#probably gonna be up for like. ~3 hours if that effects anyone's choice

[callixton]

executive dysfunction is winning. i cannot make myself choose what to dooo

[just-null]

Cult leader 🐸, your yandere clones live in my head RENT FREE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

I need to know which of them got the first smooch from us 🫦

xoxo <3

They'd love to steal a kiss, but prefer to leave the decision up to you! If it were up to them, they'd too busy ripping each other's jaws off to get to you first. It's compensation for... you know.. the whole barging into your life thing, but you didn't seem to mind it!

Either way you'll get pros and cons. Whoever was the first absolutely dangles the fact over the others.

[what ifs under the cut!]

Sekido always uses the fact that he was your first in an argument. That means you favor his word over theirs, so they should listen! It's also a good reminder to get him in a better mood when he's livid. Waiting so long just to give him your first.. it makes his non-beating heart squeeze. "Your first kiss was mediocre at best, I don't know why I'm surprised, you'll need more practice with me."

If Sekido isn't the first, reminding him does the opposite effect and gets him in a really sour mood that's difficult to move on from. There's also his random outbursts where he purposely targets the first's face. and now a suddenly annoying weight on his chest makes him want to kiss you stupid for making such an obviously wrong choice the first time around!

Being first means bragging rights!!!!! Karaku loves to brag to anyone with ears even if it doesn't have to do with anything. A kiss is always the start to everything, you know? He knew you'd come around, but being so lucky like this? How could he keep his mouth shut? "Oh, what was that? Mnn~ That sounds like what someone who wasn't the first kiss would say! Kakaka!"

Karaku's extremely miffed if he's anything below first, but what does that matter when he can be your second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seve- Is it his lips or something that aren't desirable? what about the rest of him? Better yet! You have so many other firsts you can give him if you want! He'd kill for that! Do you want him to beg? He'll lose his mind if he doesn't have at least ONE of your firsts!!

Delightfully ecstatic doesn't come close to describing how happy Urogi is after the fact. He can fly around for hours with that moment playing in his mind over and over. When he's a bit too active, the thought will get him swaying left to right now lost in his own world while he misses you. "Instead of replaying the memory, Let's replicate it! Maybe make it longer? How about all day!!"

Similarly, Urogi HATES being reminded how he wasn't your first. It gets very violent very quickly, also extremely loud. He yells and calls the others derogatory names that they probably deserve. Also asks you questions like if you could back in time, would you choose him instead? His mood lightens up a bit if you say yes, but it ends the same, looping back to "then why not me the first time?!"

Aizetsu is the most normal after the kiss.. Flushed faced, averting eyes, shy touches, the whole shabang. He barely speaks, but he carries himself with this underlying smugness when you have to choose between them. In his mind, you've dubbed him as the favorite. "It's depressing choosing them after me, huh? Hopefully they get used to it soon.. I'm tired of them yelling at me.."

Now mirror that and you'll get a REALLY pouty Aizetsu, ear twitching with irritation when it's brought up. Can't that fact be left in the past? Preferably in the sun. Burned. Then impaled with his spear. Horrifically. Brutally. Repeatedly. Kiss him better and it'll chip away at his mood. He felt better after the initial comfort kiss, but he's not gonna reveal that. He wants more of your time.

Fingers crossed it's not mentioned ever again or it'll get messy!!!!

[lustlovehart]

Caught In Her Web

A/n: I love women

Pairing: Kafka x Reader

Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka

Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss

Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.

"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."

At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.

"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"

"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."

"Cut it out."

"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"

You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.

You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.

The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.

She has that effect on people you assume.

Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.

"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"

“I'm not gonna look at you."

Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.

"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."

"I doubt you'd give me a choice."

"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."

You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.

You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.

"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."

You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.

"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"

"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."

"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"

"Was that not obvious?"

"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."

"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."

"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."

"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"

"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.

You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.

"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"

The more you think, 3 hours left till what?

“Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."

Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.

“You don't, but I wish you did."

Keep... Date... As long... Possible...

She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.

“How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.

"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."

Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.

"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.

The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...

"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"

Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?

1 hour left.

"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."

"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.

“I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.

Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.

"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.

"Boom."

Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.

"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."

------

A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.

It's not beating. Your hearts not working.

"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.

She's familar.

"Do you remember me?"

"..."

She waits.

"Do you like me?"

“I…”

She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.

“Who are you?”

[itsbenedict]

Games I Played In 2023 And Whether Or Not I Thought They Were Good (Part 1/4)

Once again, a year has passed, and I spent a considerable chunk of it on video games! Here's what I thought about [e: some of] the ones that I played.

1 - [2] - [3] - [4]

Potionomics

This game is- well, I've never played a Recettear game, but apparently it's a Recettear knockoff? You run a potion shop, and you hire adventurers to go into dungeons to get ingredients for your potion shop, and the whole thing's on a timer where you have to pay off a big debt by the end... apparently there's a formula it's aping that I'm unfamiliar with.

But it's very fun- it's got two main unique mechanics, one of which is a potion-brewing minigame about balancing ingredients in certain ratios which is challenging- and the other of which is an STS-style deckbuilder card game where you haggle with customers in lieu of combat. Both systems have a lot of depth and interesting options and I enjoyed them a lot.

Other standouts: the cast of support characters you can rank up social links with are great (love love love the coffee-addled workaholic moth girl and the comic relief cat pirates with a surprisingly dark backstory), and the fully-animated 3D character portraits are really fun and expressive.

Nitpicks: the time system having one time block reserved for the hour it takes to go home after visiting town is... an awkward choice (holdover from the Recettear structure they're aping?), and lategame you kind of cap out in potion-making capacity and it becomes kind of tricky to progress. Also the story's kinda predictable and the villains who don't later become party members are paper-thin.

Horizon: Forbidden West

God this game pisses me off.

Horizon: Zero Dawn, its predecessor, was a fun open-world game about hunting robot dinosaurs and uncovering the surprisingly elaborate story behind why there are robot dinosaurs. I enjoyed it a lot!

Forbidden West has everything Zero Dawn had... and also mountains of tedious cruft to pad out the game's runtime which all infuriates me to no end.

The story is still quite good! And the robot dinosaur fighting is still quite good! Those are the important parts, and they nailed them... but I have complained at my friends for hours about the bafflingly bad design choices that plague every other aspect of this game constantly. It's... there's so much, I want to like, make a video going into the details, but in short...

The cool and versatile weapons from the last game have been split up into piles of slightly-different weapons with different elements so you have to carry around and upgrade ten times as much crap and are forced to spec into a build that locks you out of effective experimentation

Every little noncombat action in the game has some very realistic and pretty AAA graphics animation that takes too long and wastes your time constantly during basic gameplay and kills flow dead

The very cool procedural climbing mesh thing... gets arbitrarily turned off in inexplicably oiled-up puzzle ruins that very badly want you to push a crate around in every way it's possible to push a crate around in order to waste the maximum amount of your time

Cooking "system" which is the most comprehensively useless thing anyone probably spent dozens of hours implementing in their video game

Item wheel that contains every consumable item in the game regardless of whether you currently have any and is basically unnavigable during tense situations like, say, combat, when you need it

So many repetitive sidequests about some poor fucker who went missing and might be in danger and is every single time dead to a bunch of robot dinosaurs obviously. Lot of missions designed to kill time rather than show you something cool or have interesting story.

There's a lot to like and it's super cool but god there's so much to be mad at. Respects the player's time 0%. I'm gonna go off about this more later for sure.

Disco Elysium

Oh my god, this game. It's... really something. You might be familiar with it from memes on Tumblr, about its comically inept slash deranged protagonist and his partner with the patience of a saint- but it's doing so much more than I expected from the out-of-context screencaps.

Like- yes, it's fucking hilarious. I love that about it. But it's also this incredibly detailed work of worldbuilding that creates this whole setting that's doing... some wild stuff. Like, you've maybe heard it's very political? Well, it is, but about weird alternate universe sci-fi politics that sort of halfway resemble our own, and it's thought through all of these invented social dynamics. And it's got a great sense of atmosphere- it knows when to be funny and when to be solemn and how to blend the two for maximum effect. It's a dark comedy, but it's all built on a dead-serious reality and a really effective story.

And- it is a murder mystery game about solving cases! It works very well on that level! It manages to be open-ended and let you solve things in a variety of different ways using this complex RPG stat system of creatively-designed psychological stats, while making sure the central whodunit (and a bevy of fascinating satellite mysteries) stays on track. Extremely good on a game design level.

(also some shit happens in this game that i was not at all expecting and can't even go into without spoilers, but- but holy fuck, the way this game opens up and the things it manages to hide in plain sight... just mind-boggling. incredibly impressive.)

Tunic

Speaking of hiding things in plain sight- neither this nor Disco Elysium came out this year, so I can't call either of them GotY, but... if they had, I'd have a hard time deciding.

Tunic is incredibly clever. On the surface, it's an isometric soulslike thing with a low-poly Zelda-y aesthetic... but there's not just the surface. There's layers and layers to this thing. The first layer it hits you with is that most of the game's UI is in a made-up rune script, which you have to learn, which is a fun challenge and caused me to spend a few hours making a tool to catalogue and decrypt the damn thing- though I eventually learned to sight-read it. But that's just- that's like, the tip of the iceberg, the most obvious twist to what this game is.

There's, like... I don't want to spoil what there's like. The whole thing is about peeling back the layers and figuring out which seemingly arbitrary aesthetic choices were secretly meaningful, and seeing how the game transforms as you figure out the different sorts of secret structure layered on top of each other. It's actually best compared to The Witness, although there's still a pretty meaty and challenging action-adventure game to tackle while you're uncovering the hidden patterns and deepest lore. It's a fascinating intellectual challenge and highly recommended to anyone who likes giving their noggin something to chew on.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Man, so... this game is very impressive, but it's in a weird place due to some awkward design decisions and cut corners.

This is a direct sequel to smash megahit Breath of the Wild... sort of. It's very weird what it's doing. It really wants to be a self-contained thing, to the point of throwing out major setting elements and story concepts from BotW entirely so it can do its own thing... but on a mechanical level, this is the same game, with some very cool new mechanics and a cool-ish new story bolted on.

(Said story... it has one extremely cool plot twist that's also a gameplay twist, delivered effectively in a nonlinear way that creates this great sense of dawning comprehension. Otherwise... kind of a nothingburger. Ganondorf is boring and has no coherent motivation, there's no explanation or real plot relevance to the [spoilers] that seem like such a central thing, and... the whole thing revolves around a technologically advanced precursor civilization that's completely different from the technologically advanced precursor civilization established by the last game, of which all evidence has been meticulously scrubbed from the world to... I guess avoid confusion? The one huge central plot beat really works, and the rest is... low-effort nonsense.)

So, mechanically... the developers made this very odd choice to... have the game take place in the exact same map from the first game, except warped and remixed by geologic upheaval just enough to force the environment designers to redo every bit of landscape more or less from scratch. Like, all the same recognizable locations, but a step to the left. In theory, not a bad idea- but then they layer on top of that a threefold expansion to the world.

TotK has three world maps- Hyrule, the sky (full of floating islands now), and a third spoilery area that's the same size as both of those. The game's economy is thus weirdly trifurcated- crucial resources are located in all three areas, so you need to go up and down and up and down a lot. And so is the game's content- there's a roughly comparable amount of stuff in BotW and TotK, but TotK splits it across three maps, making each area feel largely empty, with a lot of wasted space.

This effect is especially noticeable in Hyrule, which... if you've played BotW, you won't really find anything new there. It's all the same places with a few tweaks, so there's not much sense of discovery if you played the original. There's a bunch of landmarks and areas that exist purely because they were there before and it'd be weird for them to disappear... except now instead of some secret or loot there, there's just nothing. Wasted space. And both the sky and the other new map are pretty homogeneous and unrewarding to explore once you've seen the four or five types of things they have to offer- they're mainly made up of recycled assets.

TotK is... I think strictly better than BotW, with more content and more fun core mechanics, but it's a worse experience than BotW if you played the first one. If you haven't played BotW, Hyrule will still be fun to explore, and you probably want to jump straight to TotK.

-

I'm... gonna have to break this post up to get to the 21 other games I played this year, otherwise it's gonna be stupid long and take forever. Stay tuned!

1 - [2] - [3] - [4]

[rhyske]

oh my god, Belphie is such a sweetheart! I love the little black spot on his nose and it looks like he has eyeliner and that is too cute! oh so when i called him escape artist i wasn't too far of huh? haha

I have 3 cats and one was an accident. My mom wanted a ragdoll so we got Tex, and we also got Slinky (a black house cat) so she would have a friend. Then I found a grey stray in my village and I took him in and named him Totmes, my baby. the girls don't like him very much (eww boys!🤢). Totmes and Slinky love the balcony but especially Totmes, he'll be there all day in the sun and I worry the sun will melt his brain or something.

So far Mass Effect is all right but I think I've come to the conclusion that I like fantasy more than sci-fi but maybe I am wrong and I'll be obsessed with it in a minute. The romance options for ME1 are... not great but I am planning to romance Liara in the first one at least and see how it turns out and then I might pursue someone else when the options open up in the second game. My brother played femshep and romanced Garrus so I want to do something different than that even tho he's so cool. For roleplay purposes I'll have Garrus as more of a best friend character to my femshep.

that's how I approached it in dragon age too. Varric was Hawke's bestie and Fenris was OBVIOUSLY the romance option cause he's just that good imo. In inquisition, Dorian was Lavellan's best friend and Solas was her romance option because of the DramaTM.

I try to play my characters as separate from me so sometimes I choose the mean option and I'm just like I'M SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO BE MEAN BUT SHE WOULD SAY THAT AAAA. Lavellan was pretty grumpy at the end... well the beginning too because she never wanted to be the inquisitor.

ANYWAY mass effect has been difficult because the full dialogue isn't really what i expect from the little text option. sometimes it feels like the choices doesn't matter? idk but i'll figure it out!

this is the first time I've properly played D&D so it's a bit of a learning experience for me! what did you use to play as? ^^ 💜

He's precious 🥰 Haha, yeah, no, literally half an hour after I responded to you I found the front door open and him nowhere to be found. He's safe, he realized we found out and came running back 😂

Does Totmes have a lot of brain cells? Could be they are actually melting. I joke that Belphie killed his last brain cell when, the first day we got him, he forgot cars have windows and tried jumping out, only to smack his head into the window. I love when cats kinda choose you as their owner and not the other way around 😆 Your cats sound so precious 💕

I definitely think ME1 is the weakest of all the games. I wasn't super invested in it my first time around (and it's still a bit more of a chore to get through whenever I replay), so I don't blame you there. Just hold out until ME2, it's the game that made me fall in love with the series. Yeah the romances...are very lacking in 1. They branch out so much in 2 and 3.

GASP YOU ARENT GONNA ROMANCE GARRUS??? As someone who is a rabid Shakarian fan and can't romance anyone but the dumb turian boy, I am obligated to say you are making a mistake 😂 But if Garrus didn't exist, I'd probably romance Liara so 😆 Thane is also a good contender, you'll meet him in 2 😏

Dorian was my Lavellan's BFF too! I always imagine one going to the other like "GIRL GUESS WHAT." Tali/Liara always end up being my Shep's BFF. I imagine them having girl nights and gossiping a lot 😆

I didn't like how Inquisition just....ignored your origin. Like, when you play as a Lavellan, you don't follow the Maker. You might not even know how most shemlan cities operate! And you want me to be your religious idol??? No thanks! But nothing is ever done about it and it's frustrating.

I always tend to play as if I was in the MC's shoes. And it's helped me learn a lot about myself, tbh. But I can't be mean to most characters cause it makes me feel bad 😭 Unless they deserve it.

Choices do matter (: You'll see your choices echo through the games, in what ways you can approach missions (Paragon vs Renegade) and how people remember you (if you were rude or polite). How much attention you put into your teammates is a big mechanic in 2, for example. It's hard to see how your choices change things until 2, since y'know, first game and all. Keep at it!

I played as an elf rogue my first, and only time, playing DnD. That was my first ever exposure to DnD, so I knew nothing. Now that I know a lot more, I wanna play again and really lean into the roleplay and the shenanigans. Who are you playing as? :D

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

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

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

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

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

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

word count: 24.2k

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

///

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

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

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

Harry still hates clubs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far from it, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like your dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It felt really nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

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

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

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

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

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

I’ll see you there, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

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

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

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

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

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

“Ask for permission.” 

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

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need interior design advice. 

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

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

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

Genuinely? 

Yup!

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

Alright, shoot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immature? 

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

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touché.

Exactly. 

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

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

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

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

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

Maybe.

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

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read my mind.

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

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

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

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

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

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

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

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

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit. 

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders. 

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance. 

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person. 

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

[multi-obsessed-fanfic-writer]

The War Within (Anakin x Reader)

Author’s Note: I hope this is what you wanted, anon! I had a lot of fun writing this & all the angst in it :) let me know if you guys have any other requests or feedback for me! You’re all amazing <3

Requested?: Yes, by anon- “hi dear, could i request an oneshot where the reader was anakin's wife before he turned into vader,and when we turned (he comed to the dark side,but don't burned in mustafar,like he don't use the suit) he thought she was dead but in fact she joined the rebelion, and now she is Captured for interrogation and he finds out that she was alive and had the twins (leia and luke). Srry if it's too long or confusing, english is not my first language and it's very hard write complex things. have a nice day ( ˘ ³˘)��”

Summary: You deal with the repercussions of your husband turning to the dark side while you join the rebellion. 

The War Within

Anakin Skywalker x female!reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: depictions of canon-type violence & torture, like one curse, and a lot of angst (but also fluff!)

“Anakin has turned to the dark side,” Obi-Wan tells you, sorrow dancing in his expression as he looks at you. You stare back with defiance.

“You’re lying! Anakin would never do such a thing. He’s sworn to defend this galaxy.” You sneer, turning away from Obi-Wan. You’re a couple of months pregnant with Anakin’s child, as he has been your husband in secret for a while now. Your bump hasn’t shown yet, luckily.

“He was deceived by a lie, (Y/n). We all were. Listen to me, when did you see him last?” Obi-Wan asks, stepping in front of you again. 

“That’s unimportant! Anakin would never turn to the dark side, he’s the most caring person I know!” You scream, tears pricking at your eyes.

“I saw it myself. There’s...a security hologram of him killing...younglings. In the temple. You were away, but...he’s gone mad, (Y/n). He’s a danger to himself and everyone around him. Help the Jedi. You’re one of us. You know what the right thing to do is.” Obi-Wan tries to convince you. You look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks by now.

