#Dusty’s uni adventures

[squishmallow36]

Fitz Vacker and the Secret Museum: I am Howard Carter

^note: title follows naming conventions of the original xavier riddle and the secret museum episodes

Summary: Biana and Fitz's family owns a museum and also a secret museum that can go back in time. Dex is friend who gets brought along for reasons. In this oneshot, they go back in time to visit Howard Carter because Fitz can't solve a crossword puzzle.

Word count: 3587 (the exact same number as my Alan Turing one. Are you proud of me? You should be)

Tw: nausea, dizziness

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @the-blender-of-the-genders (did Bob deactivate? Someone confirm for me please) @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @immersion-blender @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Ready for adventure? 🎵Who's that kid who can travel through time? Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Which great heroes will we find? Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Every single boy and girl Has what it takes to... Change the world! Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum! Dex! And Biana! And the Secret Museum! Dr. Zoom and the Secret Museum! Fitzroy Vacker and the Secret Museum. Shhh.🎵

    Fitz steps out into the blank white space created by the Secret Museum. Dex isn’t totally sure how it can conjure things out of nowhere, but if it can manage time travel, it can do whatever it pleases for all xe cares.

    Xe doesn’t even understand how the Secret Museum came to be. Or how the time travel works. 

    Xe gives him a thumbs up that xe turned the camera on and he says in his gorgeous, crisp accent, “Hi there, and welcome to the show!”

    Around a year ago, they started filming their adventures through history and posting them on YouTube because they were bored. Everyone watching--mostly kids, at least, according to YouTube--is led to believe that they’re making extremely historically accurate videos, not actual time travel. 

    Besides, it’s free advertisement for Fitz and Biana’s parents’ non-secret Museum, and it’s not like there’s a rule that says the Secret Museum has to be, you know, secret. Other than the name but that could’ve been created arbitrarily somewhere in the Vacker line

    “Today we’re going to meet an ah-mazing person: Howard Carter,” Fitz continues, running a hand through his newly dyed dusty rose hair. 

    Dex sighs inwardly. Oh, he looks so good in pink. 

    Another thing xe doesn’t know is if Fitz’s voice catches on the first syllable of ‘amazing’ on purpose or that’s one of his adorable unconscious habits. 

    Xe steps out in front of the camera to stand next to him. “Howard Carter was an Egyptologist.”

    Biana pokes out from stars know where. “That means he studied Ancient Egypt, which existed for more than three thousand years and was founded more than five thousand years ago!” 

    A wave of dizziness hits xem and xe, subconsciously, reaches for Fitz’s hand to steady xemself. Time scales like that have always made xor head spin, even if xe has been doing this for a decade. 

    Five year olds probably shouldn’t be trusted with time travel, but that’s what you get when you meet someone in kindergarten and then proceed to never leave them alone for more than five minutes. Which is hyperbole, of course. If that was literal, Dex would’ve run away long, long ago. 

    Fitz’s hand squeezes xor own. “He discovered the tomb of King Tutankhamun, and in it, tons of artifacts.” 

    Dex looks at Fitz to avoid being aware the camera exists. “He spent nearly a decade excavating and cataloging his finds.”

    “And he may have released a curse on himself and his fellow archaeologists for disturbing King Tut’s tomb,” Biana adds, smiling evilly. 

    Fitz is the only one of the three that cares enough to attempt to pronounce the fancy words. That is, words with more than, like, five letters. And he’s good at it, so everything works out. Biana doesn’t care enough to try and Dex’s face never wants to cooperate. 

    Dex narrowly avoids burying xor face into Fitz’s shoulder. “Curse? What do you mean curse?”

    “Oh boy. Maybe we should start the show.” He presses the large red button that only serves to offer a nice place to cut the footage while editing. It makes Dex’s life marginally easier, which makes up for itself a thousand times over. 

    The next day, ae finds Fitz sitting in one of the benches that are more comfortable than they look across from Verdi. 

    “Hey, Fitz. Fancy seeing you here,” ae says, sitting next to him. 

    “Oh, hi, Biana,” he replies, not even looking up. 

    Dex wanders past a few minutes later. “Ooh a crossword puzzle!” Xe sits on Fitz’s other side despite the lack of space. “Five across is Charlie Chaplin.”

    Fitz’s eyes flicker to Dex’s. “Wait, really?”

    He scribbles the answer down as Dex nods. 

    “Yeah, don’t you remember meaning him?”

    Biana supplements, “We had to cheer up Laedy Sassyfur. Ce got grape jellied. It was a very sad day.”

    “Oh, right…” Fitz studies his puzzle. “Any guess what three down is? It’s my last one.”

   “Most famous dinosaur.” Biana reads. “Why don’t you ask Verdi? Ve’s a T. rex. Ve might know the T. rex George Washington or something.” 

    Fitz exhales slowly. “Bi, fossils can’t talk. Even if ve did know the T. rex equivalent of George Washington, it’s not like ve could tell us.” 

    “Well, with that attitude, I guess you’ll just have to leave it blank. Unless…?”

    Dex already knows where aer thought process took aer. Xe mumbles, “Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…”

    “To the Secret Museum!”

    Biana starts running, Fitz trailing a few paces behind aer. 

    “You said it,” Dex sighs. “Wait up!” Xe chases after them. 

    It looks like Fitz’s knee is having a not-horrible day. We’ve at least got that going for us. 

    Biana has decided that today they get to enter through the Egypt exhibit, where they have to line up with hieroglyphs they’ve been taller than for several years, but at least the Secret Museum still recognizes the attempt as valid so it doesn’t really matter. Unlike the dragon throne that fits at max two of them, and that doesn’t work. 

    “I wonder who the Secret Museum will send us to meet,” Fitz says, tracing the familiar figures. It’s a replica so there’s no reason to worry about his human oils destroying precious artifacts. 

    “And where we’ll go!” Biana smiles. 

    “And when,” Dex finishes, slightly green at the mere thought of the dizziness that comes with time travel. 

    They run through the wings of the scarab beetle that open up to reveal the Secret Museum in all its glory. It takes a slide down a fireman pole to actually reach it though. 

    As ae begins sliding down, ae calls out, “Look out below!” Nearing the ground, ae greets Keefe, a spherical red robot that assists them on their travels. 

    Fitz is next, sliding down the pole and waiting a reasonable distance away for Dex to follow him after running a mental pros and cons list for the eighty-four thousandth time. 

    Keefe beeps at xem like an affectionately exasperated parent as xe hits the ground ungracefully. Fitz helps xem up and they head together toward the central dais, Fitz beginning to hum excitedly. 

    Biana is already waiting for them up there. “We’re getting something!”

    Up at the podium, Dex begins studying the artifact suspended in the bluish haze. “What is it?”

    “Well, it looks like two weird-looking ovals. And they’ve got a line under them?” Biana describes, unhelpfully. 

    “Whatever they are, they belonged to him,” Fitz points at the curved screen displaying a guy with a mustache and a hat, “Howard Carter. That’s who we’re going to meet!”

    “In England, in 1892,” Biana reads from aer side of the screen. 

    “That’s over a hundred years ago!” Dex might be ahead in math but this and making sure xe gets enough cheese sticks is the only time xe uses it outside of class. 

    That’s not that long ago…I won’t get too dizzy. It’ll be fine. 

    “I just hope he knows a lot about dinosaurs,” Fitz says, unfolding the crossword he jammed into his pocket to glance at it one last time for a reason Dex couldn’t describe. 

    “Only one way to find out…Ready for adventure?” Biana asks, holding out aer hand for a hand stack. 

    “Ready!” Fitz replies immediately, laying his hand on top of aers. 

    “...solid maybe.” Dex leans into Fitz for a moment, trying to hold onto the feeling of not spinning midair. Xe joins the hand stack. “Okay, now I’m ready.” 

    Keefe makes robot noises as they begin levitating. 

    Biana announces, “Here we go!” with that saccharine sweetness only achievable by a potent blend of caffeine and bi lesbianism. 

    Fitz ruffles Dex’s hair as he says, “It’s happening!”

    “Hang on Laedy Sassyfur!” Biana calls, balancing cer on aer head for safekeeping. Don’t ask. 

    Scenes from all throughout history whirl around them, as does Dex’s stomach. Xe latches onto Fitz’s arm desperately in a last ditch effort as the time currents do their best to make xem somersault. 

