#in the end i guess it comes down to whichever ending is most fitting (and possibly least lame) to you

[autistickfigure]

by the way.. i dont know if ive said this but there is a kind of high chance that there isnt actually a solution to the BOB timeloop. such a thing kind of hangs on him being Not a pessimist

[mysterious-ocarina]

No Control

marauder!Sirius Black x fem!reader

(A/N 1, im american so i’ll prolly get alot of british slang wrong, or just call stuff by what americans say) ( A/N 2, this is kinda an au where Sirius doesn't move in with James and is stuck with the Black family. I had a lot of trouble figuring out what family to put the reader in that would fit my plot and I just ended up putting you in the nott family. I guess if you really wanna think about it (pls don't think too hard about it), your brother is the father of theo nott?) (A/N 3, check this out if anyone wants an explanation of why i've been gone from tumblr for so long)

Warnings: definitely angsty but with some sprinkles of fluff, lots of mentions of abuse (nothing graphic is shown, it's just described to have happened a lot in the past), this is an arranged marriage trope but not enemies to lovers trope, lots of misogyny (lately i've been feeling angry at the world and it's views of women so here is me trying to comfort myself. Sirius black is a woman lover fr). let me know if there is anything else i need to tag cuz this is my most serious fic yet

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(5.6k words)

Sirius Black. A name that's known by the majority of the Hogwarts population. And a face that is known (maybe a little too personally) by many wizards and witches at Hogwarts. But not to you.

You've only ever heard about the notorious Sirius black and the gang of hooligans called the Marauders. You've never got to meet any of them personally. You occasionally would see some of them around, but never Sirius. As a Slytherin, you often ran into his brother, Regulus, but you've never really talked to him either, only ever exchanging pleasantries. 

It was actually kind of surprising that you've never talked to the Blacks before. You both came from pure blood, supremacist families and both you and Sirius were known to be a bit rebellious against your families (or just rebellious in general).

But none of that matters, when your parents force you to come home for the holidays and basically shatter your resolve. 

At Hogwarts, away from the prying eyes of your family, you were most like yourself. Rebellious, outgoing, funny, and even kind. But under the roof of your family's expensive manor, you were nothing more than a quiet, obedient little girl, who's value was determined by whichever man was in charge of her. The perfect, pureblood daughter.

Just as your mother was and is, you are basically a slave to your own blood, specifically your brother and father. And as soon as you're married (arranged to a pure blood. no doubt, without your consent) you'll have to be an obedient little wife for your husband. 

The perfect, doting, obedient, docile, pureblood wife. It was all a load of rubbish, you thought, but you would keep the facade up in order to keep the abuse at bay. You learned pretty early on that speaking up for yourself and speaking out of turn was not going to be tolerated.

You were silently eating dinner with your family. Your father and brother were quietly speaking about matters that even if you and your mother cared, neither of you would be allowed an opinion on.

“Honey, we’ll be having important guests for tomorrow's dinner. So make sure you look your absolute best,” your mother spoke to you. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing the “show” you both would have to put on in front of guests.

“Okay. Am I allowed to know who these guests are?” you swallowed down your food. You were filled with nerves, thinking about what kind of important guests you were going to have.

Your mother bent down closer to your ear, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this-” she shot a quick look to your father to make sure he wasn’t listening, “but it’s the Black family. I’m not sure why they are coming. All I know is that it’s important business with one of their sons.”

You put your fork down on your plate, placing your hands down on your lap in front of you. You let your thoughts wander and only grew more worried. What kind of important business did one of the Black brothers have with your family? To help a little with your nerves, your mother placed a comforting hand on yours before going back to her meal.

The rest of your night was uneventful after that, until you went to bed. You stayed awake for longer than you should have, your mind way too loud to allow you to sleep. You ran through a list in your mind about the millions of different “important business” that the Black family could have with yours. But none of it made sense why they would eat dinner with us. Usually important business was settled in your father’s study, as it was improper for the ladies to be present.

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and then the next day would start. You woke up late, which was extremely unappreciated by your brother, who was expecting his morning coffee like usual. You were promptly punished, not only by being woken up by him screaming at you, but also with a beating.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find an appropriate outfit for the dinner that would cover the red marks and newly forming bruises on your arms. Your mother lessened the pain of the marks a little during the day but there wasn’t much else that you could do.

Sometimes when you both sat and drank tea, you would often dream together about running away from all of this. The blood supremacy, controlling men, and just downright evil families. But those thoughts and dreams were quickly quelled when the sound of the men's voices could be heard, calling for the maids- I mean women.

Both you and your mom knew, these were only dreams. It was impossible for purebloods to leave the life that they were born into.

You and your mother waited in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Your dress was rubbing against the lashes on your skin, making you scratch your arms in irritation but soon stopped when your mothers hand landed on yours.

“You’ll only make it hurt worse. Plus, you know you can show any discomfort in front of the guests,” she said softly. She was trying her best to sound comforting but it only served to remind you of the show you both are forced to put on and the lives you’re stuck living.

A knock was heard and muscle memory forced wide, fake smiles onto both of your faces. Your mother opened the door and welcomed the Black family, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Black. I hope you had safe travels here.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold, you were in front of them offering to take their coats. They handed them to you as Mrs. Black spoke, “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Nott.”

“My daughter will show you to the dining room while I finish up making dinner,” your mother informed before quickly making her way towards the kitchen.

After you finished hanging up Mr. and Mrs. Black’s coats, you finally had the chance to look at the two Black brothers. Being in his house, you immediately recognized Regulus, who gave you a tight smile. You then looked over to who you assumed was Sirius.

He certainly was as attractive as the girls at Hogwarts always seemed to make him seem. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He was looking toward the ground, still keeping his posture ramrod straight. He had the same look and body language as someone who had just been beaten for disobedience. A look you were familiar with.

Before anyone could get angry with you, you spoke up, respectfully, “If you would follow me, please.”

With your head down, you brought the family to the dining room. Your father and brother both stood up to shake hands with the Blacks. You stood behind your seat, waiting for the men to sit down first. Your father and Mr. Black sat down and engaged in conversation. You watched Regulus take the chair next to his father and looked to see where Sirius was. You were surprised to find him right next to you.

You backed up, unsure why he was standing there. Of course, you would give up your seat if he asked you to. But all he did was pull the chair out and motion for you to sit down. You sat down and thanked him as he pushed the chair in, “Thank you, young master Black.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw your father give a nod at your use of the title. Salazar, you sounded like a damned house elf. But that was the proper way you were to address him.

Sirius scrunched his nose at the title but gave you an understanding smile, “You’re welcome.”

He surprised you once more by taking the seat directly next to yours. You kept your mouth shut, knowing it was best to keep your curious thoughts to yourself, but you did shoot him a kind smile.

Dinner started without a hitch, conversation mostly being between Mr. Black and your father, your mother and Mrs. Black conversing a little bit with each other too. You, your brother, and both Black brothers mostly stayed silent and ate the meal.

Throughout the entire dinner, when nobody was looking, you had been rubbing at your irritated arm in discomfort. You don’t know how long Sirius had noticed but he grabbed your hand under the table just as you were going to bring it back up again. He continued to eat his meal with his other hand, looking like he wasn’t holding your hand under the table at the moment.

At your confused glance, he leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know what you’re doing. It’s just going to make it hurt more, the more you keep messing with it. Just squeeze my hand instead.”

He went back to eating, glancing around to find that no one noticed him whispering to you. You squeezed his hand a bit hard as you went back to eating too. Instead of wincing or doing anything to show discomfort, all he did was rub his thumb soothingly on yours.

The butterflies Sirius stirred up in you was enough to distract you from your irritating arm for the rest of the dinner.

“Now,” your father started, rubbing his napkin on his mouth and setting it down on the table, (the universal sign for “stop eating and listen to me”). “Mr. Black and I have recently come to an agreement.”

Sirius squeezed your hand in comfort as his father spoke up, “Seeing as Ms. Nott is the same age as my Sirius, we have arranged for the two of you to be married. It will be after the both of you graduate from Hogwarts.”

Those words echoed in your head as you looked up to the two fathers in shock. Your silverware clattered as it fell from your hand onto your plate. You must have been breaking the bones in Sirius’ hand, holding it as tight as you were.

Despite the fact that you knew it was a bad idea, your adrenaline forced you to speak up, “You can’t do that, father. You can’t just force me to marry someone that I just met.”

The tears in your eyes didn’t fall, years of “training” keeping them from falling.

Your brother gave you a harsh glare at your disrespect. Suddenly your father stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Staring straight at you, his commanding voice not loud but still thundering all the same, “I can, and I will. Do not forget your place in this family and this world. You will do as I say until you are married. Then you will be your husband’s to command.”

In a haste, you let go of Sirius’ hand, placing your hands on the table to stand up. Sirius, thinking quickly, kept you from getting up by grabbing your legs under the table. That didn’t stop your mouth from speaking harshly, “I am nobody’s to command or control.”

Before you could say anything more, your father reached across the table and slapped you across the face. You held your cheek in shock. He’s hit you before but never in front of guests. The entire table sat in shocked silence.

You looked down at your lap, willing your tears not to fall. You noticed Sirius’ hands clenched in his lap, he looked like he was shaking in anger, but his face had a practiced neutral expression. Regulus’ eyes were wide as he looked at you but had no other reaction at the scene that just transpired. The both of them knew not to speak up.

Your brother had a satisfied smirk on his face. You could just hear the thoughts in his head right now. Thank Salazar, someone put her in her place, his face screamed.

Your father sat down and looked towards Mr. Black, “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I hope you can forgive me for her impudence.”

Mr. Black simply waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s alright. I understand how women are.”