“Do I? Your Jedi order is the one that got us here- he- I don’t…” You sob, sitting down on the nearest thing as the emotions start to overwhelm you. 

“Reach out to him, (Y/n). Through the force. Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth.” He murmurs to you.

You do as he says, confident that Anakin won’t prove you wrong. Your Anakin could never turn to the dark side and do such horrible things.

Then you feel it.

“Ani!” You gasp, breaking out of your trance as your hand flies to your stomach to hold your barely-there baby bump. More tears spill down your cheeks as you feel the darkness that surrounds Anakin’s force signature.

“You know it, now. Please, do you have any information on where he might be?” He asks. You put a hand over your mouth to trap the sobs, one hand still resting on your stomach.

“Are you going to kill him?” You ask, looking up at Obi-Wan. His eyes glance down to your hand cradling your stomach.

“...You’re pregnant, aren’t you? And Anakin’s the father?” Obi-Wan asks. You don’t answer him, just look down as the salty tears drip from your chin onto your robes.

“Please don’t kill my husband,” You whisper.

“I will do what I must,” Obi-Wan says and turns around to make his exit. He turns back around to look at you one last time and says, “I’m sorry.” 

Then he’s gone. And so is your hope of living a happy life.

~+~

It’s been four years since you gave birth to Luke and Leia. During that time, you had helped establish the rebellion against the empire. You’re the current leader, dedicating your time to fighting against the evils that haunt the galaxy. You know Anakin is out there, and he calls himself Darth Vader now. You honestly hope to never run into him, knowing that you won’t be able to face the consequences if you can’t turn him back to the light. If he stays dark and rejects you, you’re not sure what you’ll do then. It’s the ultimate slap in the face for you. 

“General Skywalker, we’re under attack!” You hear from the entrance of the rebellion base you’re currently hiding out at. Your head whips to one of your men being shot down by a stormtrooper at the entrance. 

Your body kicks into action before your brain does.

“Get Luke and Leia out of here!” You yell, gently pushing your children toward a group of the men you had been leading.

“But general, what about you-”

“I can handle myself. Get them out of here, I can’t have them getting hurt. I’ll be right behind you guys and I’ll catch up with you later.” You hurriedly rush everyone out of the back of the base.

“We’re not leaving you behind, sir!” Your right-hand man and closest friend, Bail Organa, insists. You hear the stormtroopers getting closer.

Turning around, you give the group a small sad smile.

“You don’t have a choice.” You use the force to slam the door shut and crunch the doors into place so that they are harder to move. 

“Freeze!” You hear a modulated voice behind you. You raise your hands slowly and turn around, coming face-to-face with a platoon of stormtroopers with their blasters aimed at you.

“How unfortunate that it must resort to violence,” You sigh, obviously not that disgruntled about the situation.

“Remove your weapon slowly.” The stormtrooper at the front commands, gesturing to the lightsaber at your waist.

“What, this old thing? Oh, please, I don’t know if it even still works,” You scoff, unlatching it from your waist. You twist it around in your hand for a second, not making a move to set it down yet.

“Put it on the ground!” The stormtrooper demands.

“Relax! It’s not like I’m going to do,” You ponder for a moment, looking at the weapon, “this.” 

In less than an instant, you’ve lunged at the first stormtrooper in the front and cut him in half with your lightsaber. You cut through men left and right, dodging the blaster fire or deflecting it back onto them.

However, the more stormtroopers you get rid of, the more stormtroopers flood in. Eventually, you’re corner into a wall as you try your best to keep the upper hand.

“We have an order not to kill! Drop the weapon!” There’s a frenzy of orders as you try to fight your way out, but it’s no use.

After a few more minutes of fighting, you get hit with a shock that sends jolts through your body until everything goes dark and you feel your body hit the ground.

~+~

You wake up to a dingy, dark cell aboard an unknown imperial ship. You’re currently on both your knees with your hands and feet chained behind your back. 

You know where you are. You’d heard descriptions from spies about this ship before. No one has made it back alive. Yet.

The cell door opens, causing you to wince at the sliver of light it blinds you with. Two stormtroopers walk in with blasters aimed at you and a cart behind them.

“What are you gonna do with those fancy tools, hm?” You crack a smile, eyeing the silver cart behind them with curiosity. They stay silent, picking up a small blade from the cart.

“Tell us about the rebellion. What are your plans to overtake the empire?” One of the stormtroopers, the one not holding the knife, asks you. You stay quiet, making as much eye contact as you think you can through the visor of his helmet.

“We know you’re the leader of the rebellion! You should talk before your information hurts you.” The other trooper demands. You glare up at them from your kneeling position. 

The first one, without the knife, kneels next to you and puts his blaster to your head.

“I could pull the trigger right now and no one would even care.” He gets close to your face, taunting you. You look at him directly and do something you’re not sure anyone’s ever dared to do on this ship before.

You spit on his helmet.

Immediately after your spit makes contact with his helmet, you feel a knife slash across your left ribs. The wound starts bleeding viciously, indicating that the cut is probably pretty deep.

You cry out sharply at the new pain, but immediately clench your jaw shut to keep as much satisfaction from them as possible.

“Need to rethink your answer?” The knife-wielding stormtrooper asks.

“Never.”

“I guess we’ll have to get to work, then.”

~+~

That continued for a few hours. Then a few days. After about a week and a half, they were getting frustrated. You’re guessing it’s because their superior is starting to pressure them more. That pressure is probably life or death.

“Listen, bitch. You’re going to talk or you’re going to get someone new in here and you’ll like him a lot less.” The first stormtrooper, whom you’ve nicknamed Blaster, threatens you.

“Try me.” You growl. This earns you a sharp slap across the face and some blood on the floor. 

“That’s it, man. We’ve been at this for over a week. I think it’s time to call the boss.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“Fine. Let’s go get him.”

~+~

That was the last thing you heard for three days. You went the next three days without light, food, or contact of any kind. Luckily, they had given your chains a little slack so that you could change positions occasionally. 

Currently, you’re facing the wall and meditating. You had gotten good at meditating after Anakin turned to the dark side. You were constantly trying to reach out to him, but he would never let you. There was a wall in the way of some kind, he couldn’t even tell you were there. 

Suddenly, you hear the door slide open behind you and you see the lights turn on. You grimace at the light but try not to let it distract you. There’s an especially dark force behind you, but you can’t tell who it might be.

“Well? Don’t think you can intimidate me by just standing there in the darkness. Come in here if you really want to make me talk.” You scoff, knowing that the hall light is still off. You can feel it. Whoever this is, they want the effect of a dramatic entrance.

“You sound familiar...did I know you?” The voice finally speaks behind you. The realization makes you go cold.

It’s Anakin.

You don’t know how to respond for a moment, whether to turn around and cry out for him or to stay cold and unforgiving to this man you no longer know. You opt for the latter option.

“You did...at one point.” You pray to the force that your voice stays even, not showing any signs of weakness. Your heart is the complete opposite, hammering in your chest like you’re on the brink of death. You honestly might be.

“What is your name?” He asks, and you hear him step forward into the room. You take a deep breath and steel your nerves.

“(Y/n) Skywalker.” You finally turn around and stare into the cold eyes of the man you once loved.

She sees the posture of Darth Vader go slack as he stares into her eyes. His own eyes lose their anger and his pupils dilate slightly, taking her in. You see the yellow of his eyes start to fade already.

“(Y/n)?” He asks and the edge in his voice is gone. You hear the old Anakin through the façade of the powerful man in front of you.

“It’s me, Ani.” You smile slightly. You’re getting to him just by him seeing you, which is better than you ever imagined.

“I...You...You’re dead. Obi-Wan told me that...you died. I thought...I thought the Jedi got rid of you.” He seems completely breathless from just the sight of you, questioning everything he’s been working on for the past four years.

“Why would they do that? I was one of their best assets. Besides, did you...did you never look for me? At least for my force signature?” You ask, eyes softening as the old Ani comes back to you. The Anakin that you knew and fell in love with. Your husband.

“No, I...I lost all hope...You…” He screws his eyes shut. You can feel the internal battle he’s having currently. The struggle between the light and dark raging just beneath the surface of him. He was so wrapped up in the darkness but the mere sight of you has awakened the light he didn’t know he still had in him and it’s torturing him.

“Ani…” You murmur, wanting so badly to be free of these chains so you can reach out to him and help.

“No.” his eyes open forcefully and the yellow iris of the dark side has returned, staring coldly at you in front of him. Your heart aches but you know that this isn’t easy for him. It’s not just a switch he can flip, but you’re willing to keep trying. If the first appearance of you is anything to go by, he’s now teetering on the edge and you just have to gain enough traction to push him over to the light side.

“Anakin, I’m alive. Look at me,” You plead, looking at him with love adorned eyes. The love you had for your Anakin never faded. After all, Darth Vader is not your Anakin. But he can be your Anakin again.

“You may as well be dead to me now. After all this time, you knew I was alive and you plotted against me. You turned against me.” He growls, and you see his fingers twitch. You had heard about the infamous force-choke that he was known to subject people to if he was angry. You’d have to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

“No...Anakin-”

“That’s Darth Vader to you!” He yells, lashing his hand out to grip your throat with the force. You notice that he does not immediately choke you or lift you off the ground, just leaves the force there as a threat.

“I turned against Darth Vader. I never once turned my back on my husband, Anakin Skywalker. I never will, either. Anakin’s legacy will live on through me and our children.” You promise, staring defiantly at him even though he’s threatening you. The force leaves its grip around your throat and you see his body go slack once more at your words. His hand drops to his waist.

“Our...children?” He murmurs, the softness returning to his voice. Once again you see the battle ensue in him. The storm batters his mind endlessly as the yellow starts to fade again. 

“Yes. I gave birth to Luke and Leia Skywalker. They’re beautiful, Ani. They’re ours. I love them. And your storm troopers almost killed them.” You tell him, hoping that he sees the light through this. Through your little family.

“Almost...killed…” He trails off, and through the force, you can see how wretched he feels. He’s so torn between the two sides that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself at this moment. You watch as he drops to his knees and lets out a feral scream as he clutches his head in his hands. You want so desperately to hold him at this moment. More than anything else you just want to hold him and help him.

But you can’t. This is his battle, not yours, and you’re currently chained to a wall.

“Come back to me, Ani. Return to me. Please. Together we can rid the galaxy of evil and restore it to peace and justice. Help me. Help me raise our children….help me live a full life with you. Let me love you.” You beg, struggling against your chains as the tears start to fall down your dirty and battered cheeks. You hurt for him so much, the force and your bond only intensifying the pain you feel for him.

“Join...Join me, (Y/n). Join me here. We can be more powerful than you ever realized. We can rule the galaxy together. Me and you. Side by side. As it’s meant to be. Free of the Jedi on your side.” Anakin grits his teeth and looks up at you again. His demand is less of a demand and more of a plea. His eyes fade in and out of yellow, and you can see that the light is starting to win. The dark is desperately clinging onto him, but it’s not dominating anymore. You can do this.

“The Jedi are no longer. You made sure of that, Anakin. I...I only know of a few left alive. A few that you didn’t kill. The Jedi order has disbanded. There is only the rebellion left. The rebellion that I formed. The rebellion that we can lead to victory, to a new world, side by side. Obi-Wan is there. Your friend, your former master. Ahsoka is there, your friend and former padawan. Together we can lead in the light, it doesn’t have to become dark again. Please. Join me with our friends and our family.” You ask of him, straining hard against the chains that keep you away from him. He clutches his head in his hands again, breaths coming out labored and in pain. 

“Side by side?” He asks, almost shaking from the utter pain he is in.

“In the light. We’ll be powerful together just not here. You don’t need the dark side to be powerful. As long as we have each other we’ll be fine. I’m not dead. Nothing’s been able to get rid of me yet. Maybe this has been my destiny all along. To bring the chosen one back to the light side so that he may restore balance to the universe. Maybe my destiny has been to love you all along. We were never meant to be a bad thing.” You murmur, eyes searching his figure for any sign of the light as he battles his instinct versus his feelings.

Then he goes still.

“...Okay.” He looks up at you, his eyes shining a bright blue. More tears stream down your face, but this time they aren’t in pain. They’re tears of joy.

You reach out with the force, brushing against his force signature and feeling the light force that emanates from him. You let out a happy sob, wanting to embrace him. He crushes the chains that keep you from him, freeing you from your captivity. You run to him and he envelops you in a deep embrace. Your face presses against his chest as your tears ruin his former uniform. Oh well, he won’t be needing it anymore.

“I love you. I never stopped.” You whisper into his chest, clinging onto him like a dying woman.

“I never stopped loving you. It’s...it’s what fueled my anger. Your supposed death.” He admits, holding you close to him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re back. We’ll never be separated anymore. I’ll make sure of it.” You promise, looking back up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“We’ll make sure of it together.” He cups your face, tilting it up and pressing his lips to yours tenderly but hungrily. The tears mix into your kiss, creating a salty taste. But neither of you cares. You had both been waiting for this moment for much too long to care about tears in the way.

When you finally break away, you let out a half-chuckle that gets caught in your throat. This is certainly a situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Now, how are we going to get out of here?” You ask, not daring to let him go even now.

“Leave that to me.” He tells you, brushing the hair behind your ear as he gazes at you lovingly.

Within moments, you’re back in chains and he’s leading you down the hallway, an angry façade on his face.

“Sir!” The stormtroopers salute him as the two of you walk down the hallway. 

They’re terrified of him, you realize.

“Sir, where are you taking the prisoner?” A stormtrooper dares to ask, to which Anakin shoots him a glare and raises his hand threateningly.

“Imperial business, trooper. Know your place.” He growls, pushing you forward. You realize that Anakin has had your lightsaber strapped to his waist this entire time, making you smile. He knows it’s yours and he probably planned on asking you how you had gotten it before he realized who his prisoner was.

“S-Sorry, sir.” The trooper backs down immediately. The two of you make it to the docking area with no problems. Until one stormtrooper has some audacity.

“Sir...are you feeling well? You don’t look normal...wait a second, men! He’s not on our side-” Before he can finish, Anakin has cut him in half with his striking red lightsaber. The other troopers caught onto the cry for help, though, and are now aiming their blasters at the two of you.

“Well, I suppose we couldn’t have a clean getaway, could we?” You give Anakin a small mischievous smile that he returns.

“Not likely with the two of us,” He chuckles. The two of you spring into action. You realize you’re still bound by chains at the wrist so you put it over a trooper's head and start choking him, using his body as a shield until you can’t anymore.

“Saber!” You call out to Anakin. In a moment, he’s throwing your lightsaber to you. You catch it and activate it, cutting your chains in half. Now you’re ready to battle.

The two of you weave through troopers with ease, fighting back to back as if nothing had changed. You deflect blaster shots left and right, swinging through troopers as you make your way to the getaway ship. 

Within mere moments, the two of you are on the loading ramp of the ship. Anakin goes to turn the ship on and the ramp starts to close. You lower your saber, thinking the fighting is over. Before you can react, Anakin is pressed against you again and deflecting a shot behind your back with his lightsaber. You turn just in time to see him crush the trooper that tried to kill you with the force. You frown slightly, knowing that there’s still a hint of aggressiveness and probably darkness in Anakin, but it’s nothing you can’t work on.

He’s back now, and that’s what matters.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Anakin asks, sitting down in the pilot’s seat and offering you a wide smile. This is probably the most he’s smiled in four years.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.” You smile back at him.

~+~

Once you’re back to your lead rebel base, you’re immediately greeted by a crowd. Out of the crowd emerges three figures: Bail Organa, Luke, and Leia. You crouch down as Luke and Leia run up to you and hug you.

“Mommy!” They cheer, laughing as you stand up and twirl around with them in your arms. They giggle as you set them down, clearly happy to see you again.

“You’re back. Congratulations, I didn’t know if we’d see you again.” Bail gives you a chuckle of relief as he gives you a clap on the back.

“Well, it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t found someone…” You trail off, looking behind you to see a sheepish Anakin step out. You sense the nerves radiating off of him. I mean, he is entering the camp that less than twenty-four hours ago he had promised to destroy.

The crowd of rebels takes a nervous step back, not sure how to react to your news. This was their sworn enemy, and now you’re claiming he helped you?

“How can you trust him?” Bail asks, sizing Anakin up with one hand ready on his blaster.

“He’s my husband.” You state plainly. This shocks the crowd.

“Your husband?” 

“When did you two get married?”

“You’ve only been captured a couple of weeks!”

The crowd’s responses make you chuckle.

“I was married to Anakin Skywalker much before he became Darth Vader. He thought I was dead but...the sight of me made him abandon his sith side. He’s back to being Anakin Skywalker...my husband. I love him, and he will be accepted here.” You all-but-command. The crowd seems to ease just a little bit, but not much.

“Daddy?” Leia asks, a small look of skepticism on her face as she looks at Anakin. You see Anakin’s eyes shine with tears as he looks at his daughter, hearing her call him dad for the first time ever.

“I thought you said dad died.” Luke tugs on your leg, almost hiding behind you. You chuckle lightly.

“He did for a little bit, but...he’s back now. And he’s going to be a part of our life. We’re going to be a happy family now, okay?” You smile, tears pricking at your eyes for the third time that day alone as you look at your little family. The family you finally get to have.

“Okay…” The two of them cautiously approach Anakin. He kneels down, and they start to talk. You know they won’t be welcoming immediately, as he’s a stranger to them, but given time...you know that you can be a happy family again.

