and rinses out her mug.

“You easily could. You have to understand, sometimes when stories slip or people feel like they know things about you, it’s harder to get deals or make business decisions. I want to be taken seriously, so I don’t post personal things on social media, and I have the people I hook up with sign NDA’s.”

“Well, maybe I should have you sign one for me then.” She says, crossing her arms. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How do I know our night together won’t be inspiration for your next love scenes? You’re quite descriptive in your works. You must take from real life when you’re writing those things.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll text Jeff and have him email me two, one for each of us. I won’t talk about you and you won’t talk about me. Now, can we please go get some breakfast?”

“Why do you even want to go anywhere with me if you’re so scared of people finding out?” She walks over to her dresser to pick out an outfit she wouldn’t mind getting wet in the rain.

“It’s one thing to be seen with someone at a diner, it’s another to have what you’re like in the bedroom aired out to millions of people.”

“It’ll be obvious we slept together. My neck is littered with kiss marks.” She taps over one of the spots. He watches as she wriggles a pair of panties up her legs, and then a pair of jeans. “You’re also wearing your clothes from last night.” She tosses him his button up.

“I don’t suppose you have a large t-shirt I could throw on?”

“I’m sure I could find one.” She find a bra and t-shirt of her own, and then rummages through her pajama drawer for one of her larger bed shirts. “Here.” She hands him the shirt. He puts it on and looks down at it.

“Cute.” He smiles. “You can keep mine, and I’ll keep this one, how’s that sound?”

“Guess I’m just glad that’s not my favorite one.” She grabs her raincoat and umbrella. She furrows her brows and then remembers where her rubber boots on. “Could you order an uber or something?”

“Sure.”

They get down to the street, and head into the car he ordered. The diner was busy when they got there, but since it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. Harry’s phone pings with the email from Jeff.

“So…I just need to digitally sign it?”

“Mhm.” He hands his phone over to her so she can read over everything. He rests his chin on his palm. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read over it so diligently before.”

“I’m a lawyer.” She mumbles.

“No shit.” He sits up, suddenly even more intrigued with her. “Good for you.”

“Well, I’m in law school, and I work as a para at a law firm, but I’m getting there.” She says as she uses her finger to sign her life away. “I’d like to read the one he sent to you for me.”

“Just swipe to the next email.”

She nods and looks it over. It was the same as her. She hands him back his phone and watches him sign it.

“I’d like both copies emailed over to me.”

“Alright, what’s your email?”

“I’ll put it in.” She takes his phone back and puts her information in, sending herself the copies. “There.” She crosses her arms. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually.”

A waitress comes over to them, and they both order scrambled eggs with bacon, potatoes, and toast. It’s quiet between them for a few moments. She looks out the window to watch the rain fall, and then looks back at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

“What am I doing here with you? You could have easily slipped out this morning, even last night…”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So…what is this, a consolation before we never see each other again?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?! I feel like I’m not even looking at a real person. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and I would have killed for the opportunity to sit down and have breakfast with you. I have so many questions about your work, and-“

“So, ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me all your questions. What can I answer that I haven’t already in an interview? You wanna know my thought process? Where and what I get inspired by? How long it takes me to write a book, a chapter even? I only have bullshit answers, to be honest. I keep notes on my phone for when I get inspired, and then when I’m able to be at my computer I’ll type for hours without stopping. It’s like I blackout or something. It feels like I didn’t even take a second to blink. I’ll work on multiple projects at the same time too. I have three other books I’m currently working, all with completely different topics and characters. I can’t shut my brain off, ever. I don’t know why I’m like this. Even when I go on a vacation to unplug, I have to keep a notebook with me to write things down. I started writing because I just needed to get everything out of my head. I feel a huge sense of relief when I’m done with a piece so I can just move on from it. I had to start my own publication because my content was going to be put in the same category as Fifty Shades, and I didn’t want that. Luckily, Jeff went to school for PR, and he helped me out, and now he’s my manager. He’s the best there is, but sometimes it would be nice to fuck a pretty girl and take her to breakfast without having to worry about every little thing.”