Picking up his whiskey glass, your father sighed, “It’s a shame we can’t put off the marriage to fix her. Maybe your son will be able to crack her.”

Mr. Black took a swig of his whiskey too, “We can only hope. If not, I can think of a curse that surely helped to fix up my Sirius.”

Sirius tensed up next to you. Your father had never used the Cruciatus Curse on you, but it was clear what Mr. Black was referring to and your father seemed to quite enjoy the idea. The two men simply laughed as if that curse wasn’t named an Unforgivable Curse. They laughed, as if your pain was nothing more than entertainment to them.

The dinner went back to normal for the two men and your brother, not noticing the tension felt between the rest of the group. This time, you grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table and rubbed it soothingly. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed your hand.

Losing your appetite, you spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, holding hands with Sirius. Your thoughts ran completely wild. You were going to be married to him, for the rest of your life, and you had only spoken once. You didn’t even speak. He whispered to you and you listened. Thinking more about it, there are worse boys that you could have been forced to marry.

At Hogwarts, Sirius was known for being rebellious and against his family's traits and values. Salazar, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, the opposite of his entire family. But what if that was just in the public eye. You didn’t know anything about Sirius except for what you’ve heard from others. For all you knew, the moment you and he were alone, he would revert back to his family’s pureblood values and abuse you just as most pureblood husbands did to their wives.

No, you quickly thought, stop it. You tried to think about the entire situation with a rational head. Throughout the entire dinner, he did nothing harsh towards you. He offered comfort when your arm was bothering you. He kept you from standing when you argued with your father (who knows how much worse the situation could have escalated if you actually, physically stood up to him). He did his best to offer you comfort without your families knowing it.

He’s not an abuser, you rationalized with yourself. You felt the way he tensed up at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. He would not be like your father or your brother.

After dinner, you were sent straight up to your room. Before you were separated, Sirius softly spoke to you, “Don’t worry, darling.”

His smile reassured you by a fraction, as you got ready for bed. Maybe all of it won’t be so bad.

You didn’t see Sirius, or his family, at all the rest of the holidays. The next time you did see him was on the train back to Hogwarts. You were simply looking for an empty carriage to settle in, when you noticed Sirius coming towards you.

He grabbed your suitcase and brought it to what you presumed was the carriage he was going to be in. You simply followed him, shrinking under the glare that some of his fangirls were throwing your way.

Once the door was shut and you were alone, he finally spoke up, “So, how are you?”

You sat in the seat opposite of him. You were unsure how to proceed, so you took the safe option and responded, “I’m fine, master Black.”

He opened his mouth in shock, before quickly wiping the look from his face, he basically pleaded, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But-” you went to protest, but he cut you off.

“At least, don’t call me that when we aren’t near our families,” he dismissed what you were going to say. All you could do was stare at him. It really did seem he wasn’t like his family.

Growing embarrassed under your stare, he shyly spoke back up, “I hope you know that you can act like you normally do when you’re around me.”

You looked away from him, face flushing, “This is how I normally act.”

He leveled you with a look, “We both know that’s not true. I don’t know you well but I’m sure you have a number of choice words to call me.”

Seeing the amused smirk on his face, your facade broke. You slightly smirked right back at him, “I don’t have any words to call you… Our fathers on the other hand…”

Sirius’ smirk turned into an almost awestruck smile. Before he could say anything back at you, a gaggle of boys had burst into the carriage.

“Pads, you’ll never guess who sent me a letter during break,” James Potter excitedly said. He went to sit across from his friend only to just now notice you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Who’s this?” James asked, sitting next to Sirius and throwing his arm around him.

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin followed James into the carriage, taking their seats. Everyone gave you curious but welcoming looks.

Sirius gave you a look, which you nodded to.

“Put up a silencing charm. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Sirius replied, causing the boys to perk up.

The next hour or so was spent with Sirius explaining your arranged marriage to his group of friends. You were relatively silent, not yet comfortable talking to his friends. He left out the parts where you were abused and berated but didn’t spare the details of his own abuse. It seemed he was comfortable sharing what he goes through to his friends. And evidently you too, since you were there listening too.

This was how you found out that he knew about the betrothal before you did. Apparently, he found out just moments before going to the dinner. He tried to refuse his father (the same way you had, you noticed) and received a beating for his insubordination. That would explain the look he had when you first saw him.

You cringed a little, hearing that he was hit but he gave you a reassuring smile. His friends were also really kind and sympathetic to the entire situation. No wonder he seemed comfortable sharing his familial trauma with them, they were extremely supportive.

“Can they really do that?” James questioned, from next to Sirius.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “Unfortunately, yes. There isn’t anything that we can do to avoid it.”

Remus looked up thoughtfully, “Is it possible for you guys to run away from your families?”

You thought about it, “Hypothetically, we could run away from our families and the blood supremacy world, but it would be extremely difficult.”

Sirius spoke up, “Trust me, I’ve debated it my entire life. If we ran away from our families, no doubt we would be financially cut off from them.”

You added, “Not only would we have to somehow have enough money for a place to live, but we would also need to find a job, to keep the place to live. And trust me, families like ours have a lot of power in the wizard world. One word from them, and no one would want or be able to hire us.”

Peter muttered, “That’s horrible.”

Sirius sighed and slouched in his seat, “You’re telling me.”

“Thinking about it, Sirius, you need to put your womanizing ways away. A married man shouldn’t be parading around with any woman that gives him attention,” you added with a teasing smirk.

“You make me sound like a cheap whore,” Sirius replied with a pout.

“You’re not?” James was quick to rebuttal, causing you to laugh at the offended face Sirius gave the both of you.  It didn’t take long for the entire group of you to dissolve into laughs and giggles.

Sirius smiled at you, teasingly, “Well how about you? I’m sure your long line of lovesick fools will end up sobbing at the news.”

You glared playfully at him, “I don’t know any lovesick fools. I actually swore off dating a long time ago so this doesn’t affect my love life at all.”

Remus looked at you in bewilderment, “Went from swearing off dating straight to marriage.”

“Quite the jump,” you simply offered in reply. “At least I’m stuck with Sirius and not some blood supremacist twat like my brother.”

“That is true,” Remus reasoned. “You could have been forced with someone who actually believes the rubbish their parents feed them.”

You felt comforted by Remus' words, confirming that Sirius wasn’t like both of your families.

The rest of the train ride was spent getting to know each other. It wasn��t hard to become friends with Sirius and his buddies. The longer you spent with them, the more comfortable you became with the idea of becoming Sirius’ wife. Don’t get me wrong. You still didn’t want to be forced to marry someone that you didn’t know or love, but you were comfortable knowing that he felt the exact same way.

Who knows? Maybe you could fall in love with Sirius the same way a plethora of other girls had.

The rest of your seventh year at Hogwarts went alright. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that you and Sirius were to be married but for the most part, the gossip didn’t bother either of you that much. It’s not like the rumors were false, so what was the point in denying anything.

The only downside was the threats that a multitude of Sirius fangirls made in your direction. Nothing too serious has happened to you yet, but you knew soon enough that it would be too much for the wrong girl. Turns out, that time would come soon enough. 

You were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Regulus sitting across from you. Since he was to be your brother-in-law, the both of you became friends. You would also find out that he wasn’t like his parents either. He just wasn’t as outward of this fact as Sirius was. Watching what Sirius has put up with, he knew that he wasn’t brave enough to rebel and deal with the consequences.

Earlier in the week, a parcel came by owl for you. In it was a Black family heirloom, a wedding ring. You were told that you had to wear it from now on, even though you guys were still only engaged and not married. Of course, you didn’t argue, though.

You sat staring at the ring. On one hand, you hate what it symbolized. It was your own sick image of slave shackles that tied you down. On the other hand, “It really is quite pretty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Sirius picked it out just for me.”

Regulus looked up at you as you spoke. He was confused for a moment until he noticed you glancing at the ring on your ring finger. He swallowed his toast and took a sip of his black coffee, “Well… I mean, it is charmed.”

You gave him a confused look, which only made him look back at you even more confused. His eyebrows raised, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” you questioned. You looked at the ring and tried to think of what kind of charm it could have been.

Regulus smirked back at you, “Well, Mrs. Black-” you glared at him, only making him smile harder at you, “-When the ring was first made for our grandmother's grandmother, or some other old bat, it was put under some kind of spell. 

“It was always meant to be an heirloom and it was charmed to always look the way that the husband, the male with Black blood, wanted it to look. Hypothetically, it was supposed to be a symbol of great love because the husband should know what kind of ring their wife would like to wear. But with our family being the kind of family it is, it was mostly only ever worn as a symbol of possession.

“Rarely, did the husbands care enough about their wives to know what kind of ring they would like to wear,” Regulus finished his story. He was giving you an unreadable smile.

You stared back at him, your expression almost as unreadable as his, scoffing at him, “Well most jewelry is going to be pretty.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that look like the perfect ring for you,” he smoothly replied.

You simply ignored him, finishing your breakfast. You did your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest at the thought that Sirius knew what your perfect ring would look like.

The ring on your finger only served as a reminder to all the girls at Hogwarts that you were to be Sirius’ wife, a fact that was not very well received by the female population. Before you had the ring, the most that would be thrown your way was dirty looks and glares, something you could easily handle. But as more and more people noticed the ring on your finger over the next week, the more serious it became.

You started to receive so much hate mail, that you started to only ever open up letters if they had the official Nott or Black seal. Most of the letters only said foul things to you. Not many people were aware of the arranged part of the marriage, mostly only pureblood Slytherins and Black’s friends knew about that, so a lot of the letters consisted of them berating you and wondering how you got the notorious Sirius Black to fall in love with you (A love potion being the most common guess. Because why would the perfect Sirius Black want to be with a nobody girl like you).