And with this thought, the hope of living a happy life returns to you. And this time, you know it’s here to stay.

~~~~~

Tags: @thesmallestalien @rowley-with-ackerman @official-hitmxn

[night-fallz]

A Slow process

Percy wanted to believe that the fates have finally gotten bored of her. However, she was quickly proven wrong when her life only continued to get worse. Overwhelmed with grief and despair, all Percy wants is to erase the godly DNA from her genes and forget it as a whole. She wants a break from the gods. A break from the demigods. And a break from the mythological world as a whole. Sadly, she never got what she wanted before. So why would this time be any different?

A few days after the war, Percy is suddenly thrown into the non-pit version of hell. Surrounded with manipulation and toxicity, she tries to run away from it all. But it doesn't work. She's faced with a choice, go back to her father's kingdom or join the Young Justice team.

- -

(A female Percy Jackson and Young Justice fanfic crossover.)

⚠️ I will be covering triggering topics like... ⚠️

- Drug Abuse

- Addiction

- Self-harm

- Suicide

- Verbal & Physical abuse

- Sexual harassment

Note: It might take a while for Percy and the Young Justice team to meet. But don't worry, they will.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

next

Chapter 1

Persephone Jackson felt like she could not breathe. They’ve been fighting for hours and the giants still haven’t shown up. And considering that the gods haven’t appeared to help them fight their battles, she couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Where the hades were they?

Fuck, her whole body was aching with pain and the headache she got a few minutes ago (probably due to dehydration) was not helping.

Her legs and arms could stop working any second. They were running out of time. Where were the gods? They did not risk their lives to travel all the way to Greece just so they could stay cuddled up on Olympus.

Percy was getting slower. She was tired. A glance at the battlefield showed that the rest of the seven were getting affected too.

The ground began to rumble. Percy forced herself to conserve any energy she had left.

The giants have finally arrived with another army of monsters. Percy hoped that this was going to be the final battle but it was unlikely.

After defeating the giants, they'll still have to fight Earth itself, Gaea.

Luckily for them, the gods have finally managed to grace them with their presence. Percy suddenly felt her energy rush back to her. She glanced up at the sky. It was raining.

While Percy was thankful for the water, it would probably do more harm than good during the battle. The demigods weren’t water-resistant like her.

As if knowing what she was thinking, her father snapped his fingers and suddenly the rest of the seven weren’t soaked with water anymore. It was still raining but the water just avoided them.

The demigods waited for the army to run up to them, wanting to conserve as much energy as they could before they realized that they weren’t as tired as they were before. They glanced at their respective parents in surprise, giving them a silent thank you before they got ready for the fight of their lives.

Percy was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. It was like she had her Achilles Heel again, nothing could touch her. The rain continued to supply her with energy as well as giving her more power to use. She was playing a dangerous dance, her sword was slashing and stabbing monsters left and right, as she made a whirlpool of water and made it go the opposite direction she was heading, right where Hazel was.

Hazel sent her a thankful smile as they fought together, back to back as they made their way towards Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t help but be relieved when she saw the grey-eyed girl. Her wise girl was okay. Fighting next to Annabeth reminded Percy of the Titan War.

They survived that, so they have to survive this as well.

Percy sent another whirlpool of water in the direction that Piper was. “Remind me to thank your dad for the small boost of power he gave us.” she heard her girlfriend whisper.

Percy nodded, “But first we have to survive, okay?”

Annabeth nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Jason flew down to where their group, holding Leo in his arms and Frank quickly followed, changing back to his human form.

The Seven were all back to back. Ready to defend each other’s blind spots.

3

2

1

Hazel snapped her fingers, making a majority of the monsters confused. This gave Piper the opportunity to charmspeak the monsters.

Her soft, angelic voice echoed through the battlefield, appealing to their enemy’s ears. “You don’t wanna fight us. You wanna leave the seven of us alone. Instead, you want to get revenge on the ones that have wronged you. Isn’t that why you sided with Earth? For revenge?”

Piper glanced at Hazel and Hazel nodded, closing her eyes in concentration as the snap of her finger seemed to echo in every monster’s mind.

It worked. A majority of the monsters were fighting each other. This gave us a moment to catch our breath.

Percy glanced up at the sky. Rain was still falling and the remaining monsters were soaked. She had an idea.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Shock them.”

His blue eyes looked at me with confusion before nodding, understanding what the demigoddess wanted him to do.

If there was one thing Percy learned during science class, it was that water and electricity do not go well together.

Jason’s sent a shockwave towards the final group of monsters heading out, causing them to evaporate in golden dust.

She glanced to where my father was. They were just standing there, watching us.

Did they not learn anything from the last war?

Did they even help other than agreeing to give the rest of the seven my father’s temporary blessing?

Percy felt the ground rumbling again. The giants have finally arrived.

She smelt the ocean next to me and knew that my father and his family had finally decided to help.

With the gods on their side, the demigods knew they wouldn’t lose this battle. Percy fought harder than she ever fought before. She matched the giant from toe to toe and after a few minutes, Percy finally got the opening she was looking for and slashed Polybotes’s chest with Riptide. She nodded at her dad as he held up his trident, sending a steaming, hot pressurized bolt of water in the place where Percy slashed him. Polybotes wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

She finally got a chance to look at the battlefield and she tried not to flinch in shock.

It wasn’t looking good. So far, Percy and her father were the only ones who’ve killed their respective giant.

Her father stood next to her, “So, who are we helping first?”

Percy tried not to look shocked at the fact that he was gonna stay in help and managed to steadily say, “Let’s help Athena and Annabeth first. With me and Annabeth fighting together, we can help Piper defeat Periboia. And if you and Lady Athena decide to stay, then all of us will be able to have a bigger chance of surviving.”

Percy turned away from her father so that she couldn’t see how her father reacted with her silent jab at him. Instead, she ran to where her girlfriend was, ready to help her fight Enceladus.

Percy tried to use the water to hold the giant’s legs so that Annabeth wouldn’t get stepped on.

The water was getting harder to control. She wouldn’t be able to hold it any longer. Suddenly, Percy noticed that she wasn't using up as much energy anymore. It was like the water had gotten easier in control.

She glanced up and saw her father with a confident glint in his eyes. She muttered a thank you and let the water she was controlling go, leaving her fate up to her dads.

Together, Annabeth and Percy charged. Percy lifted Annabeth with water so that the blonde girl could temporarily confuse the giant.

Thank gods, for Annnabeth’s aim. She managed to throw her new drakon-bone sword at his eye, making him stumble.

Her father let go of the water he was controlling, causing the Enceladus to fall on his butt. This gave Athena the opening to stab him right in the chest.

He exploded in golden dust.

She inspected the battlefield again and couldn’t help but sigh in relief. They were winning.

Leo and Hephaestus managed to defeat Otis by using fire to burn him alive.

That’s one less giant to worry about. Three down, three more to go.

She turned to her dad and Lady Athena, “Go help Jason and King Zeus, they’ll need all the help they can get when fighting Porphyrion. I’ll help Piper defeat Periboia.” She turned to Annabeth, “Go help Leo and Lord Hephaestus with Ephialtes.”

Annabeth nodded, “When this is over, you better be alive Seaweed Brain.”

Percy couldn’t help but give her girlfriend a small smile, one that she returned before running to where Leo was.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Athena disappear in a flurry of owls and saw her father dissolved in mist.

She took a deep breath and ran to help her sister in all but blood. Aphrodite was floating around them on a small white cloud, throwing rose petals in the giantess’s murky brown eyes effectively making her blind for a few seconds.

Percy blocked a strike that could’ve killed Piper, “Need a hand?”

Piper nodded, “Yes please.”

Aphrodite noticed Percy and yelled out some nice encouragement, “Kill this ugly dumpster wanna-be, girls.” Doves came from out of nowhere and clawed on the giantess, “I’m gonna need to wash my eyes with bleach after this battle. I’ve never seen anyone as hideous as her.”

The giantess growled in frustration, “WATCH WHAT YOU SAY, YOU LITTLE BIT-“

While the giantess yelled at Aphrodite, Percy and Piper slit the giantess’s stomach open with their respective weapon, leaving the bane of Aphrodite at the mercy of doves.

Percy noticed that there was only one more giant left to beat. The bane of Zeus, Porphyrion.

Percy was running out of energy. Luckily, every giant except one has been beaten.

Unluckily, it was the strongest giant.

Aphrodite flashed Piper and Percy on her cloud, allowing both Piper and Percy to catch their breaths for a few seconds.

While Zeus and Jason looked like they haven’t slept in a month, Porphyrion stood tall, looking like he just woke up from a nice nap.

“Oh gods,” Piper muttered worriedly, looking at Jason. “This isn’t good.”

Percy studied Jason more intently. He was covered in blood due to all the cuts he had all over him yet not a drop had fallen on the ground. Jason tried to stand tall but the giant only laughed. “This is the great son of Jupiter?” his words echoed through Percy’s skull. “Pathetic.”

Jason charged towards the giant but he only smacked the blue-eyed boy away. Before Jason could hit the ruins, Percy raised her hand, cushioning his fall with the water.

Zeus looked at her with gratitude and while having her a subtle nod.

Percy jumped off the cloud, allowing the wind to carry her next to her uncle and as if they rehearsed it, they charged.

The rest followed. Athena and Annabeth were distracting the giants as Aphrodite summoned more doves to claw the giant. When she deemed that there were enough doves, she threw rose petals at the giant’s eyes. Trying to get him temporarily blinded.

Percy stared at the giant's feet and yelled to her father, “HIS FEET, WRAP IT IN WATER.”

Poseidon followed her instructions and she turned to Zeus. “Throw a lightning bolt and aim it on the water. That should shock him for a few minutes and that’s enough time for us to kill him.”

Her uncle nodded, pointing a finger at the giant's feet. Porphyrion groaned in pain as the demigods charged.

But of course, something had to go wrong. As they charged, Porphyrion somehow got enough energy to throw a broken piece of a building towards them. Percy dodged it but Hazel wasn’t as lucky.

It was silent for a few seconds before Hazel’s blood-curdling screams filled the air. Percy bit back a cry. A person that she could proudly call her younger sister was gone.

Blinded by anger, Frank turned to an eagle and flew with the speed that could make Hermes jealous.

But charging in like that was a mistake.

And Frank paid for it.

It didn’t matter how fast Frank tried to attack the giant. All Porphyrion had to do was hold his arm up, to catch Frank in his hand, and crush his fist, effectively breaking all of Frank’s bones and killing him in the process.

He slowly opened his crushed fist, as if teasing them. After a few torturous seconds, he dropped a pale, limp eagle as Frank’s blood dripped into the floor.

The ground rumbled. They haven’t been fighting Porphyrion for five minutes yet two people are already dead. And Gaea could awake at any second. She had the two sacrifices she needed. The blood of a male and female demigod.

It was like Percy’s brain was working against her. As she attacked the giant, the noises around her became muffled before quickly becoming inaudible. All Percy could hear were Hazel’s painful screams and the sound of Frank’s body being crushed.

It shouldn’t have been possible, Percy’s brain tried to argue. Frank couldn’t have died until his stick was nothing but ashes.

Percy quickly shook that thought out of her head. She can figure everything out when the bane of Zeus has been defeated.

Minutes have passed and Percy finally saw an opening. She mustered up all the energy she had left and made a giant slit on the giant's stomach, covering her with even more gold dust.

Without wasting another second, Poseidon sent a stream of pressurized water on the wound, causing Porphyrion to yell in frustration, “IF YOU END UP KILLING ME, I’LL TAKE AT LEAST ONE OF YOU WITH ME!”

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Zeus was preparing to send a bolt of lightning to the giant but before the lightning hit Porphyrion, he reached out his arm, trying to grab the closest demigod next to him.

It felt like Percy was fighting Kronos again. Everything was in slow motion except for the moves of her enemy.

She began to run forward but her moves began to get sluggish. “NO!” Percy managed to yell, realizing who the giant had grabbed. “ANNABETH!”

It was too late. Annabeth let out a scream full of pain and it continuously echoed throughout Percy’s skull.

Porphyrion exploded in golden dust, forcing Annabeth’s body to slam against the rough concrete.

Percy quickly ran towards Annabeth’s motionless body, stumbling forward as she kneeled next. Her usual tanned skin was now sickly pale, covered with burns. Her stormy grey eyes seemed to tell Percy all the suffering that she went through.

She cradled as much of Annabeth’s body as she could, not being bothered with all the blood that Percy was exposing her tattered shirt to.

Annabeth was gone.

And she didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Percy felt the ground shake underneath her. Before she forced herself to get up, Percy closed Annabeth’s eyes as a final sign of respect to her girlfriend.

Percy felt the ground shake again. Although this time it was more violent, knocking down the old temples.

Piper’s usual bright eyes were full of tears, causing Percy to realize that she was crying as well.

Percy turned to Leo who was wiping away any stray tear that left his eye. His cracked voice seemed to echo through Athena as he whispered, “There’s only four of us left. Piper needs to charmspeak her, I’m the fire. And,” His eyes drifted to Jason’s body. “You guys have to make the storm.”

“Where are the gods?”

Piper and Leo glanced at each other. “They left. Right after we defeated Porphyrion the gods vanished.”

“Like poof.” Leo sadly added.

They lost three of the best demigods of this generation by fighting against Porphyrion, how could the gods expect them to defeat Gaea with no help? Or at least without all the demigods dying in the process?

“Uhm- guys,” Piper’s voice snapped Percy out of her thoughts. “We better get ready.”

Leo and Percy turned to where Piper’s eyes were focusing. The dirt seemed like it was rising, forming the shape of a female.

“Gaea,” Percy whispered. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

They nodded hesitantly as they made their way to Jason’s body, which was still in a cocoon of water. Percy lifted her hand and slowly made the water evaporate.

Piper hesitated before she whispered a shaky, yet firm command. “Wake up!”

Jason’s eyes opened and he groaned, What happened?”

“She’s awake.” Percy ignored his question, “Do you remember the plan?”

Jason nodded, trying to stand up before he quickly fell again. “I can’t stand,” he whispered in shock.

Percy tried to stay strong. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe. “When we win this, I’ll force Apollo to heal you.” Jason gave her a grateful grin, “Do you think you have enough energy to fly all of us up?”

Jason shook his head, “I only have enough energy to fly two people up and if I have to carry her up as well, then maybe I can carry one person.” He grimaced. “Although that might be pushing my luck.”

“That’s not good. And we know that gods chose to sit this battle out.” Percy let out an ear-piercing whistle before muttering a small, “Hopefully that’ll work.”

Two pegasi formed in front of them. “That’s never happened before,” Leo mentioned.

Percy nodded in agreement. The gods sent us, Blackjack transmitted in Percy’s head. They said the ancient laws forbid them from helping any more than they already did.

Percy forced herself not to roll her eyes. What a bunch of bullshit. Instead, she faced her friends, “Piper and I will take Blackjack. Leo, will you be alright with Spade?”

Leo turned to the white Pegasi and nodded. “Aye, aye ma’am.”

Percy and the others exchanged grins. Even in the most dire situation, you could count on Leo to make a joke. She turned to Jason. “Whatever you do, make sure she isn’t touching the ground.”

Jason nodded. “We got this. We can win.”

Percy didn’t know whether he was that confident in his abilities to win or if he was trying to convince himself.

It was probably the latter.

Percy turned to Piper who’s been quiet so far. “You ready?” she asked.

“Yep.” Piper played with her torn shirt, “It’s just a lot of pressure.”

Percy understood what she meant. So she grabbed Piper and Leo’s arm, tugging them closer to Jason and herself. “Group hug.” Her voice was hoarse and it cracked. She was thankful that they ignored it and just melted into the hug. “I love you guys.” She reminded them. “I’m so lucky that I got to meet all of you.”

One by one, the rest of them repeated her gesture. Deep down, they all knew that this was their way of saying goodbye. Just in case they didn’t make it out.

Percy helped Piper up on Blackjack and she gave Jason a final glance before instructing her pegasi to fly to where Gaea resided.

On the mound of dirt, Percy saw a figure standing.

Gaea had such delicate features on her face that it would’ve made her seem innocent. She had honey brown hair that framed her face, bringing out her dangerous green eyes.

Her voice was sickly sweet as she said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, well. We’re here.” Percy heard Leo sarcastically say, “So, you ready to lose?”

“Leo Valdez.”

“That’s my name.” Leo cheekily grinned, “Don’t wear it out.”

Gaea continued like she didn’t hear the elfish boy, “Out of everyone who died today, I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

Even though Percy knew Leo was trying not to let that bother him, it did. And from the smirk on Gaea’s face, she knew it as well.

Before things could further escalate, Percy yelled “NOW!”

The winds around them picked up forcing the pegasi to fly higher, in order to not get caught.

Percy felt the winds twisting around, forming a tornado underneath the primordial.

Leo tried to distract Gaea by hurling insults at her. “HEY POTTY SLUDGE, OVER HERE!”

The goddess ignored Leo until Piper finally spoke up, her kaleidoscope eyes glowing. “Gaea,” her voice was commanding. “You want to listen to me.”

“SILENCE!”

“You are weary.” Piper’s voice was full of sympathy, “You are so, so tired.”

“LIES!” Gaea yelled.

Leo gave up on insulting the goddess, instead threw fire at the goddess. Distracting her from the tornado forming below her feet.

With Gaea’s attention on Leo, Percy began to assist Jason in lifting Gaea higher. She summoned water, slowly adding it to his hurricane.

Gaea began to rise higher. And they followed.

“YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME.” Gaea’s form turned to dirt but the water that Percy added caught it before it reached the ground. Seemingly giving up on trying to go through the water, Gaea re-formed back to a human. “I AM ETERNAL!” she cried

“ETERNALLY ANNOYING!” Leo yelled as he urged Spade higher.

“Get me closer.” Piper urged Percy, “I need to be next to her.”

“The fire and the wind-“ Percy tried to argue.

“I know.”

Percy sighed knowing there was no talking Piper out of this as she moved in until they were right next to Gaea.

“FOOLISH DEMIGODS!” her face contorted into Annabeth, causing both Piper and Percy to hesitate for a brief second.

“Millennia of sorrow.” Piper told the goddess, her voice dripping with pity, “Your husband, he was abusive wasn’t he?”

The goddess started to nod before stopping when she noticed what she was doing, “LIES!”

Piper continued, seemingly unfazed. “You know, you did the right thing.” Gaea turned to Piper shocked, stopping all her attacks. “Cutting him into tiny pieces so that he can never hurt you again. After all, you just wanted to keep your kids safe, right?”

Percy’s eyes met Leo’s. She concentrated, forcing rain to slowly fall from the sky again. Percy made sure not to let the rain touch Gaea so that all her attention would stay on Piper.

Leo’s eyes were tight shut and Percy felt the air becoming warm. You could still hear the rain hitting the pavement in the background. Put together, the two of them just made the atmosphere perfect for sleeping.

Everything was relying on Piper now.

“All that pain. All that suffering.” Piper’s voice was soothing. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired.”

Gaea snapped out of the trance she was in. “I-YOU DO NOT-“

Piper pretended not to hear her and continued. “You want one thing.” Piper’s words made Percy’s bone shake, “Just one small thing. You’re just so tired of all the stupid and arrogant gods and demigods getting in the way.” Piper lowered her voice. As if telling the goddess a secret, “YOU—WANT—SLEEP.”

“NO!” the goddess groaned. “NO!”

Before Gaea’s body went limp, she held out her arm.

Piper quickly turned to Percy, “We only have a few minutes. My charmspeak won’t- AGHHH”

A thorny vine was creeping up Piper’s leg, trying to drag her down.

“Piper!” Percy screamed, “Give me your hand.”

“I- It’s too late.” Piper gasped in pain, the thorns twisted their way into her leg.

“No, it’s not.” Percy tried to argue, grasping Piper’s hand tighter.“ We can’t lose you too.” she turned to Leo. “Can you try to burn the vine?”

Even from afar, Percy could see Leo’s eyes tearing up. “No.” He whispered. “If I do, I might burn up her whole body.”

“Percy.” her attention went back to one of her closest friends. “Let me go.”

Percy felt the tears falling from her eyes as she shook her head. “NO!” she cried. “I can't! Not you too.”

Piper’s eyes were filled with determination as they met hers. “Don’t let our sacrifices go to waste.” She took in a deep breath. “Percy, let me go.”

Without hesitation, she let go. When Percy realized what happened, she tried to reach for Piper’s hand.

But it was too late.