Before Y/N can respond their food is brought over. They both thank the waitress. She picks her for up and plays with her potatoes before looking at him.

“Not to mention, said pretty girl told me how much my work means to her, how it helps her sleep at night. Fuck, I mean, I thought I was going to melt into a fucking puddle right there. My anxiety gets bad at night too, I knew exactly where you were coming from, babe. I can’t tell you how many nights I try to go to sleep and can’t, so I just get up and go back to my computer until I pass out in my chair.” He blinks at her, as she still says nothing. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“I’m not sure what to say, I’m trying to take in everything you said and match it to the person you were yesterday at that signing. It’s an act, right? Your cool demeanor?”

“I have a stage presence for sure.” He sighs, and takes a bite of his bacon. “What am I gonna do, get up there and tell everyone that the fourth book took so long because I had to have surgery for carpal tunnel?”

“For someone who likes to be so private, you’re sure telling me a lot of personal things.”

“You signed something saying you wouldn’t discuss any of this, so I feel a little freer to explain myself. Have I totally ruined your perception of me? Is this a never meet your hero sort of moment?”

“Not at all.” She smiles. “You seem comfortable with me, which is nice. I like that I’m seeing this side of you, you’re more than just the suave guy I’ve seen in interviews, or listening to on podcasts. You’re a person, just like me.”

“Exactly, so you understand why I might want some privacy.”

“I do.” She nods and finally takes a bite of her food. “I’m sorry if I got a little pissy about it.”

“Don’t be, it’s always an awkward conversation to have.”

“So, how many women do you hook up with exactly? You’re making yourself sound like a player.” She chuckles.

“I mean…I’m a guy who has needs. I’m not gonna lie, I probably do it a little too much, but I don’t usually spend this much time with the person, or if I do…well…it’s not usually like this.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to actually have a conversation with you.” He shrugs. “You peaked my interest.”

“Clearly.” She smirks.

“At least I’ve never rubbed one out to the thought of a famous person.” He smirks back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you consider yourself famous?” She grins at him. “And I haven’t rubbed one out, it’s usually just a dream. Don’t flatter yourself, Harry.” She shakes her head.

“My bad, so I’ll just assume you get that wet for every guy you hook up with?”

Where was this conversation going, and why was it happening in such a public place? Was he trying to rile her up?

“I don’t think this is appropriate to talk about right now.” She whispers harshly.

He smirks and continues eating. They look at each other occasionally as they eat. The waitress comes over with the bill, and Harry throws some cash down on the table.

“Let me pay the tip at least.” She says, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t be silly, I put plenty down for the tip. I’ve got it.” He puts his hand over hers. “Seems like the rain’s stopped, wanna walk back?”

“Do you not need to be anywhere?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “Today’s my free day, isn’t that nice? I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and that’s all I have to worry about. So, I’m more than happy to walk you back home.”

She nods and follows him out of the diner.

“So, do I only get your email, or do I get your number too?”

“Why, so you can hit me up whenever you’re in the city?”

“Precisely.” He nudges her as she laughs. “Come on, I gave you mine.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even look…I would have been so embarrassed, you would have forgotten all about me. I don’t even know if I would have even had the courage to message you.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Did you manager know you just gave your number out like that?”

“God no, he’d murder me.” Harry chuckles. “Jeff’s great, but he’s way too serious.”

“So, maybe I’ll message you sometime.”

“I prefer chatting on the phone, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone can send a text, but a phone is, like, I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah, like, a phone is something you really need to make time for.”

She pouts at him and looks at him with big eyes. They stop once they’re in front of her building.

“I come back to the city in two weeks, I really would like to see you again.”

“What are you coming back for?”