People really are dense these days. How could people possibly jump to any sort of conclusions when no one has ever seen you guys kiss… or even hold hands for that matter. The both of you were friends by now, of course. But that’s it. You guys didn’t just magically fall in love now that you are betrothed.

Well… one of you wasn’t in love. Over the course of getting to know Sirius more for the past few months, feelings did start to stir within you. But you always tried to squash them down as soon as you felt them. Which only made you hurt more.

You were going to get married… without your consent… to a guy that you’ve started to truly care for… despite the fact that he could never care for you the same way. It was all kind of sad, when you really thought about it.

You thought about how you were probably, inadvertently, just a symbol of his slavery to his family and their beliefs. Just as he was inadvertently a symbol of your slavery to your family and their beliefs.

But you were able to look past that. So maybe he would be able to look past it too and see the silver-lining to this whole thing.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you muttered a quicked Incendio at the pile of hate mail in front of you, burning it to ash. Slipping your wand back into your robes, you continued to eat your dinner in relative peace.

If only it could’ve stayed in peace. Two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff that you didn’t even recognize, sat down on both of your sides. Your confusion was apparent, only widening the smirk on the two girls' faces.

Understanding what was going on, you rolled your eyes, “Do you guys need something?”

“What’s your secret?” the Ravenclaw girl inquired.

You simply continued to eat your food, unaffected by their intimidation. Dryly, you responded, “Whatever could you mean?”

The girls looked at you in disgust, before the Hufflepuff spoke up, “We want to know how you got someone as amazing as Sirius Black to fall for you. I can’t think of anything good about you.”

With another roll of your eyes (if you had a galleon for everytime you rolled your eyes because of these kinds of girls, you would be rich) you cooly replied, “Have you tried, having a personality? I’ve heard it does wonders in making people like you.”

Both girls huffed at your attitude before standing up. The Ravenclaw haughtily informed you, “You better watch your back, Nott. Wouldn’t want anyone to damage Sirius’ goods.”

Using her wand, the Hufflepuff spilled sticky juice all over you, leaving you floundering in shock. You sat for a second seething in anger, only growing more furious as the gross liquid seeped more into your clothes.

By now, most of the great hall was already watching what had happened but at the glare you threw at everyone, people were quick to go back to minding their business.

You got up quickly, making your way out of the Great Hall. You heard footsteps behind you and someone calling your name but you were too blind with rage to bother turning around to find out what they wanted. You had had enough of the girls in this school looking down at you for something that wasn’t any of their business.

You were almost to the girls washroom, when Sirius grabbed ahold of your arm. You quickly whipped around, seething, “What the hell do you want, Black?”

He faltered, unsure how to handle what was happening, “I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

You glared harshly at him, “Do I look okay to you?”

Gobsmacked, he hesitantly replied, “Well, what can I do?”

“Oh gee, Black,” you spit at him. “Maybe you could fix your fanclub who seems to think that I’m Satan incarnate herself.”

Your anger in the moment kept you from thinking rationally, you mocked, “Oh perfect Sirius Black. He’s so hot and amazing. How could a slag like you end up with a man like him?”

Sirius stood, shocked at your outburst but kept silent and let you continue to tear at him, “I’ve heard it all, Black. Your little group of fangirls are so deep into their delusions that they can’t even see that we aren’t in love. The only thing that they are capable of seeing is that I’ll be your wife, consensual or not.

“Those girls don’t even realize the pain it brings me that I’m forced to do this. Those girls don’t see the pain my family has put me in, time and time again. Those girls don’t see the pain they cause me with their vitriolic jealousy,” You finished your rant off, poking at his chest with each sentence. Breathing deeply after explaining how this all made you feel, you watched as he processed everything you said.

He seemed unsure of how to continue, until anger and what looked like insecurity started to cover his face. He moved your hand away (very lightly, you noticed) and started to step towards you as he raised his voice back at you, “Well what do you expect me to do about literally anything about this situation. I’m sorry that having to marry me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Sirius,” you sighed, regretfully.

But he was quick to continue before you could, “No, you got to tear me out, so now it’s my turn. Trust me, this hurts me too. I know how horrible our families and their rubbish traditions are. You are just as familiar with the abuse as I am, meaning that you know just as well as I do, that there isn’t anything that either of us can do against this.”

He took a step back and a deep, calming breath. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, “I wish there was something, anything, that I could do to help us feel less trapped but there’s nothing to do.”

You took a step closer to him, “Nothing about you, is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Really, if anything, you’re the best thing to happen to me. It’s because of you, that I feel less alone.”

At your admission, Sirius let out a breath of relief, as if you just lifted the world off of his shoulders. Was he really that worried about being a burden to you? You spoke up again, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. None of this is your fault and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you.”

Sirius sighed, muttering the scourgify charm. The sticky juice was instantly cleaned off you and you already felt a little bit better.

Sirius grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his, “It’s alright. I understand what you’re going through. But we can get through this together.”

“You’re right,” you responded with a soft cry. You fell into his chest and softly cried out your frustrations. Sirius stood there, soothing you as best as he could, unwilling to let you out of his embrace.

“How about tonight, you meet me in the astronomy tower? We can do whatever, it doesn’t matter what. We can just hang out and forget about our families for once,” Sirius offered. He still had his arms around you in comfort.

Once your sniffles subsided, you hugged him just a little bit tighter, “That sounds amazing, Sirius.”

(A/N, I was thinking of doing a part 2 if you guys are interested. I was thinking it would be after the marriage but you guys still dance around the feelings you have for eachother. maybe you guys find a way to run away together too. i dont really know, yall let me know what you think)

[yawujin]

mroski i saw u asking for 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 requests and im here to deliver bc kinktober been dry as hell like GHGGRHRG THE DROUGHT… stupid characters from hetalia (that i will be naming at the end) coming home with a random viagra-like pill they grabbed off the shadiest place they could and begging to try it, thinking its probably fake or just low quality. but then s/o reluctantly agrees and theyre(only the character in my scenario, but feel free to tweak it to your liking) hit with immense horny, like not even the good kind theyre borderline about to pass out from the fever lol. how does that go? please make it not only 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 but also funny because i need the positivity in my life… anyways my proposed characters are north italy, denmark, prussia and america. feel free to do whichever ones you like!

it's been drier than a desert fr fr...luckily, october is the time of year i get the most inspired and creative. i chose prussia bc i feel like this scenario would fit him the best. enjoy 🪄

request˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ a mysterious pill (hetalia x reader)

type | nsfw , aphrodisiacs , smut , prussia thinks he's a sigma male 🐺 , long , drug usage (i guess) , they/them pronouns used

"no gil, don't take that." they grumbled, grabbing the pill from his hand. gilbert had brought home a singular pill he found inside one of those orange containers one would get at the pharmacy. but they could tell, this was not something any doctor would prescribe. they examined the neon pink gel pill, watching the kitchen lighting above make the bright color reflect onto the palm of their hand. what even is this? they pondered to themself.

"now schatz...why shouldn't i?" he cocked his head to the side. "i bought this specifically for you and i to have a much better time together."

they could hear the smile in his voice. then, it clicked and they realized exactly what he was talking about.

"i didn't think you were serious about getting something...something like this!" they stuttered out. gilbert smirked. "try it out."

they looked at him in disbelief. he lowered his head and shrugged. "the worst that can happen is that it turns out to be a fake." they stood there listening to his words in silence. he got closer to them, putting a hand up on their shoulder. "maybe it's a placebo." he sounded like he hoped it would be.

gilbert had poured them a glass of water as soon as they agreed to take it. "come now, drink up." he grinned.

"i still can't believe you bought a knock-off viagra." they said disappointedly. then, they took the pill in their mouth, sipping some water and swallowing hard. it tasted awful going down, but if this were to work the effects of the drug were about to wipe that taste from their mind completely.

the pair waited five minutes, then those five turned into ten. it seemed a bit longer to them since gil was asking if they felt anything every three minutes. they walked over to the sink and put their glass down inside. "no gil, for the last time i—" they held onto the kitchen counter with might as a hot, electric shock rushed to their core. "AH!" they felt as though they were about to collapse. gilbert rushed to their side, his hands at their back and waist.

"gil...i'm going to fall." they were feeling dizzy, like they were losing control of their own legs. gravity felt heavy and all of their weight was being pulled down. "i've got you." he reassured them as he tried to get them to stand again. "lean onto the counter."

they tried to stand without wobbling. with every slight brush of gilbert's hands on their waist, they felt the same heat rise in their abdomen. that dizzy feeling wasn't letting up, either.

"no, no. i can't. just take me to bed." they pleaded. they didn't need to tell gil twice. he was quick to lift their arm over his shoulder and carefully walk them over to their bed.

he laid them down carefully, sat at the edge of the bed, and raised a hand to their forehead. "mein gott, you are on fire." he shook his head. "i think," he was looking to leave and find his cell phone. "i should call the hospital."

"no!" they exclaimed. he looked worried. "just stay with me, okay?" they asked sweetly. they gestured for him to come nearer, and placed their hands on his face gently. "can i get a kiss?"

hesitant at first, gilbert brought his face up to theirs and smoothed his lips over their own. boldly, they ran their fingers through his hair and tugged at a few strands, earning a low moan from him. he pulled away almost instantly.

"huh...is it working?" his eyes were wide.

"isn't it obvious? i need you right now!!" they were upset gil pulled away so abruptly. "please do something..."

gilbert looked at them and chuckled. "should i tear off all your clothes like an animal and howl while i fuck you?" he imitated a howl, immediately shutting up when they grabbed him by his shirt.