That’s when she noticed Jason flying towards his girlfriend.

He could save her.

Jason forced the winds to carry his body to Piper’s. He managed to grab onto her waist, but the winds failed him and gave the vines a chance to wrap their thorns around him as well. They held onto each other as the thorns twisted into their body, tearing them into shreds.

“No.” Percy said in disbelief, “No!”

She felt Leo fly next to her. “Come on, Percy.” He gently urged. “We still have to defeat her. Piper’s right. We can’t let their deaths be in vain.”

Percy could only nod, she turned to Leo. He looked like he was made of fire. Realizing what he was about to do, she grabbed his arm. Not caring that it might burn her. “Leo, you can’t.” her voice was cracking, “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, Percy.” He patted Blackjack. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, okay?”

I’ll try. She heard Blackjack’s voice in her head.

“I’m sorry, Perce.” he gave her a regretful smile. “Just make sure to keep her in the air and trust me.”

Without another glance, Leo threw himself onto the unsuspecting goddess.

Blackjack tried to fly as far away as he could but as soon as Percy heard a high-pitched scream, she used all her leftover energy and dissolved her body into mist.

Gaea began to brightly glow so Percy grabbed Leo’s arm, covered his eyes, and vapor traveled them out before the primordial could explode in golden light.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Leo woke up and slowly stood as he tried to get rid of as much dust and ash as he could. He stumbled forward to the silent battlefield.

As Leo looked around, he finally noticed how bloody everything was. It felt like he crashed onto a cemented wall as his memories from the battle came flooding back.

Oh gods, he wanted to cry. They’re dead. They’re all gone.

Except for Percy. His mind argued. The two of them were the only ones left.

“PERCY!” he shouted. “ARE YOU HERE?” Leo continued to walk, his scratchy voice cutting the silence that the former battlefield was just enveloped in. “PERCY!”

A few minutes passed and Leo started to lose hope.

What if she’s dead? his mind whispered.

Stop it. He tried to argue, he couldn’t think like that.

Why? His head continued to taunt. If she’s dead, it’s gonna be all your fault. She saved you. She’s only dead because she saved you.

“No, no, no,” Leo whispered, pulling his hair. “NO! Stop it.” He screamed. “It’s not my fault.”

“Deep breaths.” He heard a familiar voice whisper. “In and out.”

He followed the voice's directions and his eyesight cleared up. “Percy!” he practically flew to her in order to give her a hug. “You’re okay,” he assured himself. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, but...” her voice trailed off and Leo noticed that she was holding something or rather someone. “He’s not.”

Percy was holding a deformed eagle. Its whole body was crushed, “Is that Frank?” He couldn’t believe it, “How is he still alive?”

“His stick.” Percy reminded him. “It didn’t burn.” no one said anything for a while. “Leo,” Percy’s voice faltered. “There’s only three of us left alive.”

“Yeah?” Leo questioned, thinking that it was obvious.

“No, I mean-“ Percy stammered, “A few years ago, Chiron told me that the number three was sacred to the Greek world.”

Leo suddenly understood what she was implying. The three of them alive marked the end of their quest.

They won. But at what cost?

All of a sudden, a small stick- the size of his pinky finger appeared in Percy’s hand. It seems that even the gods pitied the son of Mars.

He watched as her eyes stared at the only thing keeping Frank alive, contemplating what to do.

They didn’t want Frank to go.

He was the only other person who understood what the both of them went through.

They were the last three demigods who survived Gaea but looking at him, Leo knew it would be selfish to keep Frank alive. Every bone he had was crushed.

He spent the last few hours of his life in so much pain. And there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. Nothing. The least they could do was take him out of his misery.

Leo knew that Percy realized that as well when she hesitantly handed the stick to Leo, “Do it.”

And Leo did.

They could only watch as both the stick and their friend disintegrated into ashes.

Frank didn’t die in the hands of their enemy. Instead, he gladly died in the hands of the last, two trusted members of the seven.

As Percy and Leo watched Frank’s ashes disappear into the wind, they hoped that the souls of each demigod that died in this war made it to Elysium, where they can live in peace. They deserved it.

They said nothing for a while. The air was filled with a comfortable silence as they figured out what to do next.

“Do you have enough energy to get us back to the Argo II?” Leo abruptly asked.

“I think so.” Percy’s voice sounded so tired that Leo regretted asking her. After all, she did most of the heavy lifting in their fight against the giants. It was honestly scary. She fought with the precision of a goddess, it didn’t help that she had the looks of one as well. “Hold on tight.”

Leo felt his body dissolve before getting back together again. His mind felt dizzy as his feet touched the solid ground.

When his head cleared up, he noticed the familiar walls of his ship. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

It was all over.

Percy moved near him, “What are you gonna do now?”

“I fixed Festus and I plan on using him to find Calypso. She’s on an island called-“

“Ogygia.” Percy frowned, “I met her once but after the second titan war, I used one of my wishes to get her free.”

“The gods suck.” Leo bluntly stated, “After the last giant was defeated they disappeared. Athena didn’t even check on Annabeth!” Percy nodded, “They did the bare necessity and then they left without even a goodbye.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “If you find Calypso, tell her I said that I was sorry. I really believed that the gods let her free.”

“She’ll forgive you.” He assured, “And it’s not your fault anyway. And Percy?” She faced him, “I’m probably not gonna go back to camp. There are just too many memories and I can’t handle that right now.”

Percy nodded in agreement. “I get what you mean. I just want a break from the godly world. I don’t want to see any mythological creatures again. And if we head back to camp, the gods are just gonna give us another quest.”

They shared a look of agreement. There was always another quest.

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to, so let’s just try to make ourselves look as presentable as possible. Then we can head on our separate ways.” He advised.

Percy closed the distance between them and gave him another hug. This wasn’t goodbye, they would see each other again. “Make sure you stay safe. If you ever need help, just IM me. It doesn’t matter if they’re watching, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Leo found himself saying “I will.” before they both went to their respective rooms.

Leo quickly grabbed his belongings, stopping in the Med Bay filling up a random backpack he found with all the supplies he needed.

He made sure that his belt was still on his waist and that it wasn’t loose. If worse came to worse, he could summon almost anything he needed.

With a final glance at the direction Percy went, Leo pressed a few buttons on the suitcase on his desk before throwing it out into the air.

“Come on, Festus!” Leo called out, “The faster we get out of here, the better.”

Festus lowered his body, giving Leo a chance to climb up. After making sure that all their supplies wouldn’t fall, Festus lifted them onto the sky, flying towards the unknown.

[puckinghell]

today i heard someone say "i don't wanna date, i just want my best friend to fall in love with me" and i thought it would make a really good fic!!! maybe you could write it with petey, for his birthday?

That’s a really cute idea. Just a little blurb but hopefully you like it!!

--

You love the boys, you really do, but…

“Shut up, Brock,” you hiss, slamming your beer glass down on the table with a little too much force. Some of the contents sloshes over the edge, but you know Brock is about to buy you a new one: after everything that he’s done tonight, it’s the least he can do.

“Why?” Brock asks, puppy eyes in full effect. “I’m just asking a question!”

What Brock is doing, actually, is opening a can of worms you really don’t want to get opened. You’re good at keeping your feelings close to your chest, have been good at that for ages.

You kinda had no choice. Falling in love with your best friend is dangerous stuff, especially when he’s really not interested in that at all, and you can’t be caught slipping up.

So you don’t go there, normally. But it’s obvious, really, to anyone with eyes. Brock likes to tease you that the sun shines out of your eyes whenever you look at Elias, and Troy simply raises his eyebrows in judgmental manner whenever you stare at Elias a little too long.

And unfortunately, your friends don’t have enough of a moral compass to refrain from teasing you about it.

“You’re not just asking a question,” you quote Brock sarcastically. “You’re being annoying.”

It’s always fun to go out with the boys, so whenever Elias asks you to tag along on their bar crawls, you always say yes. Somehow the topic got turned to your dating life, however, and the only reason you haven’t stabbed Brock to death with the umbrella that came in Jake’s cocktail is that Elias as last seen being beat into the ground at pool by Jacob, so he’s not here to hear about your pathetic love life – or lack thereof.

“I just think,” Brock starts, voice betraying the beginning of a monologue, “that if you’re not gonna do anything about your feelings for Petey, you have to try and get over him. And getting over someone works best when you get under someone else.” He points towards the general area of the bar. “There’s guys there! Just pick one.”

Jake snorts. “It’s not a supermarket, Boes. She can’t just pick up random guys and hope one’s good enough.”

“Exactly,” you say, thankful to have at least one person on your side. The happiness lasts for about a second, because then Jake clearly decides to betray you.

“But I don’t think it’s a bad idea to go on some dates.”

“Really, Tuna, you too?” you frown, putting as much betrayal as you can into your voice. He has the decency to at least look a little sheepish.

“Just a few dates. You don’t know what could happen.”

“I don’t wanna go on dates!” Frustration is ringing clear in your voice. “That might be fun for you, being professional athletes, rich, hot, and men, but going on dates for me means telling my friends exactly where I’m gonna be at whatever time during the night because I’m worried about getting murdered. It means having nothing to talk about and sitting through 3 hours of silence, or listening to men brag about their accomplishments while not even bothering to learn my name. Going on dates isn’t fun.”

You stubbornly cross your arms. Brock and Jake are staring at you with wide eyes, as if you’ve said something crazy; you groan.

“I don’t want to go on dates with random people, I want my best friend to fall in love with me!”

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind you. Normally you probably wouldn’t even notice it, but this one is a little too familiar to be ignored. Within a split second, you realize why Jake and Brock were staring.

Elias is standing behind you, looking at you with confused eyes. His hands are limply by his side.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” Brock says.

“Elias,” you start, but the sentence dies on your lips. What could you say? I didn’t mean it would be a lie, I can explain would lead into something you really don’t want to do.

For a second, Elias seems to be at a loss for words, which is not something that happens to your best friend a lot.

“I’m your best friend,” he says finally, and it’s like the words are sinking into his brain at the exact moment he speaks them. His eyes widen, realization settles into his features, and suddenly you can’t do this.

You can’t watch the horror take over his face, you can’t hear the pity in his voice as he tries to let you down gently. You can’t take Brock and Jake’s sorrowful look of guilt.

So you book it: you throw yourself out of the booth before anyone can say anything and all but run towards the exit of the bar, bumping into Marky on the way out.

“Y/N?” he calls after you, clearly worried, but you don’t stop.

Tears are starting to make their way to your eyes and you don’t want anyone to see that. Instead, you push the door open. Cold winter air hits you in the face and you feel it in your lungs as you inhale.

For a second, it calms you down enough that you have the mind to grab your phone and open the Uber app.

You should’ve expected Elias to follow you, but for some reason it still comes as a surprise when you hear his footsteps behind you.

It’s a little weird, maybe, that you would recognize his footsteps, that you would know it’s him before you’ve seen or heard him. But he’s so familiar that your body reacts to him even without your knowledge, muscles relaxing when he silently stands next to you.

Normally, you would lean against him, in a situation like this. This time you stare stoically ahead.

There’s chatter coming from inside the bar, but it’s quiet outside. It’s cold, but the night is clear. It’s a lovely set of juxtapositions, you suppose, like the way your heart is breaking at the hands of your favorite person; your best friend, who has done nothing wrong.

Suddenly you feel something warm, featherlight against your fingers. Elias’ hands are rough with callouses but they are gentle, and when he carefully and oh so slowly threads his fingers through yours, you don’t stop him. You don’t pull away. You should, probably, but God, you don’t want to.

If everything is going to change, you can allow yourself this memory, of getting so close to what you wanted.

“I don’t like going on dates either,” Elias says out of nowhere. His voice is soft but it cuts through the quiet night anyway.

It’s not at all what you expected him to say, and it startles a laugh out of you. When you look up, there’s a content tug to his lips, like he’s pleased to hear your laughter.

“But I like going on dates with you.”

Those words are even more unexpected and the laughter dies on your lips. Confusion takes over. “Elias, we’ve never been on a date.”

Elias hums. He takes a while to respond. “Haven’t we, though?” he asks, finally. “We’ve been to lots of restaurants, cinemas. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners. Movie nights at home. We’ve gone skating, hiking, golfing.” He grins. “Taken romantic strolls through the park.”

You snort. “Taking Brock’s dogs for a walk isn’t a romantic stroll.”

Elias’ response is quick. “But it could be.”

You don’t have a reply for that. Your heart is beating in your chest a million miles an hour; you feel like you can’t breathe, because it feels like Elias is saying something you couldn’t ever imagine hearing him say.

“Y/N.” Elias’ voice is soft, but urgent, so you focus back on him. “You’re my best friend.”

“I know.” And you do: you wouldn’t ever doubt that, you know what you mean to him.

“That’s why it’s scary. Because I don’t want to lose you if it goes wrong. But that’s also why it’s not scary at all, right? Because we’ve been doing this for a long time, we just didn’t put a name to it.” He shrugs, easily, like his words aren’t turning your whole world upside down. “But I already know I’m my happiest when I’m with you, and I know I always want to spend all of my time with you.”

Your head snaps up. When your eyes catch his, there’s nothing there but truth and honesty. Hope lights up inside your heart like a beacon of light.

“You said… You said you want your best friend to fall in love with you.” Elias smiles, small and private, but happy. “But I already did that a long time ago.”

Like a tidal wave of happiness, a smile spreads across your face. You’re about to step in, to finally kiss Elias like you’ve been wanting all that time, when a car pulls up.

“You already ordered an Uber for us?” Elias says, tone teasing and light. “Someone is eager.”

“I didn’t say you were invited,” you snap, but Elias simply laughs because in reality you both know that he’s invited.

You think for the past few years, there was never a place you went that Elias wasn’t invited to.

“I suppose I could just go,” Elias trails, and you latch onto his hands tightly, keeping them firmly in your own.

He’s not going anywhere, not if it’s up to you. And when he squeezes your hand in the back of the Uber, you’re pretty sure he’s not going anywhere if it’s up to him, either.

[lil-lycanthropy]

How to write an essay (especially when you struggle with writing essays)

[Image Description: A graphic titled “BASIC ESSAY STRUCTURE”. There are 3 sections. The first section is regarding the introduction, labelled “Agonize for an hour”. The second section is regarding the body, labelled “oh hell yes i can do this no problem i got stuff to say i’m on a roll”. The third section is regarding the conclusion, labelled “I am going to walk into the sea”. /End Image Description]

I saw this post about essay writing with this as the structure and I just. Screamed a bit. The outline above (imo) makes a very boring essay that is UNNECESSARILY DIFFICULT to write. I was gonna just add onto the post, but I thought I’d make my own because I have a LOT to say.

So, to start off, I have spent far too long making this handy-dandy graphic with an essay structure that I find to be a lot more helpful.

[Image Description: A graphic titled “ESSAY OUTLINE”. There are 7 sections. They include the outline for the Introduction, Body, and Conclusion, along with tips for all three, and then a section for General Tips. /End Image Description]

There’s some pretty lengthy explanations under the cut, and I spent way too long on this. However, I’m passionate about writing and hate seeing how much people struggle to write simply because they haven’t been given the right tools.

Without further ado, here we go!

Introduction (1 paragraph)

Opening Statement: This is your intro/hook. With an effective opening sentence, you want to introduce the main topic of the paper, and make it interesting for the reader to draw them in. The introductory sentence should be somewhat objective; your thesis will be your arguing point, but we need to know the general topic without the bias. As for the hook part—your prof/TA/teacher/whoever is grading your paper has read the same paper 600 times. Your paper probably won’t be entirely unique, BUT you can still make it stand out. This is where the “hook” comes in. An easy way to do this is to simply start with a verb. Reading papers that all start with “the” or “a” can get really repetitive and boring, so an action word can be a good way to grab the reader’s attention. You don’t want your opening statement to be too long; a sentence or two should be your goal.

Allude to Thesis: Right after the opening statement, use a sentence to briefly allude to your thesis (the stance you’ll be taking on the topic). This way, you can state your argument points without having to worry about wording your thesis correctly right away, or risk your thesis getting lost within the introduction. This is kinda a segue to your points rather than its own official “section”, so keep it brief. 

Outline Supporting Points: These are the points that help support your argument. Avoid using a list form for this by using things like semi-colons or commas; each supporting point should have its own sentence. Saying that, definitely use transition words to help the sentences flow together so it doesn’t just seem like a laundry list. Don’t limit yourself to three points unless that’s explicitly part of the assignment. At least two is good if you can expand on them enough to do the paper, but don’t be afraid to use four or five if you’re still able to stay within the limits and expand on them enough to be individual points. However, sometimes too many points can make it hard to expand, so see if you can group some together if you have too many. 

Thesis: Your thesis should be a statement, subjective, demonstrable, and specific. It therefore should not be a question, objective, hypothetical, or vague. This is because your thesis is a definitive stance on a specific issue or topic that you can prove with evidence. As for placement, I always put my thesis at the very end of the introduction. I would say it’s up to personal preference whether to put it at the beginning or the end, but please never put it in the middle. When it’s in the middle, it’s very likely that it won’t stand out as a thesis, and then you’d have to come up with both an opening and closing statement, which is hard. I like putting it at the end because I find that if I do it at the beginning, it can be REALLY hard to balance having a clear thesis while also introducing your paper and making it interesting. Plus, if it’s at the end of your first paragraph, it still stands out, you don’t have to do a concluding statement, you don’t have to balance any other aspect of writing (like an intro or hook) with it, AND it creates the perfect transition to your supporting points. Limit your thesis statement to one or two sentences—you want it to stand out to the reader as the thesis, and you don’t want to muddle the message by being too detailed. You’ll have the rest of the paper to expand.

Body (2-10+ paragraphs)

Introduce Evidence: For each piece of supporting evidence (your main points), make sure you introduce them clearly before actually explaining everything about them. Don’t be afraid to word it in an interesting way (although remember, you still want your message to be clear!). I also want to give you an incredibly important tip: the amount of supporting points you have DOES NOT have to correspond with the amount of body paragraphs you have. They drill the five-paragraph essay outline into you for years, and it’s BORING—for you and whoever’s grading your paper. It’s also bad writing, because then you get unnaturally long paragraphs that take up a page and a half. So, unless your assignment rubric says otherwise, don’t be afraid to get creative with the paragraph amount. Always start a new paragraph when introducing a new main point, but definitely consider splitting the main point into two or three paragraphs if needed. Disclaimer: sometimes if you have to split a point into multiple paragraphs, that means you might want to consider splitting the main point into multiple main points. On the other hand, sometimes combining two main points into one can help make a paragraph more substantial.

Expand: For each point, expand. Explain any extra details. Relate the explanations back to your main point so you can stay on target and not go on tangents that take up half the page. 

Connect to Thesis: After you expand each point, as a concluding statement, relate the main point back to the thesis (the whole point of the paper!). Anyone can list evidence—show that you understand why this evidence is connected and how it proves your stance. If you can’t connect the point to your thesis, it’s probably not relevant or you need to do more research. By making the connection between the evidence and your thesis, 1. This is how you get bonus marks, and 2. It makes for an excellent concluding statement/transition to the next main point.

Repeat: For each main point, follow the structure of introduce-expand-connect.