    With a zap, a gorgeous Victorian estate materializes around them, filled wall to wall with artifacts. The simple white cards describing each object are short, most barely filling a sentence. 

     “So this is England in 1892,” says Fitz, already distracted by a pretty table. You can’t really blame him. It’s an octagon.

    “Hey, I wonder if that’s Howard Carter,” Biana says, referring to a boy across the room that looks vaguely like the picture in the Secret Museum. 

    Keefe beeps a few times, confirming Biana’s theory. Fitz nods, “Yep. Thanks, Keefe.”

    Biana doesn’t wait to ditch Dex and Fitz in their native nerd habitat. “Hi there,” ae says to Howard, almost as focused in painting a painting of an old pot as Fitz is the crown molding. 

    “Hello,” he replies absentmindedly. 

    Ae points to each of them as ae introduces them. “I’m Biana, that’s Fitz, and that’s Dex. It’s nice to meet you.” 

    “I’m Howard, lovely to meet you.” 

    “That’s a nice painting you’ve got there. Wait…does that bowl have feet? Is it supposed to have feet?” Dex asks. 

    “Well, not much is known about the bowl itself, but it’s been dated to circa 3700-3450 BCE, and the hieroglyph in front means ‘to bring.’” Howard answers. 

    Biana gets distracted by another interesting pot, asking, “What’s this pot? It has a face.” 

    Has a face it certainly does. And it’s not the most beautiful face that could’ve been carved into a pot. But maybe that’s the erosion. It’s probably a kjipillion years old. It’s allowed to be a little dented. 

    “It looks like one of your art projects, Bi.” Fitz smiles. 

    Biana laughs. “Yeah, it does. Maybe someday I’ll be featured in an art museum.” 

    “I’m not quite sure what that pot is,” Howard ays. “Check the plaque under it. I find that looking around for a bit and looking from a new perspective can sometimes find you the answers you’re searching for.” 

    “Good idea,” Biana nods, reading from the plaque, “Bes was a common deity depicted on pottery throughout Egyptian history. He was portrayed as short and ugly, with his face and tail resembling a lion. Because children were not judgmental of his appearance, he became the protector god of children. Huh. Interesting.” 

    Fitz leans against the door frame, trying to look around without actually wandering around. “Does this place have a dinosaur exhibit?” 

    “No, sorry. You’re going to have to go south if you want dinosaurs. Around here, history’s a bit more recent. Got some nice Bronze Age artifacts, though.”

    “I don’t see how this is supposed to help me solve my crossword puzzle.” 

    Keefe beeps, queuing up their next location because nothing can be simple and let Fitz figure out the answer before going to a dozen places. We couldn’t have Googled the answer? 

    Dex sighs. “Oh, great. More time travel. Just what I needed today.”

    The time travel magic zaps them to the middle of the desert. Which isn’t actually that far from civilization, but has all the sand that comes with it. 

    “Where are we?” Biana asks, spinning around like ae’s playing geoguessr. 

    “When are we?” Dex asks. Xe would join aer if xe wasn’t so dizzy already from the time travel. It’s probably in the realm of threeish decades later if the nausea is any indication. 

    Keefe beeps. 

    “Keefe says we’re in Luxor, Egypt, in 1922,” Fitz answers. 

    Biana stops spinning suddenly. “Hey, look, it’s Howard!” Ae waves to him. “Hi, Howard!” 

    Howard approaches them, brushing dust from his clothes. It doesn’t seem to make an impact. 

    Fitz smiles. “This is an ah-mazing operation you’ve got going here.” 

    “Thanks.” Howard takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair as he looks back. “I’m the site manager here at Wādī al-Mulūk (وادي ��لملوك).” 

    The way Fitz flinches is only explained by Biana elbowing him, whisper-hissing, “Fitz, we need the translator.” 

    Howard doesn’t give Fitz a chance to turn it on, instead explaining, “It’s the Valley of the Kings, to you and me. There are dozens of pharaohs’ tombs around here, although we haven’t found much over these past few seasons of work.” 

    Dex draws in the sand with xor foot as xe comments, “Well, that’s certainly disappointing.”

    At the same time Biana asks, “What’s a pharaoh?” 

    Someone clearly did not read aer Kane Chronicles. That’s something ae should know. 

    “So you know how there are kings, emperors, tsars, et cetera?” Howard asks, establishing his background information just in case ae has been living under a rock for a while. 

    Which is…entirely possible. 

    “And presidents!” Biana adds excitedly to Howard’s list. Ae’s one goal in life has been to be president since before ae could walk.

    “Well, that’s a bit different because presidents are elected to their office instead of power being passed down hereditarily, but that could also work as an analogy. A pharaoh is simply the Ancient Egyptian term for a monarch.”

    “Ooh, cool. When I’m president, I should change my official title to pharaoh.”

    Howard smiles amusedly. “There is a bit of messiness regarding when pharaohs actually began to be called pharaohs, as is with everything in Ancient Egypt. There’s loads of history and we only have small bits and pieces of it.”

    Fitz, ever helpful, asks, “Anything we can do to assist in filling in some of those gaps?” 

    Howard considers for a moment, likely debating whether he can trust them anywhere near the delicate ancient artifacts. “Well…we are running a bit low on water carriers at the moment. All the water bottles are here, it’s just a matter of running them back and forth from town.” 

    Biana smirks. “Come on, Fitz. Laedy Sassyfur and I bet we can carry more water than you!” 

    No one knows why ae has to make this into a competition, but for some reason ae does. He doesn’t even try to keep up with aer. Ae needs to get aer excess energy out somehow and trudging around in the dry heat is a good way to do that. 

    About two steps later, Fitz’s foot decides to not cooperate as he falls forward. This is why we don’t trust him outside. 

    “Fitz! Are you okay?” Dex holds out a hand to help him up. 

    “Yeah, I just tripped on that very annoying rock right there.”  

    Fitz steps away from the most evilest stone ever as Howard looks closer, studying it, brows drawn. 

    “Hang on, this rock doesn’t seem to have cleaved naturally.” He brushes away some dust with a brush, even if it doesn’t do much as more sand falls onto it. 

    Darth Vader’s anti-sand rant makes much more sense now. Doesn’t make it a good line of dialogue, but at least it is understandable. 

    Howard calls back to the people milling about just, you know, around. “Can I get an extra pair of hands over here?”

    Clearly Dex and Fitz aren’t qualified enough to be trusted with anything. 

    “You know, that kind of looks like a staircase,” Dex remarks. 

    “Indeed it does, Dex. And it might just lead to something.” 

    An unknown length of time that feels like it’s been years passed in the stifling heat, and everyone has sand in places they didn’t know they had. 

    Fitz stops for a breather, pushing his hair, on the opposite side of artfully messy, back with a hand. “Ugh, it’s been hours. How long does it take to dig out a single staircase?”

    “Laedy Sassyfur is so tired ce could fall over!” Biana adds, and Laedy Sassyfur seems to sigh. 

    “Me too, Lady Sassyfur. Me too,” Dex agrees. 

    Fitz looks at the few steps that have been unearthed at an excruciatingly slow pace, blinking heavily. 

    “Am I seeing things or are there two circley things in the sand? Kinda…like the things in the Secret Museum!”

    Howard holds up a notebook open to a page with a similar symbol on it. “Do they look like this?” 

    “Well, there’s nothing in the middle, but yeah,” Fitz answers. 

    Howard climbs back up to surface level, preparing a whole lecture for Biana, Fitz, and Dex. Because this is probably something they should’ve known.

    But considering Bi didn’t know what a pharaoh was, he can’t assume that they know anything. 

    “Those “circley things” are called cartouches. They’re the way Ancient Egyptians denoted a name in Hieratic script. Usually they’re filled in with hieroglyphs spelling the person’s name, but something must have worn this one away. So there’s a very good chance this is yet another pharaoh’s tomb, and hopefully we learn something interesting from it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must send a telegram to Lord Carnarvon at once. Thank you, Fitz. I wouldn’t have been able to see anything from where I was.”

    As he walks off into town, Fitz is hit by a realization. “So…looking from a new perspective helped him find the answers he was looking for!”

    Keefe makes some robot noises to deliver one final bit of trivia. There’s speculation that Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon were in a relationship of the cognate variety. Do with that information what you will.  

    “Yeah, I can definitely see that,” Biana replies to it. “Those were definitely gay little thoughts going on in that gay little head when he mentioned him.” 