"what do you think you are? a werewolf?" they smashed their lips up against his and smiled when they heard him moan in a surprised delight. "hurry up, do ANYTHING." they pleaded. it was getting too much for them to bare.

gilbert took off and threw all of his clothes to the floor in a hurry. he noticed the bright red color that dusted his partner's cheeks. that flushed looked on their face got him bricked faster than he would like to admit. "are you so horny that you can't even move?" he mocks them, thoroughly enjoying the cute noises that follow right after. he helps them take everything off as well. "alright...turn around for me, please."

they feel him press himself against their ass. his hand is around them, sliding it up their stomach, and getting closer to their chest. their eyelids grow heavy and finally shut. the heat builds up in their head, the fever making them feel like they're about to pass out from all that pleasure. with every inch that gilbert slowly adds inside of them, the closer they feel to coming. they've barely begun, and yet it feels like they won't last much longer.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✧ ── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍.

Tagged By: @mxlevolence and @bells-of-black-sunday (thank you !! ♥

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? ━━ Robin is actually an extremely small side character in a story I've been writing and planning yada yada not important ━ But! He was just underdeveloped enough that I was spurred to challenge myself into making something new and unique to other characters. Robin's lore and his story with grief also helped me go through a rather rough time, not so much because I felt our grief was comparable, but because I had to learn and read and educate myself about what was ailing me. Creating Robin and expanding off of his very brief mention and interaction in the story was a lot of fun. I really enjoy characters that let you know what they're all about with just a few moments of dialogue, and I immediately knew what made Robin tick and what I wanted to explore with him. It was a very fun project!

is there anything you don’t like to write? ━━ I'm not particularly a big fan of writing like - in depth torture or anything like that, despite what I say I really cannot observe or write anything that's suffering, it just makes me sad. I don't really dislike writing anything besides that but smut is something that isn't my go to. I do write it but I definitely have to be in a specific mood to write it; it doesn't come as easily to me. Most of the time mine ends up being very poetic because the thought of describing all of that (especially on dash) make's me want to curl in my shell and scream. It's the catholic guilt for me man I can't escape it -

is there anything you really enjoy writing? ━━ In case Robin's personality didn't make it glaringly obvious: I'm a huge fan of psychological horror. I love seeing what can break characters and how they react to trauma - so I guess angst falls into that too! I just really enjoy exploring the human traits that characters have and that - even someone like Robin - is just a person. I enjoy Slice of Life quite a bit too - but only if it has a purpose.

how do you come up with headcanons? ━━ Oh I don't come up with anything my brain just throws ideas at me and I keep the ones that I can refine and sharpen. Robin was extremely underdeveloped when I first began writing him so I had a lot of freedom to bend him whichever way I wanted.

do you write in silence or do you play music?  ━━ I mean ... kinda? It really depends on what I'm writing. I do listen to music when writing fast paced scenes or scenes that are heavily fueled by emotion - but the emotion that envelopes a character entirely so they're not thinking. Most of the time when characters are interacting I play ambiance of whatever environment; even if its literally just liminal empty space with a little bit of wind. It helps me immerse my brain into the characters current experience.

do you plan your replies or wing them? ━━ I don't plan it in the case of sitting down with a pen and paper and crafting an outline; but throughout my day if I'm bored I tend to just wander to writing and think through different scenarios and which I think fit best. I extend it a little in my mind space and then I write it out. After that I refine it and then I read for spelling errors that inevitably makes me add more to it etc etc

do you enjoy shipping?  ━━ Yes! However I am extremely picky when it comes to shipping with Robin and it is also extremely difficult to enter into any sort of meaningful relationship with him wherein he actually cares about his partner in a genuine way. Robin is also a very manipulative individual and this makes any sort of relationship with him a growth off of something inherently wrong. I do not ship often with Robin, but when I do its always fun to see how this new emotion affects him.

what’s your alias/name?  ━━ Egg!

age? ━━ 26

birthday? ━━ May 19th

favorite color? ━━ Jade

favorite song? ━━ I have never once been able to answer this and I still cannot; so instead you'll be getting a few! Both entire albums of Darkside of the Moon and The Wall - I don't care they're one 2 hour long song idk. I have a lot of sentimental value attached to Pink Floyd and although I don't mention them often they sit highhh up there. The other bands I obsess over include: Sleep Token, Ghost, Epica, and Nightwish.

last movie you watched? ━━ Repo! The Genetic Opera ⊂◉‿◉つ

last show you watched? ━━ MLP! I'm watching it with @bells-of-black-sunday

last song you listened to? ━━ All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix

favorite food? ━━ To be honest; I don't have one! I'm not picky at all and I love exploring new dishes. Buttt if I had to pick one of my favorite categories of food then definitely seafood, and especially butterfish! I used to fish for them with my grandmother in the backwoods near my childhood home.

favorite season? ━━ Summer - I love being able to lay out in the fields by my house and plant native wildflowers throughout my area during this time ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

do you have a Tumblr best friend? ━━ Two! @bells-of-black-sunday (mwah! ♥) and @agonizedembrace (kya - )

Tagging: @agonizedembrace, @deathfxnds, @pitgritted, @steel-and-fire, @dethdvncer, @valhiir, @seekslight, @nameaprice, @manufactoredxbyxdesign, @johnnysslaughter, @burntscars, @fluxjumped, @noctumsilenced, @aquatic-hybrid, @songofsilentechoes, @thegoldentigress, @piltover-sharpshooter, @hook-and-chains, @hemoplagued, @reliving-elegy, @asktheevilstarchild

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 27: Whelve 🕳️

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Whelve (v.)

to turn (as a dish or vessel) upside down usually to cover something

to bury something deep; to hide

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Whichever one I was the most lost on how to handle before? Scratch that, this one takes that cake now. If it wasn’t obvious. 😅

It was also yet another chaotic day with not much time to play. I hope that doesn’t continue for the remaining 4…🫠

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk a bit more about my general thoughts/process. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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😮‍💨 Sparklers, I'm tired. Remember how I said yesterday was a chaotic day around the house? That was true again today. And now you know why this piece both went up particularly late for the Obscutober pieces and spent a fair bit of time without a proper description afterward, too. 😅

Now, also to be fair, I wasn't as upset as I probably should have been about the chaos and the delays it caused because I had exactly one idea for this mandala, and it did not feel like a good enough idea to carry the mandala on its own.

...And yet, that's essentially what I did: Go with that one idea and make it carry the whole mandala. Care to take a guess what said idea was?

Granted, if I'd had more time when I was finally about to sit down and worry about the art for today, I probably would have experimented and dug for more ideas, at least to see what my options were even if the outcome wasn't that different. But that was time I just didn't have today.

So. In case you couldn't guess, my main idea was shovels, after the whole "bury something" part of the definition.

...Alright, I admit that I did briefly toy with the idea of turtles, since they tie in well with concept of hiding. But I didn't end up incorporating that both because the longer I thought about it, the less it seemed to fit, and also I really could not be bothered with the amount of trial-and-error I knew it would take to get a turtle in this style that was to my liking. 👎

I think generally this word, for me, would've been better suited to a mini-magnet approach. I could just as easily be wrong, though.

Still, with shovels as my base, the next logical thing I could think to do was just make some ground surrounding the shovels; Emphasizing how you'd use a shovel to dig down deep, through multiple layers of dirt. And that explains the bulk of the mandala, except...

Those square not-quite-flower things at the end of every shovel. What's that about?

Honestly, I just wanted something else that was less doodle-y, less specifically tied to the ground/shovel concept, and maybe kinda felt like it tired more into hiding.

It's a very loose connection, but I was sort of thinking this square-ish motif at least vaguely went with "hide" since the edges are dark and the center almost looks like a mid-bloom flower or something. So maybe in some sense you'll get a "flower hiding secrets" kind of vibe from it?

Similarly, the fill-in colors for those wasn't really thought out. I just went with colors I thought would look good—Which I think was a success, at least!

There might have been hints of "gold for treasure, like you'd bury" or "red like an X-marks-the-spot would be on a map" influencing me there, but I won't swear to it, and I'm genuinely still not sure of where the blue came from other than making a nice primary palette. 🤷‍♀️

Sooo...That's kinda it. 😅 I do think visually, as a piece of art, it came out well—pretty, even! My hang up is purely that it doesn't tie back into the definition for the word super well. Quite possibly the worst so far on that front.

But, given the events of the day, I'm going to mostly let it go and just be happy that it does look nice and that I was able to get it done and posted in time.

I am hoping though that this coming week, things will calm down a little bit so we can end the month on a higher note...I'm expecting that, because I know how these things tend to go, but I can dream, can't I? 🫠

Now if you Sparklers will excuse me, I need a bit of a rest before it's time to start on the next one of these. 😴

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See the Prompt List

Artwork © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️=

[bettsfic]

Hi betts! Ive been finding your posts really motivating, they make me want to write more and more. So id really appreciate if you could give me advice for this problem!

I just dont know how to revise! Or maybe the problem is that i dont know how to write drafts that need revising.

Basically what happens is that i write a draft as fast and messily as i can. And then i reread it, and i really like it! So when i get around to fixing it up, i end up chopping out things just based off of vibes. And then i read that version, and i hate it! It shows a lot more technical skill for sure, and it coheres a lot more, but i feel that its completely lost its voice and style. I tend to write in fits of emotion, and i feel like any revising outside of that mindset just sort of... strips the text of its sincerity?

Where do i go from here? Its not easy to practice revision when its so disheartening!

When i attempt to write badly, it either turns out good enough that im scared to change it, or bad enough that im not interested in it anymore.