Conclusion (1 paragraph)

Restate Thesis/Main Points: Rather than coming up with another introductory statement, restate your thesis and the main points that helped to prove your thesis. Please try to reword it so it’s not repetitive, and it’s best to keep the restating brief. You’ve already established all of this in your paper, so you don’t need too much detail. A sentence or two is fine. Another tip is to avoid basic concluding words. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but definitely avoid the ones that involve the word “conclude” or its derivatives (e.g. “in conclusion”; to conclude”, etc.). Keep this part to one or two sentences to avoid the dreaded repetition.

Explain Relevance/Make Connections: Here is something I NEVER see in the common essay templates, and honestly, I feel like it’s one of the most important things with essay writing. It’s the difference between just another essay in a pile of 200, and one that stands out as exemplary. SO. We know your thesis. We know your evidence. You’ve even briefly restated it in case we forgot. Now, WHY is your thesis (and by extension, the paper you just spent a few hours on) actually important? Why is it relevant? Who cares? You don’t want to give too much “new” information, but you really should be able to find some connection as to why your paper matters. Because if you don’t see the point in it, how are you gonna convince the reader that your paper is worth reading? Essays are about arguments, yes, and convincing people that You’re Correct and You Know Things, but you need to be able to connect with other things to see the true relevance. Make connections, folks!

Concluding Statement: Truly the bane of anyone’s existence. A good tip is to look at it as your Mic Drop moment—your time to wrap it up, drop the mic, and walk offstage. Tie your thesis, evidence, and connections together into a sentence or two with a little pizzazz and sense of finality, leaving no room to argue. 

General Tips

Know your audience: This can sometimes help with finding the balance between over- and under-explaining things. With essays, the person grading (the audience) is probably a bit above your current level, unless it’s being marked by another student or something. So write at your level—or the average level of your class/group. For example, if you’re in a second-year university biology class, you probably don’t need to explain what photosynthesis means. But if your essay is on a little known technique to measure chlorophyll levels in plants, you might need to explain some things that you already know, but others might not. Remember, your goal is neither to dumb yourself down nor put yourself on an academic pedestal—your goal is to communicate a message in an effective way that can be understood by the appropriate audience.

Pick a relevant topic: Sometimes this doesn’t apply, as you have limited choices. But, whenever possible, choose a topic that you actually know something about and/or are willing to write about. Sometimes even asking your teacher/prof if you can choose your own topic is worth it. The main point: picking something you find interesting makes you more willing to put in the work to write a good essay. Pick you favourite topic out of the options (or, at a minimum, the one yo hate the least).

Experiment with the writing process: Some people swear it’s easier to write the conclusion first, while others absolutely have to write the essay in chronological order. Some people need to finish what they start, some people need to flit around and add things as they think of them. Ultimately, the order you write things is very much a personal preference, and something worth experimenting with if you’re struggling!

Cater to your writing needs: Writers will tell you that they need to set up a space to write. Some people like writing on their bed or in a cafe. Some people need absolute quiet while others can’t focus without background noise. Some people need frequent breaks for the best results, others need to sit through until they’re done. The time of day can affect your writing—writing in the morning might be really difficult if you’re most alert at midnight. Lastly, experiment with different media. Maybe writing on a laptop just doesn’t work for you, and pen and paper is the way to go. Typewriters are fun. Microsoft Word might work better for you than Google Docs. Find out what works for you and gets you into a writing headspace.

Repetition and word choice: To avoid sounding like a broken record, make sure you use a different first (and even last) word for each paragraph. I always notice when an essay writer only starts paragraphs with the word “the”. Another helpful way to vary your word choice at the beginning of paragraphs is to use different types of word, preferably words that aren’t articles (a, an, or the). Using a noun, verb, or transition word can keep things interesting and help your writing flow.

Write with an active voice: Writing with an active, positive, and resolute voice fortifies your writing. An active voice is when the subject is the focus rather than the object, whereas a passive voice is the opposite. Example: “Sally ate a grape” is active because Sally (subject) ate a grape (object). “A grape was eaten by Sally” is passive because the grape (object) was eaten by Sally (subject). Essentially, if the sentence includes (or could include) “by [Subject]”, it’s passive. Even if you wrote “A grape was eaten,” that’s still passive. An active voice includes the subject doing the action, whereas a passive voice includes the object having something done to it. It’s a wishy-washy way of writing, though it’s sometimes inevitable in formal writing because you can’t use subjective pronouns. As for a positive voice, it doesn’t mean your essay has to be happy or perky—it means your writing, when possible, should focus on the positive part (what did happen or was added) rather than the negative part (what didn’t happen or was taken away). Example: “Sally didn’t eat an apple” is negative, because it just says what Sally didn’t do. “Sally ate a grape” is positive because it said what she did do. Lastly, use a resolute voice. Be concise and to the point without muddling the message with unnecessary words. Example: “Sally just a grape” is tentative. “Sally ate a grape” is resolute. Word like “just”, “maybe”, “really”, “perhaps”, “necessarily” are not resolute and can weaken your argument. Definitely take this advice for your thesis. 

Communicate clearly: Using long or complicated words can improve your writing—but if they’re overused or used unnecessarily, it can actually weaken your argument because no one understands what you’re trying to say under all that academic jargon. If you can’t explain your argument in an understandable way, you probably don’t have a good grasp of your argument. This isn’t to discredit people who have a hard time articulating while writing or people who need to use complicated words—but the whole point of a paper is to communicate a message in an effective way. If you’re too caught up in using big words, it’s very easy to lose the actual focus of the paper.

Fortify your opening/closing statements: If the person grading your paper has a lot of other papers to go through, they’re not gonna read every word you write. Focus on strengthening your first and last sentences of each paragraph to perhaps improve your mark with the graders who skim.

Proofread: PLEASE read through and edit your work. You don’t have to completely rewrite your paper (who has the time???), but definitely proofread it when you’re done. If possible (I know it isn’t always, but it really helps), give yourself as much time as possible, then do another read through. Even waiting an hour or two and then going through it again can help you catch some last-minute mistakes. When you’ve been staring at the same paper for three hours, you kinda just ignore the mistakes because they’re burned into your brain. Going back can help you catch them and fix them before handing it in. Double check the assignment requirements, including formatting, sources, grammar, etc.

Kudos to you if you made it to the end! This took me 4 hours? 5? I hope it helps some of you in school. Essays can be a really fun thing to write if you’re passionate about the topic, and they shouldn’t be nearly as hard as school makes them. Even if you didn’t read this whole thing, I hope my graphic can be helpful! The original essay structure from the other post made me mad because no wonder some of you guys struggle! When you don’t have the tools, it makes life difficult.

Here’s a pic of my cat and dog for making it this far!

End note: I’ve never done an image description so I apologize if it’s not perfect!

[nbrook29]

99 🖤🖤

Hello there! You’re officially my last dialogue prompt 🤩 I’m sorry this took so long, anon, I hope you’re gonna like it at least a little 🤓

I don’t take prompts for this challenge anymore. Just wanted to put that out there 😇 There are so many amazing ones on that list, but as of now I have 3 WIPs and one additional one in the works and I’d like to finish them before wtfock ends 😅

Anywho, here you go!

99. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

* * *

Robbe is going to kill Moyo. 

In fact, he's going to kill all three of his so-called friends because none of them protested when Moyo, tipsy and on his way to drunk, announced that this party sucked and was in dire need of some spice. 

He wishes he had listened to his past self and stayed home just like he had originally planned. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, editing videos or maybe spent in bed rewatching Romeo and Juliet in peace with no broers around to mock his movie choice while stuffing his face with onion chips and pretending the movie does not make him emotional, no sir. The wetness in his eyes must be sweat, not tears.

Then, after the movie would have ended, his sulking levels high, it would be time for his favorite activity of recent - daydreaming about reality in which he actually had the fucking guts to make a proper move instead of turning red everytime a certain someone was in his close proximity; smiling at him with that perfect sweet lovely smile that turned his already gorgeous features so much more beautiful that Robbe could weep.

And doesn’t that sound like a magnificent evening?

It may sound kinda lame, Robbe is a man enough to admit that, but the prospect of spending the night watching his friends salivating over girls they can’t get being the alternative wouldn't be particularly alluring to anyone, he guesses. Especially since he never partakes in that salivating part himself, instead chugging one beer after another and playing his designated role of a wallflower. 

Story of his life.

The whole thing just plain sucks, because it’s not like his friends aren’t well aware of the fact that Robbe’s interests lie elsewhere and that he’s usually bored out of his mind at those parties. But when there’s at least a semi-attractive girl around them they don’t care about anything else but getting her number and Robbe’s not exactly their priority then. In fact, he could well enough not be there at all and it wouldn’t make much difference. It happens every time they drag him along to those parties and every time he just stands there, rolling his eyes on their embarrassing attempts of flirting. 

Not like he’s the master of flirting himself, but even he’s not capable of stooping as low as they usually do.

This time, he reluctantly agreed to come to this one, against his better judgement, after Jens bugged him about it for their entire biology class, trying to convince him it was going to be more of a small gathering rather than a party. And frankly speaking, he did that just to make him shut up so mrs Jansen stopped glaring at him. Like he was the one running his mouth.

Once Robbe said the magic words “I’ll be there” there was no way of getting out of it. Still, his plan was to come by for an hour or two to get the broers of his back, drink a few beers, talk to Jana maybe, and then quietly leave when everyone would be too drunk and too busy tonguing at each other's tonsils to notice he's gone. 

But to his surprise, the party turned out not to be the typical banger they usually attended. It wasn’t even that bad and he was kinda having fun since he wasn't forced to play the guys' sidekick-gay-friend this time around and instead was dragged by Zoe to the kitchen to drink shots with her, Jana and Luca right after he arrived.

However, parties are not really his scene in general so when it started getting really late he finished his last Buttery Nipple shot composed by Luca (don’t ask) and was just about to make an apologetic face at the girls and say his goodbyes. 

But then Noor and Brit arrived. 

With him.

And Robbe almost swallowed his tongue.

Nobody should have the right to look this good but there he was, laughing with Milan in the hall while taking his signature leather jacket off, running a hand through his smooth like silk hair (Robbe's convinced it's indeed very silky) to ruffle it a little like it ever needed any styling, and in general looking like he had just walked out of Robbe's dream straight into Milan's apartment. 

Sander Driesen.

The reason for Robbe’s cheeks being permanently stained pink as of late.

They met at one of those after school clubs led by Amber several weeks ago that Robbe came to only because he agreed (after pretty much being blackmailed into it) to play Aaron’s wingman in winning Amber’s heart. 

He was gone as soon as those green eyes met his and the boy in front of him, wearing a black Bowie t-shirt and a leather jacket, shook his hand while smiling a little unsurely but still friendly, never breaking their eye contact as he introduced himself in a honey-like voice that penetrated every cell of his body, knees buckling a little, heart stuttering, the whole shebang.

He’s still thanking god he managed to hold back the whimper that was about to get out when he was saying his own name back.

Needless to say, the meeting became much more bearable after that.

Even having to witness Aaron’s cringeworthy attempts of gaining Amber’s attention weren’t that bad anymore. Not when they made Sander chuckle under his breath and catch his eye over Amber’s shoulder, winking at Robbe with a mischief dancing in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his own laugh at bay. 

And then, Amber came up with some stupid “love excercise” or whatever the fuck she called it and made them all hold hands in a circle. She claimed it released stress and spread positivity or some other bullshit, but Robbe was convinced it was just a ploy she came up with to hold the school’s number one fuckboy Senne’s hand (who, if Robbe had to guess, also wasn’t there out of his own free will). 

Robbe wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, especially with people he had no business of touching in the first place so the whole thing was beyond painful. Thankfully, Jana came to his rescue, snatching his right hand as they exchanged smirks over Amber’s lofty speech about positive energy filling their bodies.

But then someone else gently took his other hand and when he went to inspect who it was, annoyance already starting to creep in, his mouth went dry, eyes going up, up, up the person’s leather-clad arm before stopping on Sander’s face, looking far too entertained.

The boy took an overly deep breath, eyes closed and face feigning seriousness, breathing out loudly.

“Ahh, I can already feel that rush of energy,” Sander leaned in to whisper to him, a teasing tilt to his voice making Robbe giggled at his antics. 

“I guess Amber was right then.”

“No no, I don’t think it’s Amber’s techniques, I just think it’s because of you.”

Robbe just gaped at this shameless flirting, receiving another wink when caught blushing deep pink. Sander seemed unfazed though, totally chill, like saying lame lines and winking at boys was in his everyday repertoire. It definitely wasn’t like that for Robbe, and definitely not from boys as cute as Sander.

He should have probably rolled his eyes at him, called him cocky and full of himself. And yet.

There was something about Sander’s demeanor that screamed it was all a facade, and that underneath there was a huge dork that came out right after that guard was let down. Robbe couldn’t even be annoyed with the smug winking because it was adorned with such a cute smile that it called for a fond eye roll rather than scoffing.

Before he could form at least a half cool response, Amber started shushing all of them with a bossy face, glaring at every person that dared to make a sound. So with a rush of sudden boldness, Robbe just squeezed Sander’s hand and looked at him from under his lashes, biting his lip in an attempt at being coy (and cringing at himself internally) despite his body thrumming with nerves standing this close to Sander, and for some unknown reason it brought the desired effect. 

Sander kept smiling at him surreptitiously throughout the entire meeting, making him laugh with his playful faces at some of Amber’s more ridiculous statements, and it felt like they had an entire conversation even though they didn’t exchange one word during that half an hour.

When they were finally free to go home it was after 21, Robbe realized with a whine. After they all collected their things and were ready to leave, Sander turned around in the doorway, searching for Robbe’s eyes while ignoring the rest of their friends crowding against the door, and when Robbe glanced furtively into his direction his expression turned almost bashful as he said bye, Robin.

And then again with the winking.

Good god this boy.

And how cute it was he couldn’t actually wink? It looked more like a reinforced blinking, but he still looked cute doing it.

Once Robbe came back home that evening, thoughts occupied with bleached hair and the smell of leather jacket, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Sander’s social media. In just one sitting he gathered a handful of information, finding out Sander was a year older and recently transferred to his school (which would explain how he had missed him in the corridors). He also had a photo with Amber down at the bottom of his profile and from the caption it seemed like they were cousins. 

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the ‘follow’ button, but he didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he just closed the app, throwing his phone on his bed in exasperation feeling sorry for himself and his inexperience in talking to boys.

The universe decided to be graceful for him for once in his life though and put Sander on his path again only 3 days later.

Like every Saturday afternoon Robbe was in the skate park with the broers, taking piss of one another’s skills and trying out new tricks while basking in the October sun that felt more like it was full on spring rather than the beginning of fall. He was in the middle of showing off some of his best tricks to the sounds of his friends hollering when he caught sight of bleached hair in his peripheral, almost falling straight on his ass. But luck was on his side and he avoided making a spectacle out of himself. 

Once he was safely on the ground, skateboard under his foot, he glanced in the direction of white hair one more time to see Sander lowering his vintage camera and whistling, making an impressed face and promptly causing Robbe to downcast his eyes bashfully.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Robin.” 

Robbe sighed. “It’s Robbe.”

“I know, but isn’t that a cute nickname?”

Robbe ducked his head, smiling a little to himself, cursing the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this annoying?”

For a moment, Sander seemed to be taken aback, but then he must have noticed the teasing glint in Robbe’s eyes because he relaxed visibly, confidence back on his face.

Then, easily and offhandedly, he said, “No, just with very certain people.”

If Robbe had any doubts before about Sander taking immense pleasure out of teasing him, he didn’t anymore. He was flashed with another mischievous smile and then Sander nodded at the bowl.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Robbe scratched at the back of his neck self-conciously, ignoring his friends’ intrigued faces and praying they didn’t say anything stupid. “To be honest, these aren’t even that difficult, anybody could do them...”

“Pff, I tried this skateboarding thing once and let me tell you, I was an absolute disaster so don’t sell yourself short.” Sander nudged at his shoulder with a knowing look, the contact sending a shiver through Robbe’s entire body. 

“So what are you doing here if you suck at it?” He sent him a toothy grin when Sander gaped at his brazen words, faux-scandalized. 

He then lifted his camera swiftly and took a photo of Robbe’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m only around this deadly thing to take artsy pictures of cute boys.”

Looking very proud of himself, Sander laughed at his indignant spluttering, refusing to show Robbe the photo at first, giving in a few seconds later under his killer pout (Sander’s words). 

“So, is this where you spend your afternoons?” he asked casually once they sat down at a nearby bench, Sander scrolling through his camera roll and showing him the photos.

Robbe nodded, watching Aaron from afar attempting the backside ollie and failing miserably. It pulled out a snort from Sander.

“Well, you’re definitely better at it than your friends.”

Elbowing him in the side as a sign of loyalty to his friends, he replied. “Jens is actually better than me.”

Sander sent him a curious look. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?! Eww, no! I have way better taste than that.” It’s not like he’d admit he had crushed on his best friend a year ago. So, hopefully, he sounded convincing.

Sander lifted his hands in surrender, laughing at his outburst. “Okay, okay, message received, only the cutest boys for you,” he paused, biting at his lip to hold his smirk. “Makes sense,” he muttered under his breath, but Robbe heard him anyway.

Later that day, he got a instagram notification that informed him that earthlingoddity was following him as of now and damn if that didn’t make Robbe’s heart beat faster.

earthlingoddity sent you a link

S: Considering today’s unfortunate incident, I made you a bowie playlist, need to teach the youngsters like you the real music 😎😏

The first message from Sander made him scoff, but he rolled his eyes at himself anyway when he remembered his conversation with him at the skatepark, asking about the shirt and prompting Sander to quiz him about David Bowie’s songs.

Robbe hid his face in his hands at the mere memory.

Space Cowboy.

How embarrassing. 

Sander tried so hard not to burst out laughing at Robbe’s confusion when his answer was met with a blank stare, bless him.

R: So you're one of those people?

S: What people?

R: Self-righteous hipsters 😜

S: Now now Robin

No need for names 😩

R: It's Robbe

R o b b e

S: Okay Robin ;)

R: 🙄

Unbelievable

S: So 

What's up? 🙃

They kept up at this casual texting for 2 recent weeks, getting to know each other, and Sander confirming that he does, in fact, have a soft side. Robbe also realized he was a much bolder person when no face to face interaction was required when he had more time before responding to Sander. Then there were the occasional “hellos” at school when they crossed paths in the halls, but so far their friendship, if he could even call it that, hadn’t evolved further.