    Fitz simply nods, keeping on a one track mind of that crossword puzzle. You can’t really blame him, though. 

    “Keefe? Let’s go home. I know how to finish my crossword puzzle!” 

    A zap takes them back to the present time in the museum lobby across from Verdi, Dex’s head left spinning. 

    Fitz picks up the crossword puzzle, thinking so hard it’s surprising steam isn’t coming out of his ears. “A new perspective…like upside down!” 

    “That seems incredibly unsafe,” Dex mumbles, wobbling to a nice, safe spot on a bench to live for a few weeks. 

    Fitz climbs up one of the lion statues, attempting and failing to twist around enough to see upside down. “It’s fine, Dex.”

    “You sound like Keefe!” 

     This spot apparently was not good enough as he gets up and runs to the stairs to get to the balcony. 

    “What are you doing now? Wait up!” Dex calls after him. 

    “You know, it would be easier to let him run around.” Biana says. Like ae’s superior to them. 

    “If you don’t make sure your own brother doesn’t fall off the second floor, I’ll have to.” 

    Biana huffs, most of which is exaggeration. “He’s your boyfriend. You get to take care of him.” 

    Before Dex can respond with a well-deserved eye roll, Fitz asks, “Hey, what does that plaque under Verdi say?”

    Biana is closer, so ae gets to read. “This full-size Tyrannosaurus rex model was made in the 1960s. At that time, only five T. rex skeletons had ever been found. All were incomplete, leaving many questions about this prehistoric animal unanswered. Since then, paleontologists have uncovered more than 25 additional T. rex skeletons, including some that are nearly complete.”

    “Tyrannosaurus rex fits!” As Fitz fills in the last page, holding it above his head, Dex convinces xemself that he’s doing to drop the pencil right onto xor head. “Now onto the next one! Anyone know anything about World War Two?” 

    Biana promptly leaves as Dex gets xor phone out to Google the answers secretly so xe looks smarter than xe is. 

    An hour and another crossword later, Fitz wanders into the white space of filming intros and outros, looking for Biana. “What’s a seven-letter word for a three dimensional triangle?”

    Biana rolls aer eyes. “Another crossword puzzle?” 

    “Yeah, why?” he asks innocently. There’s no innocence behind those gorgeous teal eyes. 

    “This is the third one today! And it’s not even noon yet!” 

    “And to think, I never would’ve finished the first one if it wasn’t for Howard Carter.” 

    Biana glares into Keefe’s robotic soul.

    Dex finally finds them, making sure the camera is on (it’s always on. Fitz and Biana don’t seem to know how to turn it off.) because this would probably make a good outro after some editing, and it doesn’t require writing an actual script. And not having to do things is a good thing. 

    “Thanks to him, we know so much about Ancient Egypt. Even if he did release a curse on us all,” xe says not trying to disguise the fact xe’s talking to a camera.

    Fitz smiles, ruffling a hand through Dex’s hair. “Curses aren’t real, darling.”

    “How do you know that?” xe replies, eyes narrowed. 

    “Because it’s an unfalsifiable hypothesis.” Before Dex tries to argue that’s exactly why curses are real, Fitz turns to the camera, escaping this conversation by saying, “Thanks for joining us on our ah-mazing adventure to meet Howard Carter, who used to be a kid, just like you and me!”

    Biana says aer pre-scripted line with zero enthusiasm. “So kids like you can change the world. I am Biana.” 

    “I am Dex.” 

    “I am Fitz, and I know that  looking around for a bit and looking from a new perspective can sometimes find you the answers you’re searching for, just like Howard Carter.” 

    Fitz smiles his movie-star smile, squeezing Dex’s hand. 

    As their eyes meet, it shifts, becoming more real, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

    But before Dex is forced to spend another century editing footage, Biana turns off the camera. 

    “Since when can you turn that off?” xe asks, exasperated. 

    Ae smirks, wandering off to who knows where. Probably off to go find Sophie. Or have gay thoughts over world leaders. Maybe both at the same time. 

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #fedex #detz #dex dizznee #kotlc dex #kotlc fitz #fitz vacker #xavier riddle and the secret museum

[robotslenderman]

… just sitting at the bench in the lab and I’m pretty sure someone left a real human skull on my desk.

#I’m pretty sure it’s real because it has tooth decay #holes for the ocular nerves #and grooves on the inside of the skull where blood vessels have grown #none of which I’ve ever seen on fake skulls #so hey I guess I’m hanging out with a skull now #Dusty’s uni adventures

[kristophersilitonga]

Story about James and Mags before the breakdown. Jimmy (aka Sunburnt Superman) is an underground fitter in the mines and absolute tough nut + even bigger nutter. He had a big accident where the machinery holding up the underground structure that he was fixing snapped, collapsed, and crushed one arm to the size of chicken feet. A miracle recovery and now he’s back in the mines. Then Mags, out-of-control South African babe who travelled to study, met Jimmy on a blind double date. Now she lives the Australian dream happily ever after. How good! Looking for camp I switched to 4WD-low then heard a loud clunk, like a sack of tatters dropped on the kitchen island bench. Great. When Jimmy said “you’ve fully f***ed your yoke”, I thought he was trying to make a joke. I knew nothing about the drivetrain of a car, let alone yoke, uni-joints, CV-joints, transfer case, driveshaft, etc. They all just sound…erotic. Anyway, the rear driveshaft completely flopped out and shattered the yoke. For non-mechanical enthusiasts, no rear driveshaft means no rear wheel spin, no bueno amigo. We were so lucky to have James with us, otherwise we probably wouldn’t make it out of Fraser Island with only front 2-wheel drive, as we needed towing twice. Luck played a big part here. Divine intervention? 🤷🏽‍♂️ Lesson here is…remember to grease your shaft, especially when at the beach. #jeep #jeepwrangler #jeepwranglertj #rangerover #rangeroverclassic #landrover #australianroadtrip #roadtripaustralia #roadtrip #australia #queensland #outback #outbackaustralia #4wding #4wdaustralia #ontheroad #travel #adventure #capeyork #capeyorkpeninsula #dusty #reddirt #camp #camping #campinglife #campingaustralia #campingtrip #dreams #daydreaming #getouthere (at Fraser Island) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRBeTOiLxN0/?utm_medium=tumblr

#jeep #jeepwrangler #jeepwranglertj #rangerover #rangeroverclassic #landrover #australianroadtrip #roadtripaustralia #roadtrip #australia #queensland #outback #outbackaustralia #4wding #4wdaustralia #ontheroad #travel #adventure #capeyork #capeyorkpeninsula #dusty #reddirt #camp #camping #campinglife #campingaustralia #campingtrip #dreams #daydreaming #getouthere

[cottonpadenthusiast]

The Story of a Lifetime

Harry smiled to himself as he strolled down the aisles of books, the feeling of content blooming in his chest. The smell of paperbacks, the morning sun pouring through the windows, the sense of time growing and slipping away all at once; this is why Harry loved this place. Sirius and Remus’ bookshop was filled with a sort of magic that Harry hadn’t found anywhere else.

As Harry walked, his eyes caught on a brightly coloured book and he found himself reaching out for it. He pulled it from the shelf and his heart stopped. Not due to the contents of the blurb or the title of the book, but because of the man standing on the other side of the shelves. The man with soft blond hair that fell into his eyes. The man with pale skin that glowed in the morning sunlight. The man who looked like he had just fallen from one of the stories on these shelves.

Harry thought he belonged in one of those ancient Greek books; he looked like a god.

Harry’s grip on the book slipped. It fell to the ground with a crash and landed hard on Harry’s toes.

“Fuck!” He hissed, wincing as he bent down to pick the book from the floor. He then proceeded to bang his head against a shelf on the way up, lose his balance and end up sprawled on the dusty wooden floor.

Harry could feel bruises blooming in at least seven places.

“Are you always this clumsy? Or is this just a one-time thing?”

Harry opened his eyes and saw the blond man from before looming over him, an amused yet concerned expression on his face. Harry didn’t think embarrassed covered what he was feeling in that moment.

His cheeks bloomed a deep red. “Y-yes,” he managed to stutter.

“To always being this clumsy?” The man offered his hand and Harry took it, noticing how soft it felt within his own.

“Yes. This is a regular occurrence.” Harry stood up and brushed himself down, trying not to notice how close he was to the taller man.

“You should wear a helmet. Don’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Harry’s head snapped up and when he saw the slow smirk on the other man’s face, he felt his cheeks warm. He probably looked like a tomato right now.