How do i revise a draft without removing the things i like about it? Do i just need to get better at identifying what i like about my work?

that's an interesting situation, anon. i guess my immediate question is, if you like what you write, why do you even want to revise?

in the 50s, the beats popularized this idea of "first thought, best thought," which basically means what goes on the page is what belongs there, and the first words that come to us are the right ones, not because they're good, but because they're first.

for your own purposes, for the sake of discovery, i think this is a great mentality. the process of invention is the purest practice of creativity. you're putting things on a page that weren't there before, and if you're doing that in a way you find satisfying, and if you're pleased with the results, then i think you should keep doing it. it seems to me like your willingness to revise and your ability to say, "no, i liked it better before," will naturally develop into a more dedicated revision practice. eventually you'll write the thing that makes you go, "wait a minute, that's not right," or maybe, "i like this, but it doesn't quite honor the story i want to tell." and those are the seeds of revision.

don't get me wrong, i'm a firm believer in revision. but more than that, i'm a believer in letting your joy guide you in any creative process. revision should feel good. you should want to revise. you may not always be eager to revise, but you should feel strongly enough about the nature of what you're creating that making it better will make you feel better. but if you don't want to revise, then you shouldn't feel obligated to.

still, if you want to get a sense of what revision can do to your work so that you can experiment and grow, i would recommend writing something short, maybe a thousand words or fewer. then put it down for a week, and rewrite it without looking at it again. put that down for a week too. then rewrite it a third time without looking at either previous draft.

when you have all three drafts, try to look at them with a discerning eye. which one overall is best and why? or if you can't tell, go through and highlight all the sentences you like and count them. whichever story has the most highlights wins.

sometimes revision isn't always about making something better. sometimes it's about approaching your work so many different ways that you've conceived all possible angles and chosen the one that's best. sometimes the first thought really is the best thought. but sometimes it's the fifth thought, or the tenth, or one that someone else has to bring to your attention. i think if you broaden your definition of revision to be "considering every way this thing can be written," it'll help guide you toward a process that works for you.

[thefoxinateacup]

Reading Recap: The Bardugo Bash

It's been quite the Leigh Bardugo year so far. I've filled my time with four of her books in the first half of 2024, and I'm sure I'll throw in another reread of Six of Crows before the year ends.

First up, back in January, I finally got my hands on the pocket version of Hell Bent. I really wanted this size so it would fit with my copy of Ninth House because I'm extra like that. It took me two weeks to devour Hell Bent which I took everywhere with me. I read it at home, at the cafe, on my lunch break at work, even on my walks to and back from work. It was impossible to put it down. After a solid first entry in the series with Ninth House, Bardugo expanded the dark fantasy parallel universe of Yale's secret societies.

I say parallel because it's wild to me to even think that the grimy and dangerous Yale of Alex Stern could possibly be the same as the light and cosy Yale of Rory Gilmore. But then again, Rory's world revolved very much around herself so who's to say she just wasn't completely oblivious to the dark deeds performed on her precious college campus. Anywho.

We meet up again with our ragtag team of supernatural investigators and shit-stirrers as they more or less willingly embark on a mission to rescue Darlington from whichever circle of hell he ended up falling into in the first book. The antagonists this time around are more demons than ghosts but keep the spooky vibe very much alive. Alex leads the charge out of a sense of duty towards Darlington, but also an irresistible sense of attraction, which the Gentleman Demon can't deny either. (Cue the countless pieces of stunning fanart hehehe.) In classic Alex fashion, whenever things can take a turn for the worse, they do, but it also allows her to learn more about her purpose and powers. No pain no gain, I guess.

In conclusion, I was hooked from the start and can hardly wait for the final installment in the series to come out, see where our dashing demon and wicked witch take us for one last ride in the dark underbelly of New Haven.

Next up, I cruised through Siege and Storm and Ruin and Rising. Ahead of the Starfury convention where I was finally going to meet Jessie and Archie, I figured it was about time I finished the original trilogy. Bardugo's writing style is so pleasant to read, I finished both books in two weeks. I already knew I liked Nikolai from the King of Scars duology and Paddy Gibson's delightful portrayal on the Shadow and Bone TV series, but boy oh boy did Siege and Storm confirm that, after the Crows obviously, Nikolai is my favourite Grishaverse character. And if I'm honest, as riveting as the plot is in Ruin and Rising, Siege and Storm is my favourite book of the original trilogy. Because it has the most Nikolai? Well yes, duh. But also the domesticity of being at the Little Palace again, even if Alina's newfound leadership and isolation brings its own challenges.

I will say that, as much as it makes sense plot-wise, Alina losing her powers after she spent so much time earning it and owning it feels a little bit disappointing, but at least now her and Mal can be equally ordinary people who live a simple but good life, in love for the rest of their days. Regardless of how it ends, it's amazing to witness the care and detail that Bardugo put into creating a fantasy world that still feels tangible. What a time to be alive!

Finally, another two weeks to savour The Familiar. My boss ordered me the pretty hardback copy with black edges straight from the US so that one was definitely a home book. (Cue Gollum voice: my precious.) The world building was very nicely done, dropping information about the historical context without it feeling like a history textbook, and introducing the special kind of magic that Luzia possesses in a very "show don't tell" way. Bardugo tried out a different point of view style, relying less on first person narrative or character specific chapters to blend the points of view of Luzia and Santangel, for the most part, creating a fuller scope of understanding for the narrative.

You could cut the tension between Luzia and Santangel, the disillusioned ancient magic wielder who takes her under his wing because he doesn't have a choice, with a knife until finally the last thread of propriety snaps, much to the enjoyment of the adult reader. Because it is, dear reader, very much a book for adults. It is full of dark magic, messy and sexy, pain and betrayal, questions of one's mortality, however the tone felt less tragic to me than the Ninth House series. Luzia takes initiative and follows her ambition, even if it might cost her everything. Luzia's rage against a world that would condemn her for merely being alive makes her all the more willing to not settle for less than she is worth. Damn be the consequences!

The 16th century Madrid depicted adds charm to the setting while also grounding it into the sinister period of the Spanish Inquisition. The background of religious persecution adds a layer of urgency to Luzia's dangerous path to greatness. It begs the question of whether she can even escape certain doom. Does she even want to? Read The Familiar to find out.

My point is: if Bardugo writes it, I will read it. Her writing style is so electrifying, it perfectly scratches the itch in me that craves great storytelling and beautiful words weaved into mind-bending sentences. And I'm looking forward to being consumed by her next masterpiece.

Bookishly yours!

[lawlietscaramels]

light yagami r s v x y (or whichever ones of these you want)

death note reborn

I ended up doing all of em but "y" because based on my Mello + L experience research takes soooo long. dies.

also the "v" is just a sketch because I couldn't pick an artstyle and got sad.

I have too many artstyles :(

Light's regrets are really interesting to think about! Especially around the Death Note, because, you know, I think there's a period after he starts and before he meets Misa (I think— I have such a bad memory for canon events??) when he really questions his decisions and wavers and in general has a bit of a breakdown. It's probably the "tipping point" of his story, that bit. I love tipping points. Anyway, I think during that period he really regrets picking up the Death Note, but because he did, he wouldn't let himself quit.

Hm. I think as Kira he "regrets" Misa. Technically he couldn't do anything about her but I think she complicated his plans more than she helped; also in general, as Kira having to rely on others was something I believe really frustrated Light. Back to normal Light's regrets, I think part of the reason he regretted the Death Note thing was his family. Light loves his family, his mum and sister so much, desperate for his father's approval, he just wants to protect em and make them proud.

Also in contexts like this ↑ whole thing I think it's really important to distinguish Light from Kira-Light because there is so much difference.

Sexuality!!! A very fun question! In canon, Light dates a LOT of girls (or is at least very popular with them) even before Kira. I think it's an expectation in his family that people (by which they mean girls of course) like him. Light has a more traditional family like that. Of course, when he's Kira dating those girls comes in super handy: Misa's eyes, Takada's influence. But he only meets them when he IS Kira, and even if it's really obvious he doesn't like them much less romantically, he's able to act convincingly to their faces. First, as Kira I don't believe Light is interested in relationships at all, he would do it alone if he could. Second, I think the fact that he is able to act convincingly (as opposed to the Oh, it's Normal to have a Strange Guy named after a Pop Star come to my school and Say He's the World's Greatest Detective) is what leads a lot of people to say "well, he must understand love, so he's gay."

But, again, he's Kira when he dates both of them. And Misa in particular is not going to be the most attractive girl to lots of people... Besides, Light's still a kid, you know? He mightn't want to date at all, it's pretty canon that up until Kira he's very invested in school work and Japanese schools tend to be very demanding on workload, and some even don't allow dating. And when Light's Kira, he doesn't care about anyone at all. I guess what I'm saying is, there's no canon evidence he's gay nor straight nor bi nor aroace. It's hard to headcanon a sexuality onto Light: just because he's at a stage in his life (childhood and school, mass murderer and god) where he's not interested in dating doesn't mean he's aroace. I do think he has bisexual tendencies, but whatever -romantic he is it's hard to pin down.

As for gender, I think he's cis but doesn't care very much about fitting stereotypes unless it benefits the "I am the perfect child, smart, morally upright, talented, Not Kira" narrative.

(see. look at the right. ew. not happy with it. his hair and his eyes and also he looks too evil in a weird way.)

How Light thinks? I'd say he has one part of his mind focused on whatever's going on (schoolwork, a discussion in the Task Force or around the dinner table) and the other busy actually thinking. About Kira, about his life, about the world as a whole. He tends to zone out a little and focus on those real thoughts, but being Light and far intellectually superior to those around him, he tends to get the gist of the conversation if he has to say something suddenly. It took some time to unlearn this so Light could be on full guard around L. I think my intention for this question was to kind of detail their speaking style so I'll do that quickly: I think he's like Teruhashi (Saiki K) and doesn't use honorifics unless he's speaking aloud; he tends to use more harsh and crass phrases in his thoughts but is very careful to sound polite when speaking aloud; and he sounds a little like an old man apart from that...