In fact, this party was the first time Robbe had seen him in a week.

Their eyes met for a few short seconds and Robbe waved at him, immediately after wanting to bang his head at the table because who the fuck waves these days? 

Sander didn’t seem to mind this dorky display at all, beaming at him from across the hallway and not paying much attention to Milan who was talking his ear off. A second later, he was out of Robbe’s sight, dragged by Milan and the girls to the living room, leaving him staring longingly after him. 

Before Robbe got his shit together and on shaky legs went there to maybe squeeze out a few words to him, Moyo was already on his way of arranging people into a circle and producing a bottle to spin. 

What a bad fucking timing.

This was so not Robbe’s idea of fun so he started to surreptitiously backing off to the hall to slide out the door but Jana, the traitor, grabbed his arm and sat him next to her, seeming very excited about the game.

It’s not like he was the only one reluctant to play though. Sander’s face looked rather bemused too.

“Come oooon, Sander,” Noor groaned at him, pulling at his sleeve relentlessly to make him plop his butt on her left side. “You promised to leave that sulky slash lovesick face at home and have fun. This is fun!”

“I think we have a different definition of fun, darling,” he retorted, his gaze sweeping through the half-drunk faces, stopping at Robbe’s for a millisecond. It was so quick he thought he imagined the apprehensive look on his face, but then Sander did sit down, letting out a long-suffering sigh and promptly avoided his gaze throughout the game. Which was clearly an intentional effort because they sat exactly opposite each other.

To say Robbe was confused would be an understatement.

And that’s how he finds himself here, sitting in a circle amongst his friends and several strangers who keep hollering and shoving tongues in each other’s throats. He had one close call when the bottle spinned by a redhead girl almost pointed at him, making him hold his breath but then stopping on Moyo sitting on his other side, who was way more eager to fill the deed.

When it’s finally Sander’s turn to spin the bottle, Robbe's heart starts beating double time and he twists his fingers nervously. He realizes with dread that there is no good outcome of this situation; if it lands on any of his friends or any of those few people he only vaguely recognizes, he’s going to have to watch Sander play tonsil tennis with them and his stomach turns unpleasantly with something akin to jealousy at the mere thought. 

But if it lands on him?

Oh god.

The bottle is spinning already, Robbe having missed the moment Sander put it in motion, too busy wrangling with his thoughts about what he should do. The fact Sander has been avoiding his eyes ever since they started this stupid game makes him even more nervous about the whole thing. 

Then the bottle stops, pointing at him so accurately that it leaves no room for question.

And Sander’s face positively falls.

Sitting near him Jens and Moyo are giving him subtle thumbs up and not so subtle shit-eating grins with Aaron next to them clearly confused at their behavior all the while Sander looks like he’s in pain.

Eyes glued to the floor, body rigid, looking like he’d want to be anywhere but here.

People are staring at them, waiting for something to happen and Robbe feels nauseous.

And so humiliated. 

How could he misinterpret Sander’s behavior so much? And it’s not even that, not really. Does the idea of kissing him disgusts him that much he can’t even give him one stupid kiss to avoid putting Robbe on the spot?

From the corner of his eye he can see Noor elbowing Sander in the side and there’s an entire conversation happening between them without one word being uttered. 

Then, several things happen at once. The boys let go of any subtlety and start whooping and hollering like they want to force Sander to make some kind of move, there’s a loud whack coming from the kitchen where one of the couples went to continue their PDA so Jana and Zoe get up to check the damage and then Adi, who has been rummaging through the liquor cabinet for the last ten minutes, yells that he found a ten year old whiskey, making the broers scrambling off the floor to get their hands on it.

The rest of the people are still here with them though. Still staring. And Sander still seems to be rooted to the spot.

And Robbe has had enough. 

Ignoring Noor’s soft Robbe, he gets up and with a heavy heart almost runs to the door, putting his jacket on in a haste, frustration and shame cursing through his body as he runs down the stairs two step at a time, wanting to get outside as fast as he can.

The cold air washes over him once he reaches the entrance and he breaths in shakily, feeling his eyes welling up despite his hardest efforts not to cry.

It just hurts. It really hurts. And if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that there have been witnesses to his humiliation is a small part of the reason why he feels this way. It’s about the fact that it was Sander.

Sander. This boy who let him believe there may actually be someone interested in him. In that way. Sander, who flirted with him, complimented him, smiled at him, listened to him and sent him Bowie playlists.

Sander, who he felt more connected to recently than to any of his friends. 

He wipes at his eyes angrily, scoffing at the fact that this asshole was able to make him cry, when he hears rushed steps on the sidewalk behind him.

“Robbe!”

Walking faster, he tries to ignore the sound until there’s a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. He turns around ready to blow out in Sander’s face but the boy is faster.

“I’m so sorry for that,” he pants, voice tinted with desperation, apologies written across his face as his eyes flit all over Robbe’s like he’s trying to read his mind.

But Robbe only lets out a humorless laugh. “No worries, I understand, you were very clear. Point taken,” he sneers, starting to walk again.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sander pleads with him, taking his hand in his own to keep him from leaving. Robbe wants to pull it back, but the distressed look in Sander’s eyes makes him hesitate. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be a part of some stupid game. Not when I spent weeks trying to come up with a perfect scenario for our first kiss in my head.”

Robbe promptly loses his breath at his confession. 

“You wanted to kiss me before?” 

“Ever since I saw you,” Sander confirms in a small voice. His demeanor lacks the confidence Robbe got acquainted with, ripped of any trace of the usual conckiness. Instead, Sander appears almost shy, biting his lip nervously as if waiting for a blow and heart-breaking rejection.

There won’t be a rejection though. Not tonight. 

Without second-guessing himself, Robbe takes that one step that still separates them and seals their lips together, hands drifting to Sander’s rosy cheeks on their own, like there was a magnet pulling them in. Sander is stunned at first, his lips unresponsive, but it only takes about three seconds for his brain to catch up and then.

Then.

Then there’s Chernobyl in Robbe’s head.

Fuck.

The way this boy kisses.

Phew.

Robbe’s brain shuts off as Sander’s mouth moves over his with intention, sliding together in a rhythm that leaves him breathless. It’s almost impossible to keep all the noises that threaten to escape inside, one small whimper getting out without Robbe’s accord, but it’s okay because it gets swallowed by Sander’s unyielding lips right after it leaves Robbe’s, making Sander pull him even closer.

Eventually, they have to stop, getting dizzy from the lack of air. When their mouths do separate though it’s only for a centimeter and they keep panting in that small space between them, soon breaking out in quiet giggles.

“I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you too. Ever since that stupid meeting,” Robbe admits, feeling brave and like he’s floating on air, no confession scary enough right now. Sander looks very pleased with his words, and Robbe can feel the telltales of his regular confident smile coming back to his face under his lips when Sander pecks him softly.

Then, he draws back, regarding Robbe with eyes full of mischief.

“I only joined to meet you.”

That makes Robbe cock his brow in surprise and he searches his face for a lie or at least a joke, but he doesn’t find any. “You saw me before?”

There’s a pause and then Sander’s smile turns softer. “I saw you the first day of school.”

And, wow. He did not expect such a turn of events. 

“You were sitting at a lunch table with your friends, deep in thought, looking so beautiful you took my breath away. It felt like I saw an angel.”

Blood floods Robbe’s cheek and he drops his eyes under Sander’s intense gaze, because he’s not used to such praise, or praise whatsoever. And then there’s Sander, looking at him like he’s something precious, like he hung the moon and stars, touching him so gently and kissing him so passionately and Robbe feels like passing out.

Sander must have sensed he was getting overwhelmed because he chuckles quietly and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumb sweeping under his eye in a soothing motion as he leaves a few small kisses on his other cheek, melting Robbe in a pile of goo right there on the sidewalk, quiet night around them.

Once he pulls himself together, he can’t resist the tugging at the corners of his mouth and a full-blown smile blooms on his face that’s instantly matched by Sander’s own.

“You know, I don’t think I ever played spin the bottle before but I’d give it zero stars on booking.com,” he declares suddenly pulling a laugh out of Robbe. “I was so scared I’m gonna have to watch you kiss somebody else, phew!” He places a hand on his chest comically, turning on the dramatics. “My poor heart wouldn’t take it, Robin!”

And fuck, he’s so cute that Robbe can only laugh at this (his?) dork, fondly rolling eyes at his antics.

“Yeah, I didn’t want anybody to kiss you either. And it’s Robbe,” he adds with a long-suffering sigh, futilely, he’s sure, but it’s still worth it because Sander’s cheek in tongue expression lets him know the boy loves to rile him up and is not going to stop anytime soon.

Still, to wipe off the smug smile for the time being he pulls him back into a kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket and Sander doesn’t exactly protest such. The second kiss is slower, more thorough, but still mind blowing enough for Robbe to feel heat tugging at his stomach.

“Will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow? Or any other time you’re free? Please?” Sander whispers in the small space between them after they finally break apart, foreheads resting against each other and fireworks going on in Robbe’s brain. Despite them standing so close Robbe can see Sander’s face pretty clear, and he can see his hopeful but tentative expression as he waits for him to answer, eyes growing unsure with each second of silence.

Not wanting to keep him in suspense anymore, he gives his parted lips one more lingering kiss, too weak to resist them when they shine so prettily in the street light above them. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression - Ep 44 'Guitar Center' preparing to file for bankruptcy & Urgent announcement.

On screen text:

Notice

27th Dec 2020 (Sun) 23:30~ The Freedom of Expression LIVE #3 Live broadcast.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome. Well, I feel kinda attatched to the topic this week. Joe, please could you..?

J: Yes, its sad news, but.. America's largest musical instrument retail chain 'Guitar Center' is preparing to file for bankruptcy. According to the New York Times, its possible that the chain might go bankrupt due to business difficulties. The chain is the biggest musical instrument chain in America, and has around 300 stores nationwide. Taken over in 2007, the business struggled hard with the switch to online sales, but was pretty successful in two and a half years, and up until this February had been increasing sales for ten quarters in a row. However, because Guitar Center is dependent on in-store sales, the business took a huge hit from the coronavirus pandemic. Sales for the most recent financial year were declared to be $2.3 billion, but the chain has $1.3 billion in debt, and its credit rating was downgraded in April. According to the New York Times, the chain fell behind with interest payments of $45 million this month for the first time ever, and although they have been given 32 hours, there is a chance they will default on thier debts. According to specific sources, Guitar Center have been in contact with thier creditors, will file for bankruptcy within the month, and are considering a plan to withdraw at the start of 2021. 

K: It says within the year, right?

J: Oh, yes, sorry, within the year.

K: The first time I went to this store was about 23 or 24 years ago, when we went to America for recording. We were taken there..me and the other members, but it was so huge!

J: It is huge, yeh.

K: It was in LA, but I never relised that type of place existed.

J: Its Hollywood, right?

K: Yeh.

T: How big was it? Like how many guitars?

K: It was as big as a Japanese supermarket.

T: Ehh?

J: Its as big as a wearhouse, isn't it?

K: Well, yeh, it looks like that from outside too.

T: Was it like the instrument shops you see in Tokyo?

K: No, no, no. They normally don't have drum kits and stuff assembled in stores here, but they do there.

T: Ehh? Thats really big.

J: It is. So Kaoru, did you go there and test out the guitars?

K: I have done. But back then, I didn't really feel any preferences as for the instruments, I just got the feel of the place. I was just like, 'Wow, Im in Guitar Center!'. It was a great feeling seeing all the different instruments.

J: The Americans try out the instruments pretty enthusiastically, don't they?

K: They were really good! haha

J: Right?

K: The people playing...I gradually just stopped trying stuff out there.

J, T: Hahha.

K: But when we go on tours and the equipment breaks or something, we have been to Guitar Center to get replacements before. So if it disappears, we could be in a bit of trouble on tours.

J: Thats right.

T: Yeah.

K: Its a bit risky ordering stuff online to arrive at the venue in time.

T: Of course.

K: If you go to the store you can just get what you need and leave.

J: With 300 stores, it seems like there are quite a lot in big cities, so if anything happened on tour, you could just drop into one of the stores..

K: Yeh yeh yeh.

J: And they would have what you wanted.

T: America is amazing. It says here they worked hard with the move to online sales, but don't you need to test-play a guitar before buying? Is it ok to buy online?

K: Nah, but people buy everything online these days.

J: Yeah.

T: I kinda imagined you would go to the store, play the instrument, and then decide you want to buy it.

K: Well, yeh. But I didn't test out my first guitar before buying it.

J: Oh, is that so?

K: It was a specific model that was sold out, so I had to reserve it..

T: I see.

K: And pay for it in advance, then wait till it arrived.

J: Ehh? But you knew what type of guitar you were getting though, right?

K: Yeh, I knew what shape it would be and stuff, but its cause that was my first guitar.

T: By the way, how old were you when you bought your first guitar?

K: Around first year of high school.

T: Ahh, I see.

J: Ahh. Eh?! First year of high school when you bought your first guitar?

K: Yeh. I started playing a bit earlier than that using borrowed guitars.

T: So, you thought, 'I want one', and bought your first one, right?

J: I bought my first electric guitar when i was in Junior High school. Everyone starts a band at that age, don't they? And I thought, if Im gonna do it, then I should be on guitar, right? With drums you really need space at home to set them up, so I couldn't buy a set. I bought a kind of cheap guitar/amp set for beginners. But I couldn't play the F chord properly, it was pretty frustrating.

T: This will make me look clueless, but Kaoru, how many guitars have you actually bought?

K: I havn't really..

T: Oh, not many?

K: No, I havn't actually bought that many...Like 10? I usually have them made through contracts with ESP.

J: But by now you have signature models and stuff, right?

K: Yeah. I mean, I will buy a guitar myself if I want to play it at home or something.

J: Ahh. Well, its kinda sad seeing these musical instrument stores disappear.

K: I've always had the impression that musical instruments don't sell in large numbers anyway.

J: But..well, i've done some interviews in relation to this, and it seems like musical instruments have been selling quite well during covid. Especially in America, it seems like there was a lot of people in the countryside playing guitar at home. But as for sales, they would probably buy online, especially during covid when you couldn't go to the store in person, I think some of the stores would have been closed. So even if online sales have increased...like with Guitar Center, if you have that many stores..there will be the burden of maintenance costs, staff wages, rent, and somehow the debt will grow and grow. But if online buying continues to develop in this way, we might see an increasing trend of people who play guitar without having tested it first.

K: Hmm, yeh, they won't be trying them out first. ???*1

J, T: Yeah, thats right.

J: What are your thoughts on this, Kaoru? About the concept of a test-run disappearing?

K: I wonder whether young people will still buy guitars. I think the people buying them will be like wealthy people etc. But I don't think young people these days are that interested in buying a guitar and starting a band. If they do become interested in musical instruments, I think it will be more and more online sales.

J: I wonder how thats gonna go, with the guitar makers and musical instrument shops struggling..

K: But even if guitars sell, I wonder if there is anyone who will still buy amps?

J: Ahh, I see.

K: Young people these days don't really buy amps, do they? There are amp simulators now, so you can buy one of these machines and input the data digitally, and then just use a regular speaker.

J: And thats just enough, right?

K: Well, you can do it like that, yeh. And you can simulate lots of different types of amp, so you can get specific sounds. People probably aren't buying the real thing these days.

J: But the subtleness of the sound is different, isn't it?

K: Its totally different.

J: Right? Its completely different. So its...Well, for peope like us, we've heard the sound coming through amps at live houses, we've been hearing that kind of sound for years, but for young people, in one sense a different sound is...

K: (*Kaoru talking about amps/simulators. I don't know enough about amps to really get what he means here, sorry!*)

J: Ah, so if they start thinking there is only one choice, rather than listening to the old types and making a reasoned decision?

K: Yes. So even now, if you go to a Japanese musical instrument shop, there used to be amps all lined up, like Marshall or Fender etc. Now, there are no amps, but many types of simulator machines. You can just buy them and take them straight home. It seems like they sell well. So if you find one guitar that is easy to play, and you have one of these simulators, you can make all sorts of sounds.

J: Yeah.

T: I see.

J: Like usally, if the neck is different, the responding sound will differ, but you will be able to compensate for that with a simulator, so..

K: I don't think many people do that.

J: Oh, right.

K: But I don't know.

Kami: Um, can I ask something? Um, I've played guitar before. But I got blisters straight away, and my wrist started to hurt. Does that happen to you too, Kaoru?

T, J: Haha

T: Thats a grest question to ask a guitarist, Kami.

K: Well, during recording...or like when recording something all in one go, it does start to hurt, haha.

T: Haha

J: If you are playing non-stop? But hey, I wonder how this situation will look in 10 or 20 years?

K: There'll be no music stores like Tower Records etc by then.

J: Yeh, yeh.

T: Hmm, yeh.

J: Old guys will be sad. 

K: But even with cars and stuff, there is that kind of rental service now, isn't there?

T: Carsharing?

K: Yeah. So won't car showrooms eventually disappear?

J: I think so. And with clothes, there's a high possibility that stores will start to disappear.

K: Oh, now you mention clothes, do you remember that online thing we talked about before where they put the clothes that you like onto your photo?

J: Yeah, yeah.

K: I had thought about doing that, but the site has shut down!

J: Ah, its over?

K: Yeah, so I couldn't do it.

J: Oh, thats a shame.

T: It is.

J: So many businesses have been hit by covid, I think the view that we see before us will be a lot different by next year, or the year after. Getting aound this will have an effect on the way we live or express ourselves, I feel.

T: I lived on an island in Kagoshima when I was little. We had a Shamisen in our house, it had a kind of plastic stick to play it.

J: Can you play, Tasai?

T: No, not at all. I only ever just picked it up sometimes for fun.

J: You could show us a Kagoshima folk song to finish.

T: Haha, no no no. Why?

J: I don't know. To wrap it up?

T: No, it wouldn't wrap it up, haha. 

K: In that case, Joe, you should play guitar.

J: Lets perform together sometime!

K: No way!

T: Joe!

K: No thanks, haha.

J: I'd gain prestige by playing with Kaoru from Dir en grey. There would be no merit for you though, Kaoru.

T: I'd go numb, I wouldn't be able to play at all if I were you. haha. Playing next to a pro.

J: Well, what can I say? I have big dreams. No, but if we did play together, I'd practice, I'd give it my best.

T: Of course.

K: Well, yeh.

J: If, for example, we played together on this youtube channel next year, I'd be serious about practicing.

Kami: I'll do it too.

J: Kami too?!

K: Hahaha

J: Would you, Kami?

Kami: I would.

K: But your hands would start to hurt.

T: Right.

Kami: I'd practice.

J: You'll practice? In that case, we could have Tasai on Shamisen too, and all play together.

T: Shamisen is ok? Well, I guess its a stringed instrument like guitar.

J: Lets announce something.

*...silence...*

K: Hahahaha

J: No-ones getting on board with this?

K: hahaha

J: Oh, nevermind then! haha.

K: Well, if the opportunity arises, right?

J: Yes, if the opportunity arises.

K: Ok, we'll finish here for this week. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

On screen text:

Notice

27th Dec 2020 (Sun) 23:30~ The Freedom of Expression LIVE #3 Live broadcast.

*1,2 Couldn't catch.

* Feel free to inform if it looks like I've misinterpreted some of the amp/simulator talk.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Another day of side-effects where my head really hasn’t been in the game. But a little fun stuff to pass the time has managed to crop up. 

So sorry for the tease ending... I blame the headaches.

Chapter 27

  The Chef, Greg, had personally brought you extra leftovers during the five weeks you were living in the cell, training and learning about your abilities. He knew about your abnormal energy-consumption, and had become concerned when you never ordered more than a double portion of food, no matter how exhausted you were.   So, he’d come to give you the leftovers one evening, and you’d explained that it felt like you’d be stealing from others that might need it, if you ordered six or even eight portions.   After that, he’d begun saving all the leftovers every day, and bringing you that for the extra portions you otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.