“Another signing. This one sold out, and I felt bad. I think anyone who wants to see me should.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have anything that I do if it weren’t for the people who supported me.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, I guess we could see each other again.”

“Great, just make sure you call me, okay? Then I can call you, and we’ll just be two people calling each other sometimes.” He blushes.

“Why are you so romantic?” She laughs and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I wish I knew. It’s a blessing and a curse, I think.” He sighs and cups her cheeks. He leans in and kisses her, she happily kisses him back and pulls him closer.

“Do you, um, need to go back to your hotel now?”

“Not necessarily, what’d you have in mind?” He raises an eyebrow at her. She leans up and whispers in his ear, making his cheeks grow hotter. He looks at her, a little stunned. “I definitely have time for that.”

“I figured you would.” She winks at him and yanks him into her building.

She wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. Everything still felt like a dream, only better. Even when Harry had to go off to his next signing, she slept better than she ever had. She called him late one night, much to his surprise, and they spoke for hours. She didn’t have to listen to the same words over and over to fall asleep, she had him, the real him.

[dracereads]

I read The Affair of the Mysterious Letter by Alexis Hall and was delighted by it. What would you recommend for my second Alexis Hall book based on that one? I know Boyfriend Material is popular and I'm down to try it but I'm curious about other fantasies, if he has any others

I saw this on my way out the door this morning! I am sorry that it took so long to get to.

Anyway, I want to say what Alexis Hall book you want to read next should go entirely on your taste. Yes so very helpful Drace. Let me ply some more information here: I haven't read the Mysterious Letter yet, but it's on my roadmap because it is one of my requirements to finish the year out. However, I know that one was based off of Sherlock Holmes. I don't know how scandalous that was in terms of angst and romance. So it's very hard for me to get a gauge on what's a step down and what's a step up from it.

Some books of Alexis' are more spicier (smuttier) than others, and some deep in angst and trauma while others are fluffier in comparison. Some are also super nerdy and action oriented? So you have you pick of the litter in terms of content and catalogue. He's all over the damn place. He hasn't written a full fledged novel in a fantasy setting I'm not sure. At least that's not the impression I've gotten from the books I have yet to read. If you're looking for WLW, then the only serial he's got right now that features a prominent WLW love story is Kate Kane. Kate Kane is sort of a "what if one of those supersue girls in the vampire books grew up and became a lesbian?" It's very comedic as well as entertaining. I enjoyed them. That's supernatural & contemporary fiction. so lots of witches, vampires, werewolves. I know that the prosperity trilogy is steam punk based, but that one I have not gotten started on yet, and it seems to be his most obscure as I have not met too many people who have heard about Prosperity, let alone read it. Anyway, Most of his other stuff is more contemporary than fantasy. Spires is about a bunch of different mlm relationships of varying degrees of angst and raunchiness, ardent st. ives is... basically more or less a gay 50 shades, Winner Bakes is about a cooking show competition romance, and Something Something is about the Fantastic Tartelton twins and their weird notions of romance in the regency era. The other one that might interest you might be a Lady for a Duke because it is a more serious novel... almost fantasyesque but very much sort of rooted in a psuedo-reality. It would be like what if regency times had the same sort of view on gender and disability that our era does... and explores that. I feel ALFAD compliments the Sherlockian elements in the Mysterious Letter. Anyway, Boyfriend Materials is actually a very good place to start since the book isn't that spicy romantic wise (There is a fade to black sex scene, but it spares no qualms about dirty jokes and metaphors) and you'll get a good feel for how Alexis structures his modern and contemporary romances. Depending on how you feel about it, you can further attune your tastes to jump into one others. However, if you can't handle BM's level of spice, I don't think I've read a book by him that is LESS salacious in nature than BM so far. The reason why London Calling (BM & Tuesday's HM) is so popular is because in terms of what Alexis can do and has done, it is the most moderate and middle of the road. There is definitely some character angst there, but it's not enough to off put someone who is trying to build trust in a new author... and he does a very good job of convincing you that the characters will be happy enough at the end of the engagement... and well, who doesn't love an accidental fake loves to real lovers plot?? and Enemies to lovers is always a catch. I hope this helps. If you have any more like comments to add to it, I'd love to hear them. If you want recs outside of Alexis Hall as well, feel free to just like. commentate on it.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive​ @summersong69​ @titty-teetee​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics​ @omgkatinka​ @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0​ @tumblnewby  @suavechops​ @radkesgirl83​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @heartfelt-pen​ @auds24  @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight​ @wilma-g  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway​  @sugarpenchant​ @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya @oqueequesentes-borboletas @kebabgirl67 @indigosaurus (some of you new readers didn’t ask, but I took the liberty. If you want me to remove you, I totally will without hard feelings.)