[cawthorntales]

Logan: Well won't be long now and I'll have a boyfriend.

Emily: I still can't believe you are going through with this. It is a waste of time and is taking away from our activities.

Logan: Me finding love is a waste of time?

Emily: It is. Love isn't real.

Logan: You loved your sister.

Emily: And? Look what it got me. Betrayal my powers weakened tremendously and trapped as a chicken.

Logan: Maybe things would have been different if you had talked to her. Told her what happened. What you sacrificed.

Emily: It wouldn't have made a difference. She and the coven made up their minds.

Logan: I care about you.

Emily: Only because that's what my magic did to you when I corrupted you from that naive sweet gentle man you were.

Logan: I cared about you before I was corrupted by your magic. Or did you forget how I treated you when I found you in my backyard?

Emily: It doesn't matter. Just like it's not going to make a difference to whichever clown wins this bachelor challenge when he learns about the real you. Unless you corrupt him.

Logan: I won't have to do that. I've planned this all out. The guys left are here because they do like me.

Emily: They like this fake version of you. They don't know the criminal mastermind who runs a dark underground crime ring and who tortures anyone who gets in his way. But yet refuses to kill. Which is still odd. The people I turned before you had no issues killing.

Logan: He will come around. You may have twisted me and changed who I am as a person, but I don't need to kill to get whatever the fuck I want.

Emily: I know that. but it is fun.

Logan: No power, control and sex are all the fun I need. Besides you want have more cursed eggs for a long time.

Emily: I still have two left from when I turned you.

Logan: They'd be rotten by now. And why did you keep them. You have me.

Emily: Magic remember? Magic eggs don't rot my pet. Insurance on my part. Before I had only ever laid one eggs so I only had once chance of corrupting someone. This time was different and I had four. Both of the ones before you died not long into our partnerships because they were sloppy and got caught. I expected you to follow that fate as well.

Logan: Glad to see you fucking doubted me. But you said you only had two? If I ate one that should have left you three.

Emily: I broke the third one to study it. Even I still didn't know the full powers of these eggs. I learned some interesting things studying it.

Logan: Like what?

Emily: It seems you aren't going to age anymore or get sick. Ultimately the only way for you to die is by being killed. Seems my stripped magic power seeps into these eggs.

Logan: So you're saying that whoever I end up with I'm going to have to watch him fucking age and die?

Emily: Yup. But you can always replace him with a new one. Or you could corrupt whoever you see fit.

Logan: You're enjoying this aren't you.

Emily: That I am. It's an easy choice to make. You've done far worse than turn someone down the path of evil.

Logan: The old me would never do this.

Emily: The old you wouldn't have done a lot of things. You said yourself you were weak, naive, a pushover who constantly got walked all over. Now look at you. You're the most powerful man in this town and you are free to do whatever you want. I've given you everything so suck it up and make a choice.

Logan: You're right. I'm being a dumb ass. I guess love does make you a bit weak. I'll figure it out.

Emily: That's my evil boy.

Logan: You're ridiculous.

~

@theosconfessions @stargazer-sims

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

I have one (1) question about the fic though...

Whats the deal with the travelers? Are they real? Did one of them really end up leading the abyss order after the fall of khaenri'ah and did the other wake up 500 years later and search the entirety of teyvat for them? Is paimon real? This is technically more than one question but you get the idea,,, i have one (1) line of questioning,,,

If you don't want to or can't answer thats fine :))

no worries! i assume you're asking abt ajax' timeline of teyvat, bc the one he was sent back to (guizhong and morax') doesn't have the twins in it yet (twins are post-archon war stuff as far as we know? on paimon i've no clue), if it'll even have them at all. because-

the general answer is: i'm pretending the twins and paimon don't exist. not because i have anything in particular against them, but because i feel like we know so little about their lore that trying to fit them in to an au of this kind would only overcomplicate everything. as things in the fic stand, the twins were basically ocs by the game's creators that served as drivers for the story.

i have more thoughts about this? but it ended up being kinda long so i'll put them under the cut hahah;;

the tl;dr is you can believe whatever sounds more interesting. the arc and everything in the og timeline was always just context for everything that came after, so it's not all that important.

if i had to fit them somewhere, though, i'd probably say that the abyss twin dies in the chaos of the split, which makes the traveler decide to take drastic action and fully put their all into helping the archons gtfo of teyvat. basically the abyss twin dies and the remaining one sacrifices themselves to get the arc out of teyvat.

an alternaitve idea is that, upon finding out that the abyss order has been pupeteered by asmoday the entire time, the abyss twin decides that fuck it, they ball, and they join forces with the traveler to help the arc gtfo.

my main issue with all this is that, since we don't know squat about how powerful the twins are, i don't know if the split would've even been necesary given they could've gone and ended celestia if they teamed up. or alternaitvely, if they had helped in getting the arc out and stayed behind with the archons, if the world would be in a state as dire as rex lapis described it. so the only way this makes sense in my mind is if a) one of them dies in the chaos or b) they are somehow not strong enough combined to take down celestia and thus jump into the archons' plan. or the angsty route of c) celestia takes control of the abyss twin and either they make them kill the traveler or force the traveler to kill them? either way they both end up dying or functionally incapacitated (physically or emotionally).

so you can see how things get complicated hahah

that's why this au sort of chooses to interpret the twins as not having been real in the original timeline, but just ocs that the game added to tell the story more easily and without having to pick one of the historic figures to be the protagonist. that's kind of what childe has assumed all along, also.

so really, i'd say you can take your pick for whichever sounds the most interesting! since i was working under the assumption that the twins wouldn't affect the outcome of the story, really, you can believe what you want. i guess that means you could also choose to believe that the twins teamed up and helped the archons get the arc out, and it was just that rex lapis and ei never mentioned them? anything goes tbh

all that i said also applies to paimon btw. i know it's kinda mean but, again, since we know so little about her, i'm just working with the idea that she's just- an accessory, to the traveler. functionally speaking she's an extention of them. kinda mean but that's the only way that comes to mind to describe her. so like- if the twins were ocs, then so was paimon. if the twins joined forces with the archons, then so did paimon. if it ends in tragedy, then paimon was simply there for the traveler, and if the traveler dies, then- well idk. i'm not sure paimon can die. uh-

so yeah?

sorry if that's a bit of a disappointing answer! i'm pretty sure i mentioned it somewhere before but honestly i might be missremembering. anyway-

ahhh long word dump, my bad. thank you!

[heartandmindful]

what i truly want in life

for my loved ones to be happy and stable and provided for

to create art

to have a community (but i'm scared of actually being vulnerable)

stimulation and new experiences

peace and content

to fully love myself/be comfortable in my skin

to come out of dissociation

ranting >

to be satisfied > what would satisfy me?

i've lived most of my life wishing for a fantasy, reality makes me dull

can i make this reality into my dream world?

i don't want to work but i want to have purpose, something to work towards than just relax forever

so i guess i want to give to the world, make an impact

i think what i want most is to share my art with the world so i'll work on my art more, whichever form it takes whether it's creating stories or songs etc

i like the idea of love in a platonic and romantic sense, but never feel understood and actually fully satisfied within any relationships

i don't want someone just like me but i want to fit idk

plus being vulnerable makes me actually feel sick

it's just too scary

i can't imagine what my soul tribe looks like so i'll let the universe do it's thingg

interesting thing ab me, i love being in my fantasies more than actually living, reality is extremely disappointing

this stems from my childhood, i'd runaway to my fantasy world whenever my parents would treat me bad or something bad would happen

trauma response? note to self: look into understanding the relationship between you and the girl you don't like thinking about LMAO

letme do it rn actually

i ended it so i could feel in control, in the beginning i felt so insecure i couldn't even show my face around her and i wanted her to wait to see me until i felt pretty enough

i need to work on feeling completely comfortable within myself before i let someone else see me

i didn't understand why she seemed to love me

i need to take it slow but i looove reassurance

and a calm and grounding typa love

i was only addicted to the up and down infatuations because i was in control, i wasn't scared of being vulnerable because i didn't have to give myself away, and i was happily living a fantasy

i am scared of being vulnerable because i hate myself and i'm scared they'll see it too and leave me

i am insecure

objectively i love myself but deep down i don't know

[archive-of-the-guild]

✌𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓜𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼!✌

For when your character is fed up, pissed off, vindictive or even just sassy as fuck! Whichever comes first.

______________________________________________________________

"Give my condolences to your mother, seeing that face on the baby she birthed must've been traumatizing"

"Your face is fit for radio and your voice is fit for silent movies"

"I'd tell you to go fuck yourself but I wouldn't wish that horror on even you"

"Ooooh, this one's sharp... sharp as a marble"

"You look like a walking side-effect of a bad potion interaction."

"Boy, you're a few cards short of a full deck aint'chya. Have a card." Proceeds to hand a random chard to Person B.

"You are a background character in your own life."

"You're none of your best friend's best friend."

"I keep wondering why others let you hang around. I mean, most npcs are useful."

"This is exactly the sort of acquisition i would expect from such a paragon of mediocrity."

"Woooowww. That's impressive. Did you smash a clay pot to find that or was it a prize from a county fair?"

"Hey, if you're looking for your dignity, i don't have it."

"You're clearly not the farthest-sliding penguin, are you."

"If you had brains, I'd tell you to think back to everything you ever did. Alas, here we are."

"Why? Just... why?"

"Look at your friends. See what they're doing? That's exactly how you ended up in this predicament."

"So were you bored and decided to ruin your own quest, or...?"

"You know, I love a sensible, level-headed partner... if only you could be like that."

"Whatever you want from me, that's not gonna help."