  “I may have to make Greg my Best Man.”

  “He’d probably decline. He’s nice, but he does have standards.”

  “Ouch…”

  “He doesn’t know you, Cujo.”

  “Okay, seriously, what is up with that?”

  “It’s just an accurate description.”

  “I am not a fucking dog.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s just that, ordinarily, you’re a puppy. You just have that lovable puppy-face, with the eyes and the grin that can melt the coldest of hearts. And then, you bare your teeth and growl, and you look fucking terrifying.”

  “I do?”

  “Um – yes. Unequivocally – yes. It’s amazing.”

  “Wait… you like my Cujo-quality?”

  “I like that you have that side, when you need it. I like that it comes out almost exclusively to protect the things you love. And I have to admit that I like the fact that even the remotest possibility that William actually had tried something, elicited that kind of a response from you.”

  “I was a little shocked at how strongly I reacted to that. Just the thought… I would’ve killed him, if he had. Not because you… belong to me. But because you were weak and unable to stop anyone that might have tried. Thank god William’s even more of a puppy than I am.”

  “Will is more of a Greyhound.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, you know – sleek, effective, streamlined.”

  “Okay, let’s just drop the whole dog-topic already.”

  “And, just for the record – of course I belong to you. Ass-hat.”

  He practically beamed at you.

  “Ditto. Mama bear.”

  You’d been talking while walking back from lunch, and when you got back to your office, Anita was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, with her signature scowl in full effect.

  “Hi, mom. Wow, you’re actually in the office, it must be serious.”

  “Fifty noise-complaints in the last hour – is serious.”

  You both stopped smiling, and threw a nervous glance at one another, but she just huffed and turned to you.

  “Have you had yourself checked out by medical, yet?”

  “No… why would I…?”

  “Because human beings don’t possess the biological imperative to breed, to the point where their libidos take control of their bodies.”

  You had actually checked both your offices for cameras and microphones a good while back, and found nothing. And there weren’t any fucking flowers in your office!

  “How the hell do you know that? Seriously… How?”

  She just rolled her eyes.

  “Get your ass down to medical. Now.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whatever it is, I feel fine now, which means they probably wouldn’t be able to detect anything abnormal, so I’m gonna finish my work for the day, and then I’ll go to medical.”

  You walked over to your desk as you spoke, and as you sat down, you remembered something.

  “And by the way, where you in charge of selecting my substitute while I was gone?”

  “Yes. Petra wasn’t ideal.”

  “You don’t say. If I’m ever gone for an extended period of time again, no one sets foot in my fucking office. Got it?”

  “Did you just try and give me an order, loco?”

  “I’m not trying anything. I’m telling you. No one.”

  She threw you a kinda skewed smile and then turned around to leave. But as she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at you with pure steel in her eyes.

  “4pm. If you’re not at medical by then, I’ll drag you there by your ear.”

  “Try it. Please.”

  She left and you sighed and looked at Marcus, who had sat down on the couch again, one arm draped over the backrest while he’d watched you take on Máma.

  “Are you absolutely sure you feel fine? Because I’m all kinds of hot and bothered right now.”

  “50 noise-complaints, Marcus. That’s half the damned building.”

  “And like I said: fuck ‘em.”

  “Please go away so I can think.”

  “Only if you promise to call me the moment you feel any amount of craving. I’m serious.”

  “You think I want to feel like that again? Of course I’ll call, and you’d better pick up. I don’t care if HQ’s on fire.”

  “You have my word, famb.”

  “You know, your list of nicknames is getting a bit ridiculously long.”

  “Oh, I haven’t even started on the real one’s yet.”

  “Real ones?”

  “Prometida, esposa, amada, mi corazón…”

  “Okay, okay, have as many as you like, jeez.”

  “Which one’s your favourite?”

  “You already know.”

  He got up from the sofa and came over to kiss you before he left. His lips lingered long after the kiss ended.

  “Hermosa…”

  He was intoxicating. You put a hand up on his chest and pushed him away gently.

  “Get out of here, gorgeous. Mama’s got work to do.”

  “Oh, that’s mean. You know how I love it when you talk all husky like that.”

  “I’ll call you if I need you.”

  He walked away looking disappointed, but also kind of expectant, like he was looking forward to getting you back later. You smiled and shook your head after the door closed behind him.

  You did get a lot of work done after that, and even if you were still miles behind from catching up to where you’d been 7 weeks ago, it still felt good to have gotten back on track. Especially on what had been possibly the weirdest day of your life. Which was saying something.   Your libido stayed calm and behaved for the rest of the workday, but you did see Anita’s point in getting yourself checked over, and so you were planning on going to the med-bay.   But at 3:30 you were working on your computer, looking up rare metals for an upcoming build, and you sort of stumbled over a site for wedding-rings.   You were just gonna take a quick peak, scrolling through the various options, and getting progressively more worked up as you saw the price-tags.   You were just about to leave the page and go back to work, when an ad in the corner popped up.

  Wedding-dresses.

  Fuck.

  You clicked.

  “If you thought I was kidding about the ear, you were sorely mistaken.”

  You startled at the sound of her voice, and a puff of energy escaped you, sending papers flying everywhere.

  “Thanks a lot, Anita. Why don’t you give me a heart-attack while you’re at it?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not my fault you were so engrossed in that screen you didn’t notice me. What were you looking at, anyway?”

  Had half an hour already passed? You just clicked on that ad a second ago… And why was she looking at you like that?

  “Just research.”

  “Mhm. Let’s go.”

  “Alright, just let me get these papers off the floor.”

  As expected, since the event seemed to have passed, the medical exam didn’t reveal anything, and Anita seemed unnecessarily peeved about that.

  “What are you so upset about? What exactly did you think they’d find?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Never mind, my ass. You all but dragged me to this exam, and now you’re disappointed. So, spill. What’s the deal?”

  “I just hoped that maybe… you increased enthusiasm was…”

  “Was…?”

  “Alright, most women experience increased sensitivity when they’re pregnant. I just wanted to be sure.”

  You sort of half froze midway through pulling your pants back on, and your hands involuntarily went to your abdomen.

  “Oh… I never even considered…”

  “I’m sorry, niña. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, I’m not upset. God, I don’t even know what I am.”

  You finished dressing and sat down on a chair, letting your head fall into your hands.

  “Eight months ago, I was just a designer, going on a fucking vacation. Now, I don’t even know what the hell I am anymore, much less what to do. Every time I think I’m starting to get a handle on things, something else happens and I’m lost again.”

  She tapped your leg with her cane, ushering you to look at her.

  “What you are, is my son’s fiancé. My granddaughter’s adoptive mother. You’re smart, highly capable and stubborn, kind and caring, but abrasive when the situation requires it. You’re everything you need to be. And that’s all you ever really need to know about yourself.”

  You drew a deep breath.

  “Do you think he made the right choice? With me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Thank you.”

  You called Marcus to let him know how the exam had gone, and he was just about to pick up Missy, so since you had your own car you told him you’d race him home.   But you decided to stop by Amanda’s house on the way. You wanted to talk to both of them, but her place was closer.

  When you walked in at home, Missy was in the living room playing a video-game with Noodles, A Capella and Wild Card. It had been a while since she’d had any friends over, and you smiled when you saw how much fun she was having.

  “Hey, Alma! Wanna see me crush these guys for the second time?”

  “Any day of the week, angel, but I gotta talk to your dad right now.”

  “Okay, suit yourself!”

  You laughed and walked into the kitchen to find him opening pizza-boxes and distributing slices onto plates.

  “Hey, sweetheart, sorry, this wasn’t planned, they just spontaneously asked if they could come over as I was picking her up.”

  “Honey, why are you explaining yourself?”

  “I don’t know… it’s just, with the weird day you’ve had and how you seemed a little down after the exam, I thought that maybe you weren’t quite in the mood for a house full of teenagers.”

  “No matter how I feel, Missy’s entitled to enjoy herself with her friends. I would never wanna deprive her of that.”

  “No, I know. I just worry about you.”

  “Yeah, I do too, sometimes. But that’s usually when I remember I have you, and it all feels better.”

  He smiled and asked you to help him carry out the food to the living room, and once you’d done that, you sat down at the dinner table to eat yourselves.

  “So… I may have googled wedding-dresses today.”

  He beamed.

  “Really? Did you manage to narrow down any preferences? Don’t give me any specifics, by the way.”

  “I did, I think. Or, at least, I found a lot of stuff I didn’t like, so I guess that helps. I don’t know, I feel like I need to see them, touch them, to actually get a sense of what I like.”

  He beamed even more.

  “I really like the sound of this. I’m sure Amaire would come with you if you asked.”

  “Yeah, I kind of already asked them to, this weekend.”

  He was fucking radiating joy at that point. He got up and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.   Then he reached into his pocket and fished something out. His smile turned just a hint of insecure, as he held up the ring he’d chosen for you.   It was gold-plated steel, with a single row of small diamonds sunk into the centre of the band all the way around. A sturdy and solid piece that wouldn’t break or lose its shape.   While you admired it, he started trying to explain his choice.

  “I know you’re not much of a jewellery-girl, so I figured we’d skip the whole engagement ring plus wedding-band. You can wear it right away if you want and then just take it off before the ceremony, or you can wait and put it on then, either way is fine with me. That is, if you like it? If you don’t, we’ll take it back and you can pick something else. It just felt right as soon as I saw it. You’re not the frail silver band type of person, and I know you’d only get annoyed with a big rock getting in the way and getting caught in stuff. You work with your hands and so I figured something sturdy but elegant. I have a matching one just without the diamonds. Please say something before I pass out from oxygen-depravation…”

  “I love it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.”

  You both beamed.

  “Can I put it on you?”

  “You better.”

  He slipped it on your finger and it fit perfectly. And for the first time it really sunk in that you were gonna marry this man. The love of your life.   It felt like a really long time until the kids went home and Missy went to bed, with her headphones on.

  “I totally forgot, we need to go bed-shopping, honey.”

  “I don’t know, a mattress on the floor might be preferable until we know the extent of your ‘heat-situation’.”

  “Mm. Good point. Although, breaking in a new bed is always fun.”

  “Hermosa.”

  “What?”

  “Stop talking and get undressed. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​​ @farfromjustordinary​ @allmyspideys​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts​ @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[rebellionbeach]

HELLO apparently July 28th is the release date for Down to Earth therefore in honor of its 42nd birthday I wanna do a ranking of all the songs based on my personal preference of course. 

(I’m only doing songs from the original studio release sorry no Bad Girl or Weiss Heim but they’re both sexy ;))

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwCsMQWkN3g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7YOM4gx3RE (spark don’t mean a fire aka the alternate version don’t worry it’s beautiful)

8. No Time To Lose:  Starting off this list we’ve got the second song off this record and it isn’t bad in anyway.  In fact, it’s very upbeat and energetic, especially with Graham’s absolutely stunning vocals.  However, compared to the rest of the list I feel it falls just a bit short.  The lyrics themselves are actually pretty dark looking at them with examples such as, “It ain’t no lie, you’re hurting and you don’t know why.”  Don’t know what Roger or Ritchie were going through but damn, anyway, musically the song is also very strong.  The guitar riff is addicting but I feel it’s the combination of, again, Graham’s vocals and Cozy’s monstrous drumming that gives this song so much energy.  Not bad at all from a song that’s at the bottom of a list.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1P17ct4e5OE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_v0bDfZytwk (Russ Ballard version, it’s really good)

7. Since You’ve Been Gone: Listen, I know many may judge this choice but I didn’t put this song at the bottom because of one, the sentimental value it has, and two, it’s not a bad song at all.  Okay, it’s not the best as well but Russ Ballard made a beautiful song about heartbreak that is only made greater by this glorious lineup.  I’ve actually listened to Ballard’s originally version and while it isn’t bad, I feel that Graham really helped cement this song and really put Rainbow on the charts.  I especially enjoy the interlude section that drops into a sweet ballad type tone before dropping back into the chorus.  Graham’s versatile vocals are well-equipped to amplify this song to a new level and not only that but without this song I probably would have never started listening to Rainbow.  Although very commercialized and maybe too light to many, this song holds a special place in my heart and I do love it dearly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2XDORONuuY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmQBKq0d_-I (Cozy Powell mix, yes it’s exactly what you’d think it would sound like if the drummer was the producer)

6. All Night Long: The second real commercialized song on this album and honestly the last.  However, where it differs from the other is that this song still has big traces of that hard rock attitude that Rainbow had emerged into.  That simple yet beautiful riff that gets stuck in your head, Cozy’s powerful drumming, Graham’s powerhouse vocals, I mean what else do you really want from a song.  Just from that opening riff you feel that rush of just pure hard rock energy shiver through your body.  It really is just a fun hard rock song that, although may not be anything too complex, isn’t bad at all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeVFTeXs1o8

5. Danger Zone: Danger Zone always stood out to me as a very interesting and different song.  Don is absolutely phenomenal in this song, especially his keyboard solo which Ritchie follows up upon to make a beautiful instrumental section.  I’d be remiss to not mention Graham who hits at some of his highest parts here.  This song really showed off the prowess of his full vocal abilities, hitting high notes with all the strength you’d expect from a hard rock singer.  The actual lyrics of the song are quite beautiful as well I believe.  Parts such as, “Don’t understand when you’re looking for a dame but it’s only a heartbreak away.  And you’ll learn, faking has no return.”  Really suspecting some mental instability from either Roger or Ritchie at this point...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8FcrH1lDeY

4. Eyes of the World:  Many may be surprised why this song isn’t higher up the list but trust me, I have good reasons.  Eyes of the World is definitely a highlight piece in this album and really is a final goodbye to the Dio era of Rainbow.  The subject manner is very of that era and really feels like it could have been sung by Ronnie.  I think to many this song helped alleviate the fears that Rainbow had gone fully vapid with it’s material (though we’ll see how that sentiment drags on throughout the next few years)  Don Airey truly deserves the limelight here for that incredible keyboard intro that just sucks you into that dark world of evil.  He really makes this song something truly special.  Cozy Powell is phenomenal throughout all these tracks but especially in this track where he’s at his home environment and just listen to the interludes between the chorus and verse, just incredible.  Then to our man of the hour, Graham Bonnet, he just absolutely kills it here.  He puts so much passion and emotion into the vocals that I find it strange how anyone could possibly still doubt him as a suitable vocalist for the band.  Ritchie’s solo here as well is probably one of my favorites off of this album just really makes this song something truly special.  I often like to compare this piece to the Gates of Babylon or Tarot Woman to Down to Earth with an incredible keyboard intro and other-wordly themes of evil and darkness that make it a classic Rainbow tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU__fm6QFvk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzQZoOvzzNo (Ain’t A Lot of Love In the Heart of Me, it’s brilliant and honestly parts are somewhat better than the final version lol)

3. Love’s No Friend:  I remember reading an article that talked about this song being Rainbow’s Mistreated.  That description always had stayed with me and while I partially agree with the statement, I also think this song is very different from the former.  Yes, both deal with heartbreak and emanates a grandiose sense of grievance from that sentiment however it differs in how that sentiment is delivered.  Mistreated, as stated by Blackmore, is really just a guitar song.  The relies both on David’s great bluesy voice that can conceive that anguish in his voice like no other vocalist can (love ya Dave) and Blackmore’s just heart-wrenching solo at the end which is probably one of the most emotional guitar solos I’ve ever heard.  With Love’s No Friend I find that it’s more of a complete package having all elements of the band contribute to the piece.  Not that but the lyrics are much more refined in this song.  I often find Mistreated’s lyrics very stale and boring since they’re basically just “I’ve been mistreated, I’ve been abused,” and the only reason they get away with that is because of David’s incredible vocal performances.  Trust me, Graham’s an incredible performer as well but these lyrics have much more substance to them and I feel just stands taller as a complete song.  Speaking of Graham, this is probably his strongest performance in the album.  You know what part I’m talking about if you’ve listened to this song but THAT part is just wow, that solidified him as one of my favorite vocalists of all time.  The entire song is really just a masterpiece and really just stands as one of the best Rainbow tunes in my opinion.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1LvViMLKNo

2. Makin’ Love - Oh this song, how can I express my love for this song in ways that I haven’t already before.  Well if you didn’t know before, I put this as #5 on my top 5 Rainbow tunes and I still stick to it.  Let me just say, this is one of my favorite intros to any songs ever.  Don Airey is just magical in this entire album (and his entire career) but he especially shines here.  The simple yet beautiful little touches he adds throughout this song really makes it so much more profound.  That, once again, addicting Blackmore riff that just goes on throughout the song making the listener feel as if they’re going through a lonely yet sentimental walk down memory lane.  It kind of almost reminds me of one of my favorite Rick Springfield songs, Written In Rock, in that manner.  I guess I’m just a sucker for a pretty love ballad but man does Graham make it even better.  The man just had the perfect voice for these types of songs (please listen to Will You Be Home Tonight as an example) and he’s able to convey those vulnerable tones in his voice while maintaining that strong hard rock attitude like I’ve seen no other singer be able to.  I didn’t even mention the sudden shift during the pre-chorus that’s complimented with Cozy’s ferocious cymbal playing.  Overall, I’m just a sucker for a nice love song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRLHHftZEJA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eRLQyXzZ1Y (the live Alcatrazz version because Yngwie is a cocky little piece of work and gets his guitar unplugged for 1 minute of the song, Graham is a beast here)

1. Lost In Hollywood - The magnum opus, probably not only the greatest Rainbow song but one of the greatest songs ever written and produced.  I’ve already gone into detail about this song in my overall album review but just on first listening you can definitely tell that this song is something else.  The energy, the tempo, is almost seems rushing like they’re running out of time on the record to give everything they wanted to show to the listener.  The lyrics sort of remind me of Super Trouper (the Deep Purple one okay) if Super Trouper was an overdramatic and grandiose love ballad.  It’s obvious that the song is talking about the overbearing nature of becoming famous and the sacrifices one has to make to get to the mantle.  One of my favorite song lyrics of all time perfectly exemplify this through, “I’m gonna lose control, if I’ve been losing you to pay for rock and roll.”  They’re lost in Hollywood, not just the actual place but the lifestyle that befits every star.  I still think that Super Trouper as a song is a more profound piece on the effects of stardom as a whole but this song as well is beautifully written to talk about those themes in maybe not so personal manners.  The song really is just a beautiful showcase of the talents that were the Mark 4 lineup of Rainbow and stands in my eyes as one of the finest pieces of music ever created.

Yeah, I’ve probably over exaggerated enough.  Once again, I’m very biased here but I’m also speaking with my own tastes and experiences in mind.  Despite the constant lineup changes, Blackmore always seems to find the most top-notch musicians and I believe this lineup truly exemplified that.  It’s a shame that they couldn’t continue on but at least we got this album as a glorious reminder of what 5 musicians can do with enough talent and probably alcohol.

Also, the hallmark of all live performances: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5VPzJlUKVc

[ineffablygoodomensakazion]

Reverse Omens Chapter 3

Summary: Noah’s Ark part 2