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Lost

Harry Potter AU 

Request Fic

Summary:  Regulus did everything he could to ruin his friendship with you. He turned cold, insensitive, and cruel. Now the two of you are paired up for a potions project. Old feelings and wounds are bound to open again. Regulus has to learn to accept that "mudbloods" aren't bad and loving one isn't wrong. Will he be willing to let go of his family's ideals or lose you forever?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- angst 

Song at the beginning: The Suffering by  Song by Coheed and Cambria

_______

Is there word or right to say Even in this old-fashioned way? Go make your move girl. I'm not coming home. Would things have changed if I could've stayed? Would you have loved me either way? Dressed to the blues Day to day with my collar up. Decision sits so make it quick A breath inhaled from an air so sick I cursed the day that I'd learned Of the web you span You had your hold till bleeding If it was up to me I would've figured you out Way before the year clocked out Oh, I hope you're waiting I hope you're waiting

People change and hurt people hurt other people in return…

That sentence summed up so many things in your life at the moment. Your eyes turned to the Slytherin table where Regulus Black sat with his friends. The boy that you had a crush on since 1st year changed and not in a good way. He had gone from being somewhat kind to downright vicious. After he started making closer friends with Evan Rosier, a few years before Regulus had turned further into his “pure blood nature.” The last thing that he wanted was a “mudblood” like you for a friend. Hearing those words leave his mouth still hurt you to this day and that had been over two years ago. Why you let it both you, you weren’t sure. You were just Lily Evan’s mudblood little sister...nothing impressive (his words, not yours).

You frowned, scowling at Evan Rosier. He sat telling some animated story that had Regulus, Snape, and Barty Crouch Jr laughing. Evan was a topic of rage for you. If Evan hadn’t stuck his nose in your friendship with Regulus then there was a possibility that the two of you would have remained friends to this day.

Screw Evan and everything that he stands for!

It was Snape that looked in your direction. He gave you a polite smile before looking back to his friends. He was the one boy at that table that was kind to you. Granted it had to do with his insane crush on your sister but he was still nice all the same. Now that Lily wouldn’t talk to him after him calling her a mudblood, he used you to get information on Lily. “How is Lily?” “Is she doing okay? What about you?” (Those were Snape’s big questions (when his Slytherin buddies weren’t around).

That whole little table would shit a monkey if they knew that Regulus and I were sleeping together....then.

You thought with a cold glare. Sex was all that there was to it. Regulus liked to play rough and you were glad to go along with it. You were, after all in Regulus’ mind, the little Hufflepuff who he could easily manipulate into whatever he wanted. At first, it was just seeing what all of the hype was about. Was sex really as good as everyone went on about? In short, yes. It was exactly what everyone said and then some. Lovemaking turned into Regulus developing some major kinks.

You longed for the day when Regulus was a sweet quiet boy who enjoyed your company. Now he was something else and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“My favorite hufflebuddy!”

Your thoughts were interrupted when Sirius plopped down beside you and pulled you into an overdramatic hug. Everything that Sirius did was overdramatic but you didn’t mind. He was getting you out of your head.

“And my favorite gigantic lapdog.”