"Could you not? There are better ways to waste everyone's time."

"You know, even you could be the most clever one in the party. You just need to consider a solo career."

"Ah, a classic. You thought you were smarter than you actually are."

"I'd tell you not to do that, but you're gonna do it anyway."

"Oh, welcome! Let me guess - more bad decisions on top of your previous stupid decisions?"

"I don't know why I even care."

"You do realize I can insult you all day, right?"

"Oh thank you, but I didn't really NEED more material to ridicule you with."

"You need to keep that stupidity of yours in check - there's only so much healing supplies in the world."

"Careful. I hear it can be rather dangerous to use your entire vocabulary in a single sentence."

"It wasn't until I met you that I was grateful for my extremely poor eyesight."

"If you were a spell nobody would bother to learn you."

"Whoa! What diety did your parents piss off to have made you?"

"Look at this one, brain so smooth. No wrinkles. No crinkle."

"What you really need is a miracle to get out of this mess, which I have no doubts was your fault to begin with."

“Look, buddy, I could use a good conversation, so… would you mind leaving?”

"You need to apologize to the trees for all the oxygen you've wasted."

"You're a dollar short and a day late to the fair."

"I'm not even sure science can make use of you."

"If someone took you, consider them your new family, cause i ain't paying to get you back."

"Even a gorgon would keep her eyes shut with you around."

"If I was to make a diss track for you, it would be an encyclopedia."

"When your parents said you could be anything you wanted, a disappointment was not supposed to be an option."

"I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain how much of a bad idea this is."

"Does vicious mockery even work on you? Your intelligence is so low you probably think its a delightful complement."

"I became an atheist after meeting you. What kind of cruel god would allow you to exist?"

"You remind me of Rapunzel, except instead of letting down you hair you let down all of your friends"

"Please have some gum. Or toffee candy. Anything to stop you singing!"

"May you one day deserve the good life."

"If you were any more dense, you'd sink."

"Well, my time of not taking you seriously is coming to a middle!'

"You make a match look as bright as the sun."

"I see you're the kinda fella who packs a bag of sand and forgets a breath mint."

"It must be nice living with your brain. Having to consistently remember to consciously breathe must make up for most of your entertainment."

"You've got 2 braincells fighting for third place."

"My condolences to you for that unfortunate curse you have. What? That's your natural look?"

"I sensed your presence before you even arrived. What did you EAT?!"

"Ha! [laugh] You're funny. But looks aren't everything."

"You've got darkness in your soul. I can smell it! Oh, no wait, I think that's your breath."

“You make me wish my immune system knew my eyes existed.”

"I envy everyone you've never met."

"I'd ask what's wrong with you, but I think it would be faster to ask what isn’t."

"How is it that you have two functional legs yet have gotten absolutely nowhere in your life?"

"If your intellect was the sun, we'd all freeze."

"I know a good way to get rid of flies. You know, for the ones buzzing about in your empty skull."

"Your parents aren't disappointed in you, they know this is you living your best life. Tragic."

"What you just said was so stupid, I could drink alphabet soup and crap out a more coherent sentence."

"Because I pity you, I'll make sure to aim for your face in this fight so that swelling can improve it."

"You would take the bronze medal in a 1 on 1 intellectual competition with a rock"

"When you were born, the doctor said, 'No refunds.'"

"You look like you took every medication in the world and suffered all of the side effects."

"You seem like the type who would lick butter off of the sidewalk."

"You know, whoever invented the word 'fool-proof' clearly never met you."

"I'm really not sure what is deeper: my hatred for you, or this hole you've dug yourself into."

"It's funny that you're confident enough to bet your life on your abilities, yet you don't seem to have any."

"Are you always stupid, or are you making a special effort today?"

"Some day you'll go far..... and I hope you'll stay there."

"I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up my ass!"

"By looking at you, now I know what you get when you scrape out the bottom of the barrel!"

"What are you going to do for a face when the monkey wants his ass back?"

"I would try burning you, but burning trash is supposed to be illegal."

[socrateswept]

Morrigan's ghost R.5 preview

Ao3

The jounin training grounds were a fair distance from the village. Isolated little patches in the green forest.

The ones for genin were squashed together. They were big— had to be to fit four people in them— but it wasn’t unusual for teams to come across each other while training if they walked far enough.

Nobody could do such thing with a jounin training ground.

They were spread far, far apart. Nestled in terrain too difficult to navigate if you weren’t at least a chuunin.

Because jounin are dangerous.

They threw around A rank jutsus like it was nothing. Destroying battlefields in an instant. Wars were won on their backs. Whichever village had the most jounin won.

All of this was to say that Kakashi didn’t bother to put up any genjutsu to keep anyone out when he entered one. A fact he was going to regret in about 20 minutes. But for now he was pretty content with his life choices.

He set Naruto on the ground. Who waved his baby hands at him demanding to be picked back up. Face scrunched in aggravation.

“Since you have started to crawl it’s time for you to start training.” Kakashi ignored him. Hands on his hips.

That’s what he figured anyways. Kakashi didn’t actually know when his father started training him, but since he graduated as a genin at the age of five he couldn’t be that far off.

“Kakashi.” Pakkun eyed him tiredly. “Don’t you think you should wait until the pup has a better grasp of the human language to do this?”

“He’s Sensei’s son. He can handle it.”

“This isn’t going to end well.” Pakkun huffed.

“Wanna bet on it?” Kakashi took a rubber kunai out of his pocket and shoved the handle into Naruto’s mouth.

“Not particularly.” Pakkun leapt on top of a large mossy boulder. He stared down at him with judgmental eyes. “I’d rather you just listen to me.”

“Assassinate the target.” Kakashi pointed at a grocery bag filled with dry grass a few feet away.

He had to make it himself. None of the shops he went to had any targets for babies. Weird. With all of the clan kids running around he would have thought there’d be a bigger market for it.

At least they had rubber kunai.

Though Kakashi had to go into the dog section to find it.

Naruto gurgled. Sitting on his legs while he gnawed on the fake kunai. Drool sliding down his chin.

“No.” Kakashi said, sternly. Picking him up and putting him in the proper crawling position. It was harder than it should have been. Naruto kept trying to roll over.

“Take out the target.” He pointed again.

“Give it up. There’s no harm in waiting a couple more months.” Pakkun said.

“Yes, there is.” Kakashi growled. “The Hokage said that there were going to be people looking to hurt him. The faster I start training him the faster he can protect himself.”

“That may be true, but face the facts. He isn’t ready yet. You can’t force things.”

“He can do it.” Kakashi said, stubbornly. Adjusting the kunai in Naruto’s mouth over to the left, so his lips weren’t touching the blade anymore. He would have cut his gums up, if it had been a real one.

Good thing Kakashi had changed his mind on using dull kunai.

He gave Naruto an encouraging push on his rump. “All you have to is get over to it. Go on now.”

And miracles of miracles Naruto actually started crawling to the target.

“Look Pakkun! I told you he could do it.” Kakashi shouted.

“I’m looking. I’m looking.” Pakkun chuckled. “Guess I owe you an apology.”

Kakashi watched with excitement as Naruto crawled closer and closer to the target. His little chubby legs working in determination.

“That’s it.” Kakashi leaned forward. “Just a bit more.”

Naruto got within 6 inches of the target then suddenly veered to the left. Crawling past it.

“No, no, no. What are you doing? That’s too far. You gotta turn around.” Kakashi walked over to him.

He reached Naruto just in time to watch him spit the kunai out and pick up a caterpillar. His baby fingers barely fit around the wiggling insect. It was a massive bug. He shoved it into his mouth with glee. Gurgling with satisfaction.

Kakashi stared down at him. “Maybe he thought I was talking about the caterpillar when I told him to assassinate the target..?”

“You are in denial. The pup didn’t have a clue what you were talking about.” Pakkun snorted. “And get that bug out of his mouth, Kakashi. You don’t know whether it’s poisonous or not.”

Luckily for him Naruto didn’t need much coaxing to spit out the caterpillar. Which meandered away indignantly. Covered in saliva.

Well, that went poorly.

Kakashi patted Naruto’s head. “Good session. You can relax now. We’re done with training.”

He pulled on his summons and Akino appeared in a soft cloud of white smoke. Akino looked intimidating in his konoha flak jacket and his sunglasses, but he was a secret softy. Especially for kids.

“Hey, boss. How’s training going?” Akino greeted him.

“Great. Naruto caught a caterpillar,” Kakashi said, sarcastically.

“Oh yeah?” Akino lowered his head until it was level with Naruto’s. “We got the makings of a fine hunter on our hands, eh?”

“Ak!” Naruto squealed. Hugging Akino’s muzzle. He tolerated it for a long moment then shook him off with a snort.

“Want me to mind him for a bit while you train, boss?” He glanced up.

“Please.” Kakashi said.

“C’mon then pup. We’re going on a grand adventure.” Akino grabbed Naruto by the back of his orange onesie. Reverse summoning the both of them.

Despite what he said to Akino he didn’t immediately start training. Instead he joined Pakkun on the boulder.

“Guess you were right again.” Kakashi’s shoulders slumped.

Pakkun nudged his hand with his nose. “Don’t look so miserable. It was a decent first try. You could always ask the Uchiha for help, if you are really that frustrated. Mikoto probably knows a lot about training kids. She has two of them.”

“I’m not talking to her unless I have to.”

“Okay, well. There’s always the Hokage.”

“No!” Kakashi said, forcefully. “I don’t need any help Pakkun. I can do it on my own.”

The Sandaime hadn’t wanted Kakashi to raise Naruto in the first place. If he learned he needed help he’d probably take him away.

Just the thought of it made him feel cold. He’d leave the village first.