The other man offered a hand. “My name’s Draco. Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco. Harry was becoming more and more convinced that this guy was some sort of god. His name sounded like it anyway.

“Harry. I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He shook Draco’s hand and again revelled in the feeling of their palms touching, the softness of it. 

“Well Harry,” Draco started, turning away. Harry’s name sounded so much better coming out of his mouth. “I better get going. I hope to see you again. Oh, and don’t go running into any more shelves.”

“I only really do that when good-looking blond guys are around,” Harry said, almost regretting it until he saw the surprised grin on Draco’s face. 

As he watched Draco leave the shop, his blond hair burning bright in the sun, Harry knew that those soft hands and that gentle smile would be the only thing on his mind for a long time.

----------

“May I sit here?”

Harry glanced up and almost choked on the muffin in his mouth. The little cafe was filled with people reading, the smell of coffee and tea radiating across the room, and Draco Malfoy was standing above Harry, a coffee in hand and a gentle smile on his face.

It had only been a week and somehow he looked even more gorgeous.

“Oh, y-yes. Of course,” Harry stuttered, pulling his belongings closer to him so that Draco could set his stuff down. He noticed that they were multiple empty tables around them and his chest bloomed.

“I see you didn’t take my advice of wearing a helmet,” Draco teased, his grey eyes bright.

Harry tried not to stare at where Draco’s turtle neck stopped and his pale skin began.

“My hair already looks bad enough as it is. A helmet would just make it worse.”

Draco reached out and brushed a strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear, his touch careful and light. Harry stopped breathing.

“I like your hair,” he said softly, meeting Harry’s gaze. They were inches from each other and Harry could see the little silver flecks in Draco’s eyes, the small scar on his cheek.

Draco’s face was a story and Harry to trace the lines with his fingertips, wanted to learn the words and sentences that combined to make him.

Draco’s face was a story and Harry wanted to read all of it.

Their heads stayed close for a moment, before Draco swallowed and pulled away. Harry wished he hadn’t.

“What’s the book you’re reading?” Harry nodded to the book on the table.

“Oh, I don’t think you would like it. It’s a romance.”

“What’s wrong with romance?”

“Nothing,” Draco shrugged. “It’s just that most guys aren’t that into it.”

“Well, I love it. It’s much more interesting than some book about cars.”

The surprised grin on Draco’s face from before was back and Harry would do anything to see it again and again. 

“The book is Jane Eyre. It’s amazing so far. Aside from Mr Rochester. He’s just a dickhead.”

“Well, I suppose I should read it then,” Harry said.

Draco smiled a small smile and Harry saw the world unfold within it.

“I suppose you should.” 

----------

Harry’s mind was full of blond hair and grey eyes and gentle touches as he sat on the window-seat in the bookshop a few days later. Remus and Sirius had made a few comments about his more frequent visits recently but hadn’t asked outright. They both knew they wouldn’t get an answer.

Wuthering Heights sat on Harry’s lap and the evening sun was dimming with every minute. He had charged over to the shop as soon as he had finished his class at uni and had been waiting for Draco on the off chance that Draco might show up. They had spoken for hours that day in the cafe and Harry was left wanting to know more about the story of Draco Malfoy than ever before.

“Hello, Harry.”

The familiar voice had Harry grinning before he even looked up. 

“Hi, Draco.”

Draco smiled. “Would you like to join me on my adventure to find a book?”

Harry stood up, stuffing the book into his bag. “Of course. What book is it?”

“Wide Sargasso Sea. I’ve already looked around and I can’t see it anywhere.”

“It might be in the back. Remus told me they got a delivery today.” Harry took Draco’s hand in his and pulled him in the direction of the storeroom.

Bolts of electricity shot up from where Draco’s skin connected with his.

“Remus?” Draco asked. His voice was tighter than before.

“He’s my godfather's husband. They own this place.” Harry opened the door to the store and turned on the light. 

The room was dusty and illuminated only by a warm light in the centre of the room. Harry directed Draco through piles and piles of books, their hands never parting.

Draco stopped. “Here it is,” he said softly.

Harry turned. Draco’s free hand was atop the pile of books but he didn’t reach for one. Instead, he cupped Harry’s cheek and pulled him closer with their clasped hands.

Harry’s heart squeezed when he looked up to meet Draco’s gaze. He looked beautiful in this light, his eyes bright and the warm glow making his face soft. Time seemed to be a useless thing in this place because when their lips met Harry felt like he had both been waiting forever for this and no time at all.

The books had lied. There were no trumpets playing when they kissed, no metaphorical fireworks bursting around them, no angels singing from the heavens.

There was only this.

Their lips meeting again and again. Time slowly slipping away. Hearts thundering loudly in their chest.

There was only this.

Harry learning the whispers of Draco’s heart through his mouth. Words that couldn’t be said being read from lips. Hands tracing bodies like words in a book.

There was only this.

In a room full of stories, one began.

#drarry #drarry fic #harry x draco #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #bookshop au #wolfstar #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #my fic #my writing

[sweetcatmintea]

Counting Squares

Flash Fiction Friday (on Saturday <.<;;) I like the concept of this one, even if the story itself didn’t really turn out how I wanted. Maybe I’ll revisit it one day. 

I hope you enjoy your adventure in the maze! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Big thanks to @cawolters for organising FFF and to @stories-by-rie, for hosting!

Prompt: Labyrinth 

Words: 1049

----------

Three, two, one, my turn is over. I managed to find a crossroad of sorts, a decision for the next turn. All I can do now is wait on the stone path. There’s nothing to see beyond the tall hedges caging me in, angled branches tangling my hair when I stand too close. I stay quiet, ears peeled for footsteps, whispers, voices, any sound really, to tell me where the others are. I don’t know who there are, or how many there are, or why we’re here. Or where here is for that matter… I don’t know much of anything right now. What I do know are the rules. Instructions scrawled on a piece of paper left in my hand, concluded with a smiley face. For each stone that lights up on the bracelet clamped around my wrist I can move one square through this maze. Wait until they light up to move. Don’t move when it’s not your turn. It’s not a pleasant experience. Don’t break the rules.

My turn rolls around again. Crows call and dry leaves rustle in the wind. Still no sign of others. Damn. The stones illuminate, all six this time. Left or right? Left or right? It’s no good trying to see over the plants. The sky is barely a sliver of orange through the foliage. Once again, I resign my fate to luck fishing a game token out of my jeans. A gift from my friend a long time ago. Shiny side up, left it is. Another strong breeze has me huddling further into my too-large jacket despite its warmth. I hope I can find my way out soon. My phone lies heavy in my pocket. Or a signal.

Finding a door has never been so exciting. Just two squares ahead, the entrance to a beautiful old manor beginning to be reclaimed by nature. That’s got to be the centre of the maze, right? Or maybe it’s a red herring to get players more lost? Maybe it would be better to skirt around it rather than try to navigate the halls… A glance back at the never-ending autumn hedges turns my stomach. Lost in a building or lost in the plants? Neither were appealing. I might as well take a food break until I can move again. It might help me think.

Whoever dumped me here left my backpack. I guess it was lucky I forgot to eat at uni today. I don’t want to eat too much. Trying to navigate this stupid labyrinth while starving would be a nightmare. Although, waking up in a maze halfway through walking home was pretty much the nightmare scenario in itself.  

What was that? Shoot. I get up, throwing everything into my bag. No traces left. That was a scream. I’m sure of it.  A shaky breath. They’re closer than I thought. I palm the token. Please let their turn be over. My bracelet remains dull. Hurry up hurry up hurry up. Bouncing on my toes, it’s just me, the crows, and the feint sound of footsteps just beyond the bend. They stop. Shudders run up and down my spine uncontrollably. One more player gone.

My bracelet lights up. Four. Slowly, achingly slowly, I creep across the square. Feet ghosting the ground. Anything to avoid the leaf litter landmines. An eternity between me and the door. Every zipper jingle from my backpack, a clashing symbol. I make it. The handle clicks quietly as I slip out of the hedges. That is NOT laughter beyond the bend. They DIDN’T hear me. I’m okay. I’m okay. The entrance branches out. Hallways and doors. So many potential decisions. They don’t know how many squares I have. I have to be clever about this. My squares are almost up. I can’t make it out of the entranceway. Damn it. Think! Scanning the debris scattered about, I wrack my brain. I have to make a decision. There! A storage container. It’s tiny, maybe too small to be suspicious? I can only hope. I’m flexible. I’ll fit. There aren’t any better options.