You said with a smile earring a bigger grin from Sirius as James plopped down on your other side.

“Mini-red, you are looking a little gloomy this fine morning.”

You were used to Sirius and James calling you “mini-red.” It didn’t matter how many times that you told them that neither Lily nor yourself enjoyed being called big and mini-red it never stopped. You learned to accept it as some form of unusual endearment and roll with it.

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind with this potions class. Slughorn is going crazy.”

James looked thoughtful as he reached across the table for a cup of juice.

“Why do you think that I bailed out of positions as soon as I could? Lils seems to love him. From what I have heard he adores both Lily and yourself.”

You nodded.

“He does. He also adores Regulus.”

Sirius frowned

“Like my brother, Regulus?”

“How many others are there?”

You questioned. Sirius chuckled before his expression darkened.

“Watch out for him, Y/n. Just go with me on it.”

You couldn’t help but notice the expression on Sirius’ face went from jovial ready to prank someone to dark and depressed.

“What’s going on with him?”

You asked, cautiously. Sirius didn’t respond but instead, James did.

“Sirius believes that Regulus is now a death eater.”

“Believes? I know. I mean look at him! He looks like the perfect death eater. Plus all of his little friends are so why wouldn’t he join the crowd?”

James, Sirius, and yourself turned to look at Regulus who was staring at you three. You were afraid to look at him. The last thing that you wanted to do was meet his dark gaze. Since Regulus started changing you were scared of him. If he was a death eater, you would be someone on his list. Why would he want to be kind to a filthy mudblood?

(Meanwhile)

Regulus’ attention had turned to you when Sirius started hugging you like some kind of stuffed animal. Why that he cared so much he wasn't sure. Regulus didn’t even want to admit to himself that he cared for you. You were everything that his family trained him to despise. Yet here he was having some kind of weird fluttering feelings in his stomach when you were near. He hated you yet he wanted you...it made no sense.

“Why does she have to be so fucking beautiful?”

Regulus thought with a glare. He wanted nothing more than to walk across the great hall and shove you against the wall.

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was jealous of Sirius’ friendship with you. Regulus was jealous of all the Marauders for their friendship with you. You were their little pet Hufflepuff when you were his first! He was the one that made love to you the first time. You were his lover and now Sirius seemed to be moving in on what was his.

“It’s your own fault that she got scared of you.”

Regulus’ mind supplied. He had taken extra steps to scare you away. Whether it be his unkind words or dark distant stares, you finally edged away. Regulus also didn’t want to admit that it was because he called you a stupid mudblood in front of all of his friends.

“Don’t think on it, Regulus.”

Regulus’ thoughts were interrupted by Snape’s voice. He looked up quickly.

“What are you talking about?”

He questioned. Snape motioned to you.

“Y/n Evans. You don’t need a companion Hufflepuff. I know that she was something to you a few years ago…”

“I was a stupid child. I don’t have any feelings for the mudblood girl. The same could be said about you and Y/n’s sister.”

Snape’s mouth formed a hard line. Regulus knew all about Snape and Lily’s friendship falling apart. He saw it happen.

“I’m not talking about myself. I am talking about you. We have enough duties to the dark lord to perform. If you were to be swayed by the girl, you would both be killed.”

Regulus scowled as he noticed your eyes flicker in his direction before quickly looking away. You were scared of him. Regulus wanted to be thrilled but at the same time, it was gut-wrenching. What Snape nor anyone else seemed to know was after Regulus ruined your friendship; he wrote you letters every day for three months. He sent letters and little gifts that would appeal to your quirky personality in hopes that he could win you back. You ignored everything.

He assumed that it was all for the best but it made the “gentle” side of Regulus sob in fury. What you didn’t know was you were the first person in his life that showed him any form of love. Seeing you shove his letter in the rubbish bin or deep into your bag with little to no expression on your face hurt him horribly!