Pakkun eyed him thoughtfully. “What about Sakumo’s pack? They’d come if you summoned them. All that baby training stuff your dad did with you— they were there for it all.”

“Raiken-sama? He’s probably—“ Kakashi turned his head away. Clearing his throat. “Probably too busy. None of them are going to want to deal with me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pakkun said, incredulous. “I wish they were too busy. Instead every time I’m home they corner me. Pestering me for details on what you and the pup have been up to.”

“Why would they care? They were Dad’s pack, not mine. They don’t have to do anything for me. That’s the way the canine summoning contract works.”

“Kakashi. They helped raised you for the first few years of your life it’s not like those feelings disappeared when Sakumo—“ Pakkun stopped. “They care, okay? Trust me. When I asked them for help with Naruto they nearly jumped me.”

“You asked them for help?” Kakashi said, quietly.

“Yeah. It’s not like I had a clue how to take care of a human pup. They really saved my hide.”

“Then you can ask them for advice on how to train babies too. There’s no need for me to talk to any of them.”

“I’m not doing that. You want the advice. You talk to them. I’m tired of Raiken of stepping on me and asking all sorts of questions. Do you know how big he has gotten? It’s terrifying.” Pakkun said, aggrieved.

Raiken had already been huge for a canine summon. If he had gotten much bigger he was probably on the way to becoming the size of a house. Boss summon territory. It made even less sense then that he wanted to talk to him.

Raiken was going places. Becoming S-rank strong.

And Kakashi was Kakashi.

“Fine. I’ll give it a try. Later.” Kakashi added. “Much later.”

He wanted to be alone when he tried to summon Raiken. He wouldn’t be able to handle the pity on Pakkun’s face if he didn’t come.

“That’s all I’m asking for.” Pakkun sighed. “I’m gonna head out. You got company coming.”

He jumped off the boulder. Leveling a stern look at Kakashi.

“You better be nice.” Pakkun reversed summoned himself.

Be nice? Kakashi thought bewildered. Who could it possibly be that his own summon would scold him over?

He inhaled. Cataloging the scents of the forest. The smell of smoke, steel, and dumb kid reached him.

Ah hell.

Don’t the Uchiha have anything better to do than bother him?

Sure enough it was little Itachi Uchiha hopping between branches over to him.

At least it wasn’t Mikoto.

Kakashi tensed up and pulled out his book. Making sure his face was barely visible behind it. He tried to look as busy and unapproachable as possible.

Which didn’t stop Itachi from landing on the ground next to the boulder with a soft thump. It was more noise than he’d usually make. A warning that he was here. How polite.

“I didn’t know you got promoted to jounin Itach-kun. Let me get out of your way.” Kakashi said.

“I am still a chuunin.” Itachi said. “I came here because I wanted to talk to you.”

Kakashi’s fingers tightened in irritation around his book.

Konoha had to be the nosiest hidden village in the world. Not a single one of its ninja could take a hint. One day, that’s all he wanted. One day where nobody wanted to talk to him about uncomfortable topics.

He was drained.

But he still had one last trick up his sleeve he could try.

Kakashi slouched, going nearly boneless from how much he relaxed. He dug his pinky into his ear.

“Maaa. I couldn’t quite hear that last bit Itachi-kun, but if you are a chuunin you shouldn’t be here. You could get hurt.”

“I said—“ Itachi began.

Kakashi got up. Groaning obnoxiously loud as he stretched. “Well. I gotta go. I promised to help my neighbor sort through their sock collection. It was nice seeing you.”

He relished the look on Itachi’s face as he shunshined away.

Back in the village he celebrated by getting some daifuku and eating it at the memorial stone.

Mission success. Conversation avoided.

[fingertipsmp3]

The other problem of course is that I don’t understand APA referencing and at this point I’m too afraid to ask

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[disenchantedif]

Either 27 (fluff) or 17 (general) for Cameron? Whichever you think fits best, sorry I couldn't choose lol.

"Are you blushing?" and "Are you jealous?" for Cameron.

Early relationship and M!Cameron. Also, AU where MC's university experience doesn't immediately go to shit.

This probably got way too long so I broke it up some, read the rest under the cut.

The university cafeteria is packed as always. You're certain it looks the same as most like it around the country except this one...well, one table is full of Nephilim lounging with their wings out and another has Basilisks partaking in a venom shooting competition.

Maybe it's a bit unique.

You're sat in the back corner with your laptop propped open, a document on magical politics open on one side of the screen. Your homework for Advanced Lightning Manipulation occupies the other side, though it's more doodles than any actual work so far.

You absentmindedly begin to pick at your sandwich when-

"Hells!" You jump, feeling a hand on your shoulder.

You twist around to see none other than Cameron with his hands up in surrender, smiling sheepishly. You also notice that all eyes are now on your previously secluded corner, and the whispers are already beginning.

They say kids are vicious, and you can attest to that better than anyone. Everybody always fails to mention that a shit ton of young adults crammed into a cafeteria can feel like facing down a pack of hyenas, though. They thrive on gossip, and what's juicier than a fling between the Chosen One and the Unchosen One?

Nothing. Nothing is the answer. Or it appears to be, at least, when every pair of eyes follow you both around every corner. You had just started to fade into obscurity, then Cameron had to come along and fuck it all up.

Again.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He says, keeping his voice down and out of range of prying ears.

"I wasn't scared." You huff, pushing your plate away.

You had already lost your appetite.

"It's no good?" His nose scrunches sympathetically as he sits beside you, "If you want, we can go grab dinner-"

"I don't have any money." You interrupt him, "Besides, it's fine. I'll take it back to my dorm."

"It probably tastes like cardboard." He jokes, but you see the way his eyes dart around, making sure no one approaches.

"Maybe, but it's food." You shrug, "I need to finish this anyway."

You nod at your assignment and his eyes light up when he recognizes it, "For Professor Karlin's class, right? I'm in another section of it, and the assignment is super easy. I can help if you want?"

You almost snap, say no and tell him to get lost. It's your gut instinct when it comes to Cameron; just get him to leave you the hell alone. Except you don't really want that anymore.

Which is the absolute weirdest feeling ever, to want Cameron Fletcher around. Theo would be laughing his ass off at you right now, and you're sure Viktor would give you his patented disappointed eyebrows.

"If you want." You say instead, still stiff but slowly relaxing as people grow bored of your apparently normal conversation.

If they wanted to see you throw a glass of Sprite in Cameron's face, they're about six months too late.

He twiddles his thumbs for a bit as you work, occasionally piping up in assistance, but his nervous energy is overwhelming.

"Is there something you're wanting to talk about?" You say, pretending to be uninterested as you read the same question five times over to look busy.

"Oh." He startles, "Um. Yes, actually."

It's silent for a moment, so you continue to prompt him, "About?"

"Um, this weekend." He glances down at his hands, "A bunch of the freshmen are going to Inferno."

You know Inferno well. Every supernatural person with even a slight social life in New York knows Inferno well. It's the only club around town that's hidden from mortal eyes; you have to be supernatural to get in...and twenty-one.

"Most of them aren't even old enough." You say, "They get fakes?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Theo knows someone." His face sours as he says his name, "That's actually what I wanted to ask you about."

"What? Inferno?" You raise an eyebrow, "I'm not going, if that's what you're wondering."

He gets what you're saying without you having to actually say it. You might enjoy parties or clubbing, getting a fake ID, living it up with friends.

You'll never know, though.

Your presence is like a sedative to any social gathering you attend. Usually, things just end up awkward and you leave early to go home and cry in the shower. At worst, someone mentions your reputation that so often proceeds you and you have to beat off a panic attack with a stick.

"I know." He says quickly, "I'm not asking you to go. I was actually going to suggest a movie night."

"Movie night?" You say, more than a little shocked, "You're that nervous about suggesting a movie night?"

"No." He twists the edge of his shirt between his hands and you almost feel sorry for the cotton, "I was going to ask if anyone else asked you to go?"

You blink at him, incredulous for a moment, "Cam, who the hell would ever ask me out?"

He frowns momentarily, "Off-topic, but you're a catch."

"I'm a walking bad luck charm." You scoff, "The question remains."

"I overheard Theo and Penelope talking in Alchemy." He explains, "Apparently they were both going to ask you to go."

His face lights up like a stoplight, the dark flush hard to spot against his tan but certainly there.

"Are you blushing?" You ask, eyes wide, "Cameron-"

"I just wanted to know if they did ask you." He frowns.

"They know we're...a thing." You say, unable to call it dating, "They knew you were listening and wanted to fuck with you."

His mouth drops open slightly before he closes it, lips pursed. He doesn't say anything for a moment, leading you to draw your own conclusions.

"Hold on, are you jealous?" You question, "Why would you be jealous?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He responds, catching you off guard, "Barely a year ago you couldn't tolerate me and everyone thought you and Theo were already dating."

"So?" You ask, "I never dated Theo. I've never wanted to date Theo. And, don't get me wrong, Penelope is gorgeous-"

"You're not helping."

"Like, drop-dead stunning-"

"Now you're just being an asshole."

"I would totally let her step on me kind of hot-"

Cameron groans and you finally take mercy on him.

"But she hasn't asked me either." You confirm, "As of now, I have movie plans with this annoying kid I used to go to school with."

He smiles hesitantly, "If they did ask you, would you rather go with one of them? I mean, I guess I'd understand."

Your brows furrow, studying the weight of the words before you respond, "If I wanted to be with someone else, I would. I want to be with you, though, so that's where I am."

He grins now, a full-on beam of sunshine glowing on his face, "I want to be with you, too."

"I hope so." You say, "I spent a lot of time convincing Viktor and Theo not to break your kneecaps. I'd hate to have that hard work go to waste."

He just sighs in response.