It’s cramped. Light and dust filter through the thin gaps in the wood making it harder to breath the stuffy air. Tasting dirt is better than risking my nose whistling when I breathe. It tickles my throat. I don’t dare cough. The door clicks open. The boards press into my skin, joints creaking as awkwardly arranged bones grind against one another. Footsteps get closer. They don’t bother with silence, laughing and humming with each square they traverse. There’s a sticky noise with each step. I don’t want to think about it. I can see their shadow now, stretching over the dusty tiles.

“Here kitty kitty kitty, where aaare you~” A singsong voice as she draws closer. My guts drop. My cat-faced backpack smooshed into my face. Head spinning and eyes dilated, one thought stands alone in my mind. When did she see me? I can’t breathe. She hums, standing in my square. I can smell the blood on her shoes.

The box creaks as she sits on it, idly drumming her nails against the lid. Is she teasing me? Does she know? She sighs, settling down to wait. Her turn is up.

Seconds stretch on and on and on. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe. Something drips onto my skin. I screw my eyes shut. Don’t think about it. Don’t listen. Don’t listen as she calls. Don’t listen to her teasing lilt while she promises she only wants to play. Tears burn but I hold them back. This is how I’m going to die. The game token cuts into my hand. I want to go home. We wait.

It’s inevitable, my turn comes first. One square. Cover it! Did she see? I stay still, cramped and tiny. She doesn’t change. Her humming poisoning the silence around us. She’s waiting for her turn. Hands shaking, I shift slowly, slowly. Don’t rustle the back. Don’t make a noise. I swipe my fingertip over the stones, I forfeit my turn.

Several minutes pass. She stands, a single fluid movement. She calls out again, wandering further into the maze. I stay still, waiting for my turn to run. I need to get out of here.

“I’m coming to get you kitty!”

----------

@inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll, and @goblin-writer

#Flash Fiction Friday #fff27 #short story #writing #writblr #original story #At what point will I accept that I'm not great at writing suspense? (Probably neverXD) #Back to homework

[lostinfic]

5. New York, Fall

Summary: Travel writer/photojournalist AU, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff and adventures around the world.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature Word count: 1.6k

Prologue  |  Chap. 1  |  2  |  3  |  4  | Ao3  

Hannah was too fond of clothing and accessories to be a minimalist packer. She kept her wardrobe well organized, divided by climates and types of activities, but used creativity to select the right clothes. It was an art. One that began with a theme, a story she wanted her pictures to tell. (She’d once packed only retro-inspired clothes for a long weekend in Paris during which she visited movie-famous locations.) And since, on a cruise, hauling a heavy suitcase around wasn’t an issue, she may have gone a little overboard (pun intended) with the nautical theme: white and navy stripes, tiny anchors, big anchors, sailor collars, mermaids...

“I have nothing to wear,” she whined, dumping half her suitcase on the floor of her cabin.

The ship would dock in Manhattan soon, and she still hadn’t found the perfect outfit to go to Hardy’s photography exhibition. Something that looked irresistible yet like she hadn’t made an effort at all. Not like she worked in a theme park.

The whole thing was ridiculous anyway. Her contract with the cruise line gave her a choice among four destinations and ten dates— she could have gone to Alaska!— but she’d chosen a place she’d already visited on somewhat inconvenient dates in October, just on the off chance she might run into him. He didn’t even know she was going to be there. She couldn’t decide whether to tell him. Whether she wanted to see him again. She didn’t usually keep in touch with people she met abroad. The moments they shared were perfect as they were. Meeting again just wouldn’t be the same. Why ruin a perfectly good memory?

But Alec…

She’d said before she wanted a man who would challenge her, but parachuting or strange foods was what she had in mind, not ethical dilemmas.

At least she had a fantastic leather jacket.

The World Press Photo event took place in Brooklyn whereas the ship docked on the west side of Manhattan. It didn’t look that far on the map but, once again, she’d underestimated distances in America. Google Maps informed her it was an hour-long public transport journey to the building where the conference took place. They docked at 10am, and she had to be back on board by 4pm. What kind of cruise stays only six hours in New York but stays overnight in Nova Scotia?

She was familiar with the subway from previous visits, and seamlessly joined the crowd on the platform. She wore her headphones even if her music barely pierced the metal grinding of the old subway cars. She tapped her feet, at first to the beat of Lana Del Rey, but then out of nervousness. What would she even say to him? Oh, hi, funny meeting you here.

By the time she walked out of the subway station, her skin was clammy and smelled of rust and other people’s sweat. An autumnal breeze refreshed her and chased dead leaves around her feet.

She washed her hands and face, sprayed some perfume on her neck and shook her hair for volume. With a sigh, she blew a strand off her face.

Beside the door, a banner announced: “Alec Hardy, a retrospective”. A black and white portrait of him, with a hand tugging back his hair and an annoyed look on his face, told visitors he didn’t appreciate having the viewfinder turned on him. The lights and shadows in the picture revealed his physical flaws: the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, freckles on his cheeks and nose, even some greying hair at his temples and in his beard. She only ever used black and white to hide a too-red face or unflattering light. He didn’t hide anything, and the photo was stunning.

She read the short biography next to it. Forty-two years old, ten years older than her. She filed the information away. Everything else she knew from looking him up already.

In the high-ceilinged, white room, his photographs, in various sizes, lined the walls and hung from the ceiling to create corridors.

Hannah scanned the crowd of art students, photography enthusiasts and other conference attendees with lanyards around their necks. She didn’t see him, and couldn’t tell which of relief or disappointment swelled in her chest.

The exhibition began with Alec’s early work on the streets of Glasgow in the 90s: poverty, union strikes, and the punk scene. Domestic moments caught through dusty windows, spike-haired lovers in a park, and children playing among burning rubbish bins. She smiled at a self-portrait, his reflection in a broken mirror, an old Leica covered half his face, wire-frame glasses and smoke from a hand-rolled cigarette covered the other half.

Political protests and revolts followed. From Ireland to South Africa. He’d been right in the eye of it, among the armed men, the bleeding noses and mouths shouting for justice. In the rage and lust.

Hannah walked from one to the other, heart beating fast as if watching an action movie. How many times had he been threatened? Held at gunpoint? Kicked and punched? He really made a habit of putting himself in danger’s way. His recklessness scared her, in a good way.

His later work shifted away from the action towards the devastation left in their wake. Destroyed villages, grieving families, scarred men, empty-eyed women. More children featured in his photos. She recognized Pulau Kesuma: a pile of discarded monogrammed hotel towels among flowers, new fishing gear left to rust, an old fisherman with the sea etched on his skin. With every picture, Hannah’s heart grew heavier. By the last photo, tears threatened to ruin her mascara. And yet, something in the way he showcased sunlight gave her hope.

Hannah rounded a corner and gasped: there was a photo of her. Taken at night, darkness hid her face, but she recognized her leg kicking an arch of bioluminescent plankton. She raised her cell phone to take a picture of it and share it on social media, but changed her mind. She looked at it closer. She wasn’t used to seeing herself through someone else’s camera. An image over which she had no control. A moment of unstaged spontaneity. She wasn’t used to feeling humbled. She watched other people’s reaction to it. They didn’t know what it meant.

The picture of her was part of a special section dedicated to his more artistic work. Random snapshots he’d never dedicated an entire series to before now. Breathtaking landscapes, powerful oceans, a colorful Indian wedding, elephants in Thailand, coal-smeared Congolese children smiling bright, several photos of a baby girl. Through his lens, even the streets of London became poetic. And she thought that pain and misery did not diminish the beauty of the world, if anything, the fact that people endured and kept laughing and creating, was all the more wondrous because of it.

She went around the room a second time, always on the lookout for Hardy. She did a double-take at every brown-haired or bearded man, only to be disappointed. Before she knew it, she’d spent more time there than at the Louvre. She lingered in the building for as long as she could, visited the other exhibitions, but had to get back to the port soon. She decided to leave a message in the guest book, leaving it up to fate whether he would see it.

Outside the building, golden sunshine trickled between fiery leaves and alighted every raindrop falling across its beams. Umbrellas bloomed and children laughed, and Hannah was keenly aware that each person around her had their own story, their own unique perspective on life.

Like light shining through a prism, daily life was dissolved into millions of shades by the people experiencing it.

Hannah walked two subway stations farther, fascinated by the city thrumming with life around her.

To capture that variety, she used to write in-depth articles about encounters with one person. She’d gradually abandoned those in favor of shorter pieces for the attention-deficient social media users, and marketing disguised as personal anecdotes. Perhaps she should do that again.

She smiled at the young latina woman walking her dog, but only received a wary look in return.

This strange hyper-awareness followed her on board the cruise ship, but morphed into introspection once alone in her cabin. Seeing Hardy’s journey made her consider her own.

When asked why she started traveling, she always told the same story. She, Ben and Erin formed an inseparable trio of best friends in secondary school. They dreamed of backpacking through Europe. Once in uni, they kept postponing their plans for all sorts of reasons. Unfortunately, Erin died abruptly during their second year. Realizing how short and unpredictable life is, Hannah had packed her bags and left England.

It was a nice story, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She never said how her friend died, that she left even before the funeral, that she stayed too long in Amsterdam to numb her guilt, that there was a reason she didn’t keep in touch with the people she met while traveling.

The rocking waves failed to lull her to sleep. She nearly called Hardy twice, but her longing scared her. Her emotions felt too close to the surface, too easy to bruise.

She wrote all night and deleted the file in the morning.

They docked in Boston next. She filled a travel mug with black coffee and headed off the boat with the firm intention of being her former, professional self. She hadn’t even posted on Instagram yesterday. It really was for the best that she hadn’t encountered Hardy. They had shared a moment in Asia and that was the end of it. She had to focus on rebuilding her reputation after what happened with Elite Travelers.

Outside the cruise terminal, where buses awaited passengers for day tours, the marketing liaison waved her over. Before she’d even said hi to him, someone else called her name.

“Baxter!”

Her heart melted.

#Hardy x Hannah #Teninch fic #Broadchurch #Secret Diary of a call girl #travelers AU #lostinfic writes stuff

[snarky-styles]

“So, like…” She began, sliding the ice cream over to him, “Are you still hungry? Or thirsty, whatever it is,” “You did interrupt me mid-bite,” He muttered, accepting the ice cream cup. She narrowed her eyes at him, “So sorry I interrupted your mealtime with my freshly baked cookies and heart-drawn bags,” “Fair,” He accepted. “You didn’t answer my question,” She said, not looking at him. It was already taking all of her bravery to ask this, she couldn’t dare look him in the eye at the same time. “I’m still sorta hungry, but you don’t have to worry abou- oh!” He exclaimed, widening his eyes. “Oh? I- Really?” He asked, sounding shocked. “I mean… If you want. I took an iron pill this morning, but…” She said sheepishly. “You took an iron pill?” He asked, smiling. She nodded, “Isn’t that supposed to make your blood strong? I don’t know how it affects taste, but maybe it’ll stop me from passing out in your house,” She explained, rambling slightly. He only smiled at her, “That’s adorable,” She blushed, “It’s whatever, I was just… I mean, looking out for my health,” she said, making no sense. He giggled, “Course you were,”