Regulus swallowed back the rage and made a mental note that he needed to stop being so wishy-washy and focus on everything being for the best. There was no way that Regulus as a death eater could have a muggle-born girlfriend. It would be the biggest crock of shit known to wizardkind!

It's for the best…

Half an hour later you walked into Potions with a book in front of your face. You had been gleefully reading some romance book that Marlene McKinnon recommended to you. This was the closest that you would seemingly get to a healthy and not toxic relationship.

Sitting down you put the book up as Professor Slughorn stood up. He gave all of his favorite students his usual friendly good morning.

“Ms. Evans, you did a wonderful job on the last test. I can see that a wonderful brain is a quality with the Evans family.”

You smiled, happily as Professor Slughorn put your most recent test in front of you. Perfect score.

“I am assigning partners for our next project. I know that I typically let everyone pick partners but I think this time we will be doing something different. It's time to see how other people in the classroom work together.”

You internally muttered “uh oh” under your breath. For projects, you always teamed up with a Ravenclaw girl named Emilia Abbott. The two of you had made a common ground of helping each other keep perfect grades on Potions. Up until now, your plan worked like a charm.

“Okay, Mr. Black, I am putting you with Y/n Evans. The two of you have the highest grade in this class. I want to see what amazing things the two of you can do together.”

WHAT?!

You nearly shrieked the moment that Slughorn made that comment. Was it too late to drop potions? Would you really need this class after all? You could always take double potions next year, right?

After Slughorn paired everyone up, you didn't move to where Regulus was sitting. In fact, you didn’t even look in his direction. If he wanted to be your partner then he could get his ass up and come to you. Maybe he would magically forget who you were. Forget the fact that you spent a lot of time underneath him in the room of requirement with his hand on your ass.

What you didn’t see was Regulus staring at you with a frown on his face. He was waiting for you to get up. Instead, you didn’t move. You sat like a little statue staring dead ahead and trying to hide under your red hair.

Rolling his eyes, Regulus finally stood up. He walked across the room and sat down at the table that you were occupying. You didn’t look up nor meet his face.

“We do have to talk to each other, you know.”

Regulus commented. You finally met his eyes. The expression on your face was wary and your guard was up. No longer were you the happy girl that Regulus considered his Hufflepuff buddy. You weren’t the girl that went to him when someone was giving you a hard time or the girl who would try telling him a joke but giggle the whole time. Now you were silent.

“I suppose we do.”

You replied. Regulus had forgotten how much he missed your voice...your sweet gentle voice that was not loud but instead that remained even and soft even if you were mad.

“What potion do you want to do the report on?”

Regulus asked.

“I don’t know.”

You said, sounding almost lost. Since Regulus had sat down, you tried not to look at him. Your vision had gone from his green tie, to his hands, to his family ring, to his left arm. Was there a dark mark under this dress shirt? You couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius was right.

“Look, I am not going to fail this project because you are acting like a clueless tart.”

Your green eyes immediately met his. Regulus was waiting for you to cuss him out but he knew that it wouldn’t happen. He had barely heard you say the word “fuck.” It didn’t matter how much he tried to get you to step outside of your comfort zone, you wouldn’t say some words.

“What? Have something to say?”

He questioned. You quickly stood and gathered your books before storming out of the class without another word.

_______

@fairywriter-oracle

@amelie-black

@swinginsoulbailiffrascal

@realgaytrash

@sunles (here’s you another one) 

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

@li0nh34rt

@marichromatic

@tas898

@maggioli-m

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@stuckinsaudi1

@shitfaceddaniel

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

@sprnaturallover

[ace-trainer-risu]

oh here! i’ll come ask you for book recs lol. do you have any spooky and/or autumn-y book recs? or just your fave books :)

First of all, I'm sorry this took me SO long to answer. I want to say I've been busy but it's just been general [waves hand vaguely] life.

ANYWAY thank you for asking! I actually don't read scary stuff a lot b/c I'm a wimp, but I have a few spooky/autumnal books up my sleeves! Let's see what we've got!!