~~~~~

By the time the angel comes back, he'd been unable to find the room she'd wanted already in the Ark. Not that shocking, since Noah and his family would have needed to use every room they had built. So he had to use a demonic miracle to make it.

It had already began to rain a while ago, and the water levels were starting to rise higher than they normally would as a result.

After he made the room, he decides to wait for the angel on the deck of the Ark. By the time she makes it back, the rain is beating down on everything, making it hard for him to see. Because of that, he had barely even noticed how she was holding a small child in her arms until she was practically right in front of him.

"Like I said. Going against orders. Did you find a room?" She asks, setting the child down, along with a bag that she had filled with something. The child was a small girl, not much older than a toddler, with a toy bunny clutched in her arms.

Azraephel can only nod out of shock, even though he knows that he shouldn’t have been surprised that thisis how she chooses to go against the orders Heaven had given her. She’sneverliked it when anything bad happens to children.

"Good! Think you can take her there? I'm gonna go see if I can find more before it's too late!" She says, flying off before he even has a chance to respond.

"Not like I have much of a choice." He mutters, before making what he hopes is a friendly look on his face and offering his hand to the girl.

Despite what he'd muttered, he is well aware that he would have helped her with this no matter what. Like her, he doesn’t like it when bad things happen to children either. However, there’s a part of him that wonders if he would have still helped her with this if their roles were reversed. If she was the one that had become a demon, and he was the one that had stayed an angel. He fears that he might not have, that he would have been too scared of how Gabriel and the other Archangels would react if they ever find out.

He leads the girl, bag in his hand, to the room before quickly making his way back to the deck, only to find that this time there was a young teen, probably no older than fourteen or fifteen, holding onto a bundle in his arms.

"He's my brother." The teen explains, once they're in the room. The bundle the teen is holding was a baby, wrapped up in a blanket.

"Alright. Feel free to lay him in the corner over there if you'd like." Azraephel says, pointing to a pile of cloth in the corner that definitely hadn’t been there before.

He goes back and forth between the deck and the room a couple more times, leading whatever kids the angel had managed to find in the rain to the safety of the room, before he sees the angel again. Her white and gold wings are starting to droop with exhaustion, and her long hair, which had previously been neat and pulled out of her face in braids, seem as if it’s starting to become a matted mess, and its normal almost fire red had been dulled from getting wet. The water level had long since gotten high enough for the Ark to start lifting off the ground, meaning that it’s now less and less likely she’ll find another living being with each time she goes out to search.

"I think you saved enough!" He says over the loud sounds of the wind and rain, carefully taking the child, a toddler this time, she found out of her arms.

"No! I have to keep trying to finding others! I can't just leave them all to drown like this!" She says back.

"You're not! They're not all going to drown! You made sure of that with the ones you've already saved!" He tells her, hoping to get through how stubborn she’s being right now. She just gives him an angry look before taking off again. Realizing that she probably won't stop unless she passes out from her exhaustion, he quickly takes the toddler to the room before going back to the deck and flies in the direction he saw her go.

'I knew it.' He thinks as he spotsher clutching onto the trunk of an uprooted tree floating on the surface, fighting to keep ahold of the tree.

He had barely seen her, since she’d put her wings away at some point. Probably not long after she’d landed in the water.

Seeing that she's still conscious, if barely, he lowers down close to her and says "Grab onto me!" While holding both arms out to her. She grabs on, and he pulls her out of the water, before carefully adjusting his grip on her so one arm is under her legs while the other is holding her torso close to his, seeing how she was fighting to stay conscious.

He tightens his hold on her before flying them back to the Ark, and carefully carries her into the same room he'd left the kids in.

"Is she alright?" The teen asks as he's using some of the cloth to dry off the younger kids.

"She will be. She just needs to rest." Azraephel explains, laying her down. Seeing how she started to shiver at some point, he adds "And warm up."

"Here." The boy says, handing him a couple of blankets from the cloth pile. "Either you can use both for her, or one for yourself."

He chooses to lay them both over her, feeling as if she needs them more than him. He knows that he should probably take her wet clothes off of her, so they'll have an easier time drying, but he chose not to, out of respect for her privacy and not wanting to risk the kids seeing her like that.

Feeling how it was cold in the room, the lamps doing little to warm it up, he uses a demonic miracle to warm the room up better, being careful that the heat doesn't have any negative effects on the angel. Unfortunately, he couldn’t heat the room up as much as he wishes he could without there being a risk of him accidentally causing something to go up in flames made out of Hellfire, or anything else that would cause harm to anyone on the Ark.

After a couple hours, Azraephel wakes up the angel as he sits next to her.

"We should get you changed out of your wet clothes now." He says, having already done so himself and made sure the kids she'd saved had done the same. Some of the stuff in the pile of cloth he’d created was clothing, but the majority of it was blankets.

"Help?" She asks sleepily.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"M too tired to do it m'self." She says, as she rubs a hand on her face.

"Alright." He says, pulling his wings out as a shield to block the kids from seeing if they happen to look their way. He carefully helps her get out of the wet clothes, not letting his eyes wander to the areas humans consider private to only the body's owner and their lover. He was neither, so he knows he has no right to look there, even if the human forms they take aren’t their actual appearances and there was likely nothing in the lower area. It just didn’t seem right to him to look in those areas.

"Do you think you could find some dry clothes for her?" He asks the teen, turning to face him as he hands the angel back one of the blankets. He was careful to not move in a way that would move his wings from blocking behind him.

"I already looked while she was still sleeping. I wasn't able to find anymore." He says.

Azraephel sighs and turns back to the angel saying "I'm sorry, my dear, but unfortunately it seems as if you will just have to deal with the blanket for now."

"That's alright. At least I have something to cover with." She says, as she was starting to nod back asleep.

Azraephel leans his back against the wall near her.

"You can rest your head on my lap if you'd like to. It would probably be more comfortable than the floor." He says.

"M'kay."she says, moving to rest her head on his lap without disturbing the blanket around herself.He uses one of his wings to help cover her as well.

“I don’t think I like the rainthat muchanymore.” he thinks he hears her say, as she falls asleep.

Remembering how she reacted to the first rain storm on Eden’s wall, it pains him to hear her say that, but he does realize that she’s fully justified in saying so. He’s not so sure he likes rain that much either. Not with how much damage this one rain storm caused to every living thing on Earth.

As the angel slept, Azraephel carefully worked at untangling the knots out of her hair, knowing how annoyed she tends to get when it’s tangled up.

~~~~~

@givethispromptatry

First | Previous | Next

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice pt. 4

Inquisitor!Cal Soulmate AU

A/N: Umm, I’m sorry!!! My life is very hectic and will probably stay that way for a long time :/ I still want to update my fics and talk to you guys when I can. Thank you for almost 200 followers already!! I hope this part will have been worth the wait, I rewrote it like three times!!! Please feel free to leave a comment or an ask in my box and I hope to update again soon!! 

P.S. I will either write a part 6 and continue Iris or write an epilogue, feel free to let me know what you guys prefer! It will take quite a while but it will come! As will updates to my other fics! <3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 1671

Songs I listened to: A Guide to Live By by Remo Drive, Delilah by Florence+the machine, Misfit Love by QOTSA

-

Cal Kestis

“How much longer is this going to take?”

“Just another moment, Master Kestis.” The medical droid replied as it finished taping up Cal’s broken ribs. 

Cal was in a hurry, you could hear it in his voice and see it on his stress-ridden face. He woke up on that table, he guessed it’d been about 12 hours since you’d left him in that field of grass. A lot could happen in 12 hours.

The second that droid finished, Cal was on his feet and briefing the squadron. They rarely saw him like this. For the most part, he was playfully arrogant, his missions were always successful and he didn’t need much help from the troopers. Today, he was stern and to the point, only a flicker of excitement could be seen by those looking for it. 

“As you all know, this is not our usual manhunt. The target is one of ours, they are armed and force sensitive. The symptoms of withdrawal will render them unstable which will only feed into the effects of their conditioning, I don’t need to explain how vital it is that they be put back under supervision. Unfortunately for all of you, I will not be- ”

“Sir, s-sorry to interrupt...” Panted a very worn out officer. The officer clutched a datapad tightly to his chest and blinked rapidly as he tried to collect himself in front of his superior. “...we’ve gotten word that the target is on a nearby moon in the mid-rim but they’re on the move, sir. Intel says they’re scouting out a ship.” 

“A ship? They can fly?” Cal grit his teeth, his eyebrows drawn together in clear frustration. 

You’d think that was something worth mentioning. Cal was relying on your helplessness to get this job done faster.

“I-ntel d-doesn’t suggest they were looking for a p-pilot.” The man winced as Cal towered over him.  

With a deep breath, Cal stepped away from the officer and turned to the troopers. They stood stock-still, afraid that the simplest movement would finally set him off. 

“I want them on this ship alive by the end of the rotation, don’t disappoint me.” 

-Reader

Your teeth ground together as you gave one last tug on the robe that lay beneath the unconscious man. Your first choice was to buy one but that just wasn’t an option. This patron was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The uniform of the inquisition was drawing too much attention in the outskirts of the city you’ve found yourself in. Your eyes stared back at you in the mirror while you gave yourself one last pep talk. 

Once you left the refresher of this cantina it would be a few miles to the heart of the city. You needed to find a shipyard, any shipyard. Living on Bracca taught you the inner workings of a variety of ships, it was just time to put the theory into practice.

Eyes seemed to follow you as you left the refresher but it felt like that ever since you’d gotten off of Trilla’s ship. She was gracious enough to drop you here after you held the point of your saber close enough to your throat. A symphony of pleas from ‘Let me help you’ to ‘You don’t know what you’re getting into’ fell from her lips. Every one of them made the itch to do something a bit more drastic to grow stronger. 

There was something about you that was different, you couldn’t quite grasp it but your thoughts seemed to get away from you. It felt primal like you were being controlled more by instincts than morals. As you walked down the rainy dirt path, the question of what changed had already left. Too focused on the task at hand, you decided it was a problem for another time. 

So focused, in fact, that you didn’t notice the surveillance droid that was following close behind you. 

- 

Your boots splashed into the puddles on the concrete. The populous streets were providing much-needed cover, the business filled the air with the sound of tapping shoes and mild chatter. The streets were lined with troopers, there wasn’t a corner left unguarded. It seemed excessive for a supposedly unsuspecting city.

Eyes remained fixed on the ground in front of you. As you reached the end of the street you caught a glimpse of a ship, then another and another. Jackpot. Within moments your feet had carried you just in front of the fence surrounding it. 

As your eyes flickered over the ships closest to the fence you caught onto how suspicious you must have looked. Immediately, you looked around and to your surprise the street was empty. Gone was the chatter that filled your ears, only the slight whistle of the wind moving through the skyscrapers.

Panic struck you, this isn’t right.

Your heartbeat quickened and you started away from the fence, a strong sense of urgency pulling you back. Somehow you knew something was waiting in that shipyard for you. Someone or many someones if Cal stuck to any kind of pattern.

You secured the hood over your head once more and tried to cross the street as casually as possible, not that it mattered if what you feared was true. The safety of a crowed street felt all too far away. As you neared a skyscraper on the corner of the street you froze in place. Was that...

Your head swung around, looking to confirm your suspicion. Troopers wore heavy armor that clacked together ever so slightly at the knee, it was a distinct sound if you knew what to listen for. But there wasn’t a soul in sight. 

The atmosphere was feeling oddly artificial without the others walking about. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, your ears were buzzing all too loudly. It felt like the world was crashing into your chest without a single warning. Your hand reached for the saber on your belt and your feet took hesitant steps away from the corner of the building. 

Eyes fixed on the reflective glass that met the concrete floors, trying desperately to see beyond it. You were so certain that any moment a stormtrooper would emerge and blast you. 

In your moment of concentration you failed to notice the wall behind you. Your back hit the sturdy concrete sending a shock through your system. 

“Well, that was easy.” The deep, modulated voice spoke.

You frantically pushed away from the voice and tried to turn to face him. Cal moved too quickly for you, he threw you up and over his shoulder before you could even get a word out. 

“How did you even find me!” You grunted and fought against him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me, not that you can see much from up here.” He chuckled sarcastically.

You stopped your useless struggle and played along for a moment, there had to be something..

“You know, if anyone should be mad, it’s me. You broke my ribs, and let that irritatingly little padawan go. I will say, I am proud of how..” 

You were paying almost no attention to his rambling. Instead, you were fumbling with the only other weapon on your person. A switchblade securely strapped to your waist, a little too secure. Your heart jumped with excitement when you felt the button snap open. 

You quickly sank the small blade into his calf. Cal groaned and his grip faltered enough for you to push off of him and to drop to the floor. Without wasting a second, you took off running down the road. A quick glance over your shoulder showed Cal knelt on the ground speaking into his comlink. His wrist held just below his chin while the other hand crudely ripped the knife from his skin. 

He won’t be down for long. 

You were surprised to see he stopped at all.

You couldn’t stop for a second, you had to keep going, but where? The shipyard was behind him and the shipyard was your way out. You didn’t have much time to think as you heard footsteps picking up behind you. Just as you reached an intersection at the end of the street, troopers pulled out in front of you. They formed a blockade around you on their speeders and fixed their blasters on you. At least thirteen laser scopes pointed directly at your heart. 

You whipped hoping to go back down the street only to find an Inquisitor standing in your way. 

“Their weapons are set to stun but it’ll still hurt. Of course, they won’t have to shoot you if you come quietly.” His tone was completely different. In place of the somewhat welcoming voice he had moments ago, he presented as the negotiator, calm and emotionless.

You stayed silent, your eyes looked passed him to the shipyard that was barely in sight. 

“Really? That’s how this is gonna be?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly annoyed. “Watch the face, everyone, I quite like it the way it is.” 

The next few seconds seemed to move by painstakingly slow. Cal gave the signal for the men to open fire and stepped back with his hands crossed behind his back. Without conscious thought, your hands quickly found the crimson lightsaber at your waist. You wished you’d had more practice with this thing. The troopers fire relentlessly and you weren’t able to keep up.

A stun got past your defenses then another, and another. Your ears rang loudly and the world spun around you as your back hit the floor. The firing ceased and the world around you grew quiet. Black leather boots took quick strides over to you and you felt a gloved hand cup the side of your face. Gently, you were made to look at Cal who had at some point removed the helmet. His eyes examined your face, turning it from side to side with a smirk. Even in your dazed state you couldn’t help but think he still had the face of an angel. 

“Mm, not a scratch. Great work, everyone.” 

Some angel.