or

Harry is a weird vampire and curiosity killed Y/N

Y/N had always been a curious person. At a young age, her parents can recall her crawling and waddling herself into trouble more often than most toddlers. She loved to explore, having broken out of her crib a couple of times until they were forced to buy a taller, safer one. She was unstoppable in this aspect, even as a child, she would run and look around the house, stumbling across many interesting objects in her parents and siblings rooms. People always told her she would make a good detective, especially teachers, since she looked in places and noticed things many didn’t, but she thought she’d be rather awful at the job. You see, she was always getting herself into some sort of trouble. Or, trouble was always finding her, at least that’s what her mom said. When she was old enough, she’d walk home from school on her own, wandering into the woods and exploring for awhile until she was covered in scratches and bug bites. She even got poison Y/N once, which was a real killer to deal with and almost discouraged her from entering that wooded area again. Almost. Outside of school, she was always sneaking out of her bedroom late at night to wander around, something her parents knew about, but didn’t care to put an end to. She never hurt herself too bad, besides a sprained ankle that one time she tried to cross a creek and tripped over a rock, and they learned early on she was a force to be reckoned with. They couldn’t be bothered, especially since she was a great kid in every other aspect. However, she did get a good scolding the time she decided to sleep out in the country when she drove too far out and didn’t want to make the journey back home at such a late hour. By the time she was off to college, she had explored every nook and cranny of her town, entered every abandoned building and climbed way too many stores and buildings for her to count. She had gotten the reputation of being “a bit odd” due to her late night excursions and several sightings of her sitting on roofs, but she really didn’t mind. It was all in good fun, anyways. Maybe her inclination to experiment was due to her hippie upbringing or her parents encouraging her to look into things that she was interested in. It could have even been the gymnast lessons she took that made her body more flexible and willing to climb, run, and jump. Either way, she blamed this odd, trouble inducing, characteristic for the situation she was in now. She was walking home from her early morning class at uni. The whole “early morning” part really pissed her off, by the way, considering it was her only class of the day. Since it was so early, she still had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn just to go to an hour class and have nothing to do the rest of the day. She felt more irked about this today than she normally did and her being more irked than usual always led to some sort of bad decision on her part. Today’s bad decision was breaking into a fence that clearly had the sign “no trespassing” nailed to it. This particular decision had been in the making for awhile now. Every time she took this specific back route to her apartment, she would pass by this rather large home. It was seemingly abandoned and ancient and each time she saw it, her curiosity towards it strengthened. The building itself was browned with age with dark green detailing swirled around the closed doors and empty balconies. The windows were intricately outlined by floral carvings, but they were impossible to see through since thick, dark curtains hung on the inside. There were never any cars in the driveway, something she looked for the first time she passed by the area, and from what she could tell, there were never any lights on. Due to its’ age, she wondered if it even had electricity. She supposed it didn’t matter much, since she was convinced no one lived in there, besides some wayward spirits. It was the cliche horror house of her dreams and it took everything in her not to just break in through the front door every time she passed by. She’d told her roommate, Emma, about her moral dilemma of breaking into the place and received a very Emma answer. Emma wasn’t very interested in Y/N’s excursions, never one to go out with her on her many fun (or so she said, dangerous) adventures. “That place is infested with demons, and If it isn’t, there’s probably black mold and asbestos everywhere. Even you’re not dumb enough to step foot in that death zone,” Y/N fondly recalled the loving words of her roommate right as her hand went for the knob of the door. She was dumb enough to step foot in the death zone and she was mighty excited for it. Her class had been just as boring as it always was, if not worse, and she was still slightly hungover from her self indulgent bottle of wine last night for passing her math test. She needed a pick me up and the creepy house with the broken down fence was the perfect opportunity. With her backpack slung over her shoulder and her phone light gripped tightly in her hand, she entered the threshold. She was expecting the place to be dark, beaten down and dusty as hell, hence her phone flashlight being on full blast, but she was met with a very different scene. The foyer was still dimly lit, the only light source being candles that lined the wall, but it was anything from broken down and dusty. There was a beautiful, deep red rug covering what looked like very old wooden flooring and two antique tables pushed up against each wall. Both tables had a vase filled with red roses, which looked freshly picked. This all aroused suspicion, with the smell of flowers in her nostrils and an impulsive voice in her mind telling her to carry onward, she walked further into the house. She tried to tell herself that she only walked deeper into the place because she could see the next room through the doorway, that if there wasn’t that sneak peek, she would have left instantly due to the many red flags presenting themselves to her. She never had good common sense and once again, was dreadful at following normal decision making processes, so she was really lying to herself with that one. Many people get a gut feeling or a bad taste in their mouth when something goes wrong, but she only gets curious and excited when she encounters something suspicious, which only eggs her on to carry her awful ideas through. This could definitely count as an awful idea, but she didn’t see that just yet. With quiet footsteps and knitted eyebrows, she entered a large sitting room. A matching red rug with beige floral detailing covered the large expanse of the floor and above it was antique furniture covered in red velvet material. There were bronze end tables with vases of roses at the end of each sofa and an ornate coffee table in the middle of the square of plush sofas. The walls were lined with bookshelves, jam packed full of books that looked like they weren’t even from this century, or the last one. Y/N almost walked over to one of them, wanting to run her fingers over the spines, or even grab one to see just how old they were. But, she saw something that caught her eye and made her freeze in her tracks. There was a book open on the table, a delicate china teacup next to it. It looked like a scene set in a historic home to give the viewer the idea that someone could live in it, but she had an inkling of a feeling that that wasn’t the intent. She narrowed her eyes, not wanting to move from her spot in the doorway, but also itching to examine the book and the expensive looking dishware. She blamed her love of all things antique on her next move. With careful steps, as to not make the floor creak, she approached the coffee table and glanced down at the book and the teacup. She instantly regretted this decision, which rarely happened in her adventures. The book, which was the least frightening of the two, was written in a language that she couldn’t even discern. There weren’t even letters that she recognized, only odd looking symbols that looked out of a spellbook. She wondered if it actually was a spellbook and if even looking at it would curse her and her family for the next one hundred years, but currently that was the least of her problems. Because, next to the book, the teacup, looked to be filled with blood. She looked down at it, slightly horrified, and examined the seemingly thick liquid that was emitting steam that smelled of metal. You would think that after finding a cup of blood and a book that looked straight from a witch’s home, she would regret her decision, but it wasn’t until someone else walked into the room did she realize she had made a mistake. She heard them before she saw them, the patting of their footsteps and their slight humming. They didn’t sound scary, so maybe that’s why she stood planted in her spot and only watched the entryway to the other room, waiting for whoever it was to see her. In these few moments was when she realized she was not only breaking and entering, but breaking and entering into the home of someone who not only read a language she had never seen before, had no electricity, but also drank blood. She was utterly fucked at this point, or at least she thought she was, until she saw the person who walked into the room. He looked as young as she did, with ruffled brown hair, dressed in comfy looking sweats and a t-shirt. His thin, yet defined, arms were covered in a scattering of tattoos of various ink intensities. To be honest, he looked like someone she could have in her art class, just another inked up boy with a charming face. Nothing about him was imposing, especially since he was carrying a tray of delicately iced cookies. At first, he didn’t notice her since he was looking down at his own feet, but when he did look up, sniffing the air slightly, he looked excited to see her. This was disturbing in more ways than one. Sure, he looked normal, but let us review the things in this home that were the very opposite of normal. The teacup filled with steaming blood. The weird spellbook. No electricity. The only way he noticed her was because he sniffed the air. “Oh, hello!” He smiled, showing sharp, pointed teeth and revealing a British accent that she barely noticed (See: “sharp, pointed teeth”). Her jaw dropped. He closed his mouth immediately, as if he had forgotten he had two very noticeable dagger looking teeth hidden behind his lips. He still smiled with his lips closed, which was very off-putting when it came to a normal person and was significantly worse when the person was a vampire.   She had seen a lot of things in her day, even encountered some forest nymphs one rainy day when she took a stroll through the woods, but never had she ever believed she would see something straight out of twilight. “Um,” She swallowed, “Hello,” He looked pleased with this greeting, like no one had ever said hi to him before. “Are you lost? Would you like t’ sit down?” He asked kindly, gesturing to the many sofas in the room. Her heart was beating at an alarming rate at this point and if she knew anything about vampires, she knew he could hear it. “I, uh, just took a wrong turn. I should really get going,” She said, trying her best to keep her voice normal as she prepared to run the hell out of this place. He frowned, looking disappointed. He was very cute, which was something she reluctantly noticed. “What’s your name?” He asked, bright eyes looking hopeful for conversation. She almost felt bad for him. From what she could tell, he was really shit at being a vampire. She wasn’t even scared of him, well, she was, but mostly just the concept of him. Not only was he shit at being his own species, he seemed really lonely. “Y/N,” She told him, eyes wide as she anxiously ran her thumb repeatedly over the back of her phone case. “I’m Harry,” He said proudly, setting down the cookies on the coffee table. “Nice to meet you, Harry. I… Have a class to go to,” She lied, rather poorly, before turning on her heel without even a goodbye and walking quickly to the exit. She was breathing heavy at this point, barely even registering that he shouted goodbye to her and broke into a run as soon as she shut the door behind her. She kept running, she ran until she felt like her lungs were going to explode and her legs were going to give out. Her heart was still thumping loud and fast, not only because of her lack of exercise as of late, but because of the ice cold terror running through her veins. It was days like today she really wished she had some sort of common sense and/or precaution. As she opened the door to her shared apartment, her breathing was almost back to normal, but it wasn’t hard for Emma to notice something was up since Y/N’s eyes were still wide. “What happened?” She asked, almost immediately. Y/N looked to see that she was laying on the couch, looking over the top of her book and directly at Y/N. Y/N only stared back at her blankly, before throwing herself onto the sofa next to Emma. Emma, who was used to this sort of behavior from her odd roommate, only stared at her and waited for an answer. “I think I… broke into a vampire’s house,” Y/N remarked, saying it as though she had just come to terms with it herself. Emma hummed, not sounding too phased by this groundbreaking news, “You need new hobbies,” She told her, eyes turning back to her book. Y/N relaxed into the sofa, eyes turning to look up at the popcorn ceiling above her. “He had a really nice house, lots of antique furniture,” She muttered, feeling like she was melting into the cushions. She felt calmer than before, her body coming down from her fearful high and making her feel like she was floating. “He? You met him?” Emma asked, still not taking her eyes off of her book as she flipped the page. “Well, yeah. How else would I know he’s a vampire?” Y/N inquired, lazily turning her head to the side to glance at Emma. Emma bit her lip, thinking for a moment, “Not sure,” “What was he like?” She asked, finally taking her eyes off of her book to look to Y/N, who was staring her down. “Looked pretty normal actually, he was wearing sweats. His