1) The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

Let me just start by saying that Sarah Waters is one of my absolute favorite authors ever! All her novels are suspenseful, twisty historical novels with great female and queer characters. Although, fair warning, actually The Little Stranger is like her one novel that isn't queer, but it is VERY good. If you read The Little Stranger and like it, please read Fingersmith and/or The Paying Guests.

The Little Stranger is set in the countryside of post-WWII England and follows a mild-mannered doctor as he becomes increasingly involved in the lives of the family living in the local, increasingly decrepit, possibly haunted mansion. Think Downton Abbey but creepy. Strange things keep happening inside the house, from dog bites to mysterious sounds to creepy black spots. Literally just typing that gave me goosebumps. It seems like someone may be out to get the family, but who...or what? Is it simply the ghosts of their own painful memories, or is something more? Sarah Waters is excellent at lush, intricate historical detail, and she leans into that here to create an atmosphere of slowly building dread and horror and mystery.

That being said, as a person who isn't normally a fan of horror, I don't think this book is too scary. It's more of an atmospheric, psychological horror than a jump-scare, bloody horror. It's not a book that will give you nightmares (probably), but you might lie awake thinking about it.

Also. Pro-tip. As a haunted(?) house story, the house is obviously fairly central to the story. Dear fellow Americans, keep in mind that the British refer to the floors of a building differently than us. For Americans, the ground-level floor is called the first floor, the floor above that the second floor, etc. For the British, the ground-level floor is the ground floor, and the floor above that is the first floor, etc. There's all sorts of creepy references to characters hearing noises above them on the first floor, but I was just like, Why are they always in the basement?

2) Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno Garcia

This and the above are two very different books, and yet they are both set in the mid-1900s and both are about weird, creepy, maybe-haunted houses. What can I say, I like gothic fiction.

After our heroine, Noemi, receives a bizarre, borderline incoherent letter from her beloved cousin, she sets out to visit her in the literally decaying mansion she resides in with her husband and his new family deep in the countryside of Mexico. All Noemi wants to do is persuade her cousin to come back home with her, but her cousin's new in-laws are very determined not to let that happen...or to let Noemi leave either. Secrets abound in the bizarre house and even creepier nearby cemetery, and soon Noemi finds that she too is suffering from bizarre dreams and visions...although, are they just dreams?

This book is so weird, but in such a good way? I read it for a book club and every week we had increasingly bizarre theories about what was going on, we were googling alchemy and fungi and St George, and some of our theories were even right. Although definitely not all. Another very twisty one that keeps you guessing.

In terms of scariness, interestingly I think there's more overtly creepy and horrifying moments in this novel than The Little Stranger, but I found TLS more overall scary? But that may be because I read it quickly, which I think is the ideal setting for suspenseful stuff, and I read Mexican Gothic over a longer amount of time since it was for a book club. This one does have some more typical horror elements to it, but I don't think it's more creepy than terrifying.

3) The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey

I listened to this one as an audiobook and the audiobook is excellent so would recommend that, but have no doubt it would also be great to physically read.

Oh my god this book...it's more thriller than horror, but I think it fits the brief. There were multiple moments listening to this book that I literally gasped or said "OH MY GOD!" out loud, and there are moments which are very creepy and horrifying. There's a particular scene in the backyard... Again, incredibly suspenseful and twisty. And the character development and character psychology is just! really really good! There's also really interesting and knotty feminist stuff which is a lot more complicated and nasty than some of the "girlboss" stuff which is popular right now.

Super minimal summary: All you really need to know is that it is a sci fi novel about a scientific researcher trying to pick up her life after her marriage has imploded, only for everything to go BATSHIT WRONG. Trust me, that's all you need to know, it's better to go into this not knowing what's going to happen or what to expect. I had no clue what this novel was about when I started it, and holy shit. Very good book, absolutely recommend this if you want some super suspenseful, creepy sci fi that will make you say "oh my GOD" repeatedly.