name’s Harry,” She said, listing off the information she retained during the nerve-wracking experience. “You got his name?” Emma asked, sounding shocked. Y/N nodded, “Weird, right? He was British, I think. It even sounded like he wanted me to stay,” Emma rolled her eyes, “Wanted you for dinner, I bet. Don’t go around there again. Go to a bookstore or something if you get bored, ok?” Y/N scoffed, turning her head in the other direction. “The day I go to a bookstore when I’m bored is the day I die,” Y/N was incredibly bored. And she was in a bookstore. It all started after her dreadful early class, which her opinions on have already been discussed. Her mind was numb from the science lecture she just had to sit through and she needed to do something to get out of this funk. She didn’t even have her walk home to look forward too, since lately she had been taking the boring route home to her apartment, due to a mysterious mansion that was inhabited by a certain friendly vampire. The first couple of days after the encounter, she tried her best to forget about it, or convince herself it was some sort of hoax, but as the days went on, she found herself unable to forget the cozy looking vampire she had met. He seemed really interesting, or at least more interesting than a normal vampire, which was really weird to think about. She considered going to see him, entertained the idea for maybe a second before she realized she was crazy and even a friendly vampire is still a vampire. So, with the fluffy haired vampire in the back of her mind, she decided to walk around the town. There were always cute stores and coffee shops on every corner, doing their best to appeal to the college students in the surrounding areas. She was going to get some coffee, read up on her research project, and then maybe get some food, but something caught her eye. A small bookshop was tucked away in the corner of an alleyway, with a small old fashioned sign on the window saying it was open. It was very rare she took anyone’s advice, but she had a feeling Emma was right about this one. The place had a certain old fashioned warmth to it that made her feel welcome, so with Emma’s advice in mind, she reluctantly, having forgotten her declaration a few days ago, opened the door to the shop and stepped into the musky smelling threshold. The smell of the old books calmed her and the fact that it was deserted, besides a very old woman who greeted her when she walked in, was comforting to her. She wasted no time in going to the shelf that held the books she thought looked the oldest. A brown spined book caught her eyes and she picked it up gently in her hands, instinctively checking the front page to see how old it was. Her eyebrows were knitted together as she was met with familiar letters that she couldn’t distinguish. She placed the book back in it’s spot, face still furrowed with confusion as she reached for another one that looked equally as ancient. She flipped it open to a random page, squinting at the small print that remained in the same lettering as before. Her heart rate was increasing slightly, suddenly recalling where it was she saw this odd print. Almost as soon as she made this realization, a voice called out her name in surprise. With the book still in her hands, she turned around to see local friendly (maybe) vampire Harry, looking like an everyday college student. He didn’t much look like a vampire at all, which conflicted with her natural fear of him. He wore black track pants, lined with a red stripe down the side, along with a plain white t-shirt. Not to mention, his face, when his fangs weren’t on display, was naturally friendly and welcoming. He had kind eyes, the type of green that are inviting and warm, along with attractive, yet soft, features that would make her swoon if she knew he didn’t drink steaming blood from teacups. He had a stack of books in his arms, holding them easily against his chest. She blinked at him a couple of times, processing the appearance and existence of him before, unfortunately, remembering a certain declaration she had made. A declaration that had something to do with her eternal boredom, bookshops, and dying. At that moment, as Harry smiled at her, she came to the conclusion that she was fucked. She thought, with some regret, that dying at the hand of a cute vampire couldn’t be too bad, but really, dying is dying. “Didn’t know you liked shops like this,” He said, repositioning the books in his arms. She gave him a wide eyed stare, dropping the book she held in her hands to the floor. She really didn’t consider herself a coward, facing most situations brazenly, but right now, all traces of bravery that was once in her body had dissipated like smoke. Harry was quick to pick it up for her, eyebrows furrowed and a small frown on his lips. She flinched when he handed it back to her, searching all over his face for any signs that he was going to drain her of all of her blood in this very bookshop. She didn’t grab the book, keeping her hands to her sides. She was worried about interacting with him, every single piece of information she had ever learned or picked up about vampires leaving her mind as she entered a state of pure panic. He took the book, adding it to his collection, realizing she wasn’t going to take it back. She felt like her body was going to shut down with fear, which made perfect sense considering his… blood sucking habit? Anyways, her hands were shaking like she was about to give a speech in front of her lecture hall and an unappetizing sour taste was in her mouth due to her adrenaline kicking in. He seemed to notice all of her fearful actions and could most likely literally smell the fear on her and instead of jumping her like prey, which she was anticipating, he only looked guilty. He looked down to his feet, like he couldn’t bare to look her in the eyes, like he knew he was the reason she was so uncomfortable. This was really weird, or at least she thought so, but what he said next was even weirder. “I didn’t mean t’ scare you, thought you knew about... you know,” He mumbled, flashing his fangs briefly and pulling at her heart strings for reasons that weren’t fear related. She didn’t make any rash decisions, like instantly pulling a sad looking vampire into her arms, but stayed planted to the ground as she eyed him suspiciously. “Seemed so confident walking in, thought someone sent you or somethin’,” He continued, his deep voice rambling on as he continued to look down at his feet, looking ashamed. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering who he thought would send him a human. “Besides, been looking all over t’ apologize! Went to a couple of fairy alcoves to look for ya-” He began, now looking at her earnestly as she rose an eyebrow. “Fairy alcoves?” She asked, voice sounding much more curious and much less frightened than expected. “Yea… Are ya not a-?” He asked her slowly, looking confused. “I’m… Not a fairy,” She said, voice shaky since she really didn’t think she’d have to ever say that sentence and wondering if things might change once he realized she was a human. To think, she was just getting slightly more comfortable with him and now this new factor arises. Figures. He looked confused and a bit upset, shaking his head in disbelief, “Could’a sworn you were some kind of nymph. Got the sweet smell, ya know,” He mumbled, sounding disappointed. She gave a small huff at the mention of her “smell.” If he was trying to make her feel more comfortable, letting her know he could smell what species she was was not the right route. Odd smelling comment aside, as she looked at him, one of his fangs chewing slightly on his lip, she almost let out a sigh at how this seriously could not be happening right now. “Either way,” He said, perking up a bit, “Owe you an apology, wanna go get lunch?” Her jaw slackened slightly, lips parting as she gave a look of utter confusion. In a moment of fear induced idiocy, she asked a ridiculously stupid question, “Am I gonna be lunch?” It seemed to take him a second to process the question, before he, surprisingly, burst into a fit of giggles. “You’re very funny! Lemme pay for these and then we can go,” He said, turning around and walking towards the ancient lady at the cash register. She watched him leave, noticing he was wearing the same pair of vans as she was. Maybe it was because they had the same taste in shoes or maybe it was because he was charming and she liked the way his nose kept scrunching up while he spoke, but she stupidly decided to follow him to the front of the store. She supposed even if she was vampire lunch, it was sort of deserving at this point, judging by her frequent poor choices and run-ins with odd, mythical creatures. Slowly and cautiously, she walked over to the cash counter and stood beside him. He turned to smile down at her, to which she returned a blank stare and a blink. He turned back, still slightly smiling as he handed over some weird coins to the lady who Y/N was now suspecting to be some sort of witch judging by her long, plaited gray hair and raggy sense of dress. She didn’t bother to ask any questions she didn’t think she wanted any answers to, instead watching as the possible witch bagged the books Harry had picked out. “Wanna get some sandwiches? Or maybe a salad?” He asked a shell shocked Y/N, who was very annoyed, but not really surprised, she was in this situation. At this point, after the fear had partially subsided and only irritation with her current luck remained, she decided to just go with it. “Sandwiches sound nice,” She shrugged, letting out a small sigh as the lady handed Harry the large, paper bag. He gave her a grateful smile, taking the lead and opening the door for Y/N on their way out. She hoped that a vampire with manners enough to hold the door open for her wouldn’t want to kill her. Besides, as she watched Harry carefully hold the bag of books in his arms, she was starting to wonder if he had actually ever killed anyone at all. He had the enthusiasm of a little kid and the way he kept smiling at her were not the characteristics of a murderous beast. She wondered if he even knew she was a human, he should be able to smell that kind of stuff, right? Maybe he was just really shit at being a vampire, which she was beginning to believe, judging by the way he gave everyone he passed on the street a smile. “Y/N? Did ya hear me?” He asked, turning to look at her as she looked up at him blankly. “Sorry, what?” She asked, blinking quickly. He looked slightly concerned, but didn’t say anything about it, “Is here good?” He asked, repeating what he had asked her earlier with a kind patience that was very uncharacteristic of a vampire. She looked up at the small cafe he had brought her to, eyes looking for any red flags that might mean it’s a vampire feasting spot. She saw none, not if tired looking college students didn’t count, at least. “Sure,” She agreed, going to open the door for him this time, since his hands were full and she was trying to do everything in her power to make him like her enough to not kill her. He chose the table, since she was currently distracted by the situation of her being near a vampire for an extended period of time. It was silent as they sat down, Y/N absentmindedly sitting across from him in the booth as he set his books down in the seat beside him. He placed his elbows on the table, looking at her with a curious expression. “I’m not going to drink from you. I don’t do it like that,” He said, almost sounding slightly offended. She was only half listening when he began to speak, but this really caught her attention. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “How do you do it, then?” She asked, feeling rather ballsy since he did technically say he wouldn’t drink from her. He gave a small smirk, which made her a bit uncomfortable, but he carried on anyways. “It’s a consensual thing, usually people come ‘round, you know, asking,” He said, reaching for the small menu on the table that held the lunch specials. She gave him a curious look, “Asking?” She repeated. “Yea, people always wanna give it a try. It can be fun,” He said, looking proud. A small shudder ran through her at the mention of that, “Not for me,” She remarked. He smiled wide, “I can tell,” It was quiet for a few seconds, in which she just sort of stared at him curiously. “Should we go for a pick two?” He asked, eyebrows scrunched together as he perused the food options. “I-uh, what is that?” She asked, shocked from the subject change and still not feeling completely comfortable around him. She was trying to act like he was a normal guy from her college, but it was hard when every time he spoke she could see his two pointed teeth and how she was pretty sure his lips were tinted pink from blood. “Get a side and a sandwich. I love it here, they’ve got garlic soup!” He exclaimed with excitement, turning the menu around so she could see it. She stared at him in disbelief, “Garlic soup?” She asked him slowly. He nodded, an excited smile revealing his teeth once more. She sighed, shaking her head lightly at him as a small smile appeared on her lips, “You’re the oddest vampire I’ve ever met,” “Have you met many vampires?” He asked curiously, sliding the menu over to her side of the table. She glanced down at it, scouring the many options they provided. “Just you,” She answered. “I won't take any offense, then,” He muttered, making a small laugh brush past her lips. He looked very proud with himself after making her laugh, considering the whole time he had been with her she looked mortified or confused. Y/N, on the other hand, was very confused and slightly concerned that she was starting to get comfortable around him. She didn’t have too much time to think about it, though, because Harry jumped into a story. “Call me odd, haven’t met Niall. He always keeps his house so cold, like some sort of morgue,” He shook his head, as though he was disappointed. She stared at him, “Seems like normal vampire behavior,” Harry shook his head, “You’d think that! We’re already cold, don't’ wanna be