Okay, shifting gears a little now b/c autumn isn't just spooky, it's also cozy and restful and daydreamy!

4) The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic by Emily Croy Barker

This isn't maybe a cozy book per se, but it's a great book to cuddle down with on a dreary day and lose yourself in. If you've ever asked yourself, "What would it be like if you crossed Pride and Prejudice with Howl's Moving Castle except the wizard was way worse but somehow still sexy" - then you should read this book! I actually came across this book b/c I was like, I wanna read a book that's a portal fantasy but for adults, and this book was like OH here's everything you wanted.

It's about a grad student, Nora, who has totally stalled out on her dissertation and is at a shitty wedding when she accidentally wanders through a portal into a beautiful, fantastical fairy world. At first, everything is amazing and literally perfect...but surprise surprise, not all as is it seems, and soon everything goes to, how should I put it, shit. Nora escapes, but rather than returning home, she finds herself trapped in a far more dreary realm. But not one without it's own charms and it's own magic, and Nora finds herself the student-slash-sorta-captive of the crochety, sexy, maybe-killed-his-wife magician Aruendiel* and she begins to learn magic herself.

Unlike the above books, this is not a fast-paced, twisty book, and I think if you go into this expecting high fantasy along the lines of Game of Thrones, you may be disappointed. It's not really a typical high-fantasy novel, it's more of a cross of an 18th/19th century realist novel, a fairy tale, and a fantasy novel. But if you want that, then it's REALLY good! I loved this book! And the magic in it is so cool, something about the way its described feels so visceral and real and like you could really do it if you just tried hard enough. There is a romance and it's totally, intentionally hashtag problematic, but it's very laid back, very slow burn, so I think even if you aren't a person who digs romance you can still enjoy this. If you're looking for a feminist-leaning fantasy novel that you can just sink into and lose yourself in, this is the perfect book. You will long to magically fix broken plates.

5) The Ruthless Lady's Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner

Honestly I can't even justify why I think this one is an autumn book. It simply is. It's autumn colored in my head. It is the coziest book I have ever read about necromancy and crime. Also I just want to recommend it. This is another one that I listened to as an audiobook and it's also a good audiobook, for those who are interested. But it also means I will not be able to spell absolutely any of the character's names.

This novel follows Delly, an enterprising young scoundrel of a fire witch with a teeny tiny gin habit as she attempts to support herself and her hot-mess of a mom in the roughest neighborhoods of Fantasy-City-That-I-Can't-Remember-The-Name-Of. Lice...gate? When Delly comes across an advertisement for a bodyguarding job for young women for a hefty fee, it seems like the answer to definitely not all but at least some of her problems. She accepts, along with an interesting assortment of other sorcerous young ladies, including a wonderfully bitchy Absentia (my love), a young woman who can turn into a boar, boar girl's necromancer mother, and the very sexy part-troll Winn, who in my imagination looks like Gwendoline Christie and talks like Miranda Hart. Which. Perfect woman. Winn being a fine, wealthy young lady, Delly can't help but think to herself that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Winn happened to fall in love with her and carried her off to be rich and spoiled the rest of her life.

Of course, things quickly don't go to plan, and soon Delly and her companions find herself caught up in wicked schemes of murder, drugs, and an undead mouse named Buttons who says BONG. I love Buttons SO MUCH.

This book is just a silly romp of a novel which worms into your heart and your brain. It's fun and cute and gay, and also it made me cry. I haven't stopped thinking, "Not quite regulation hammerball" since I listened to it like half a year ago.

Also, while I'm here, this novel is set in the same world as and features a few of the same characters as Unnatural Magic. Which is also a hell of a book. Literally the best bisexual relationship I have ever fuckin read. It's a winter book tho, so I simply can't go into it here.

Aaaaand...that it's! Happy autumnal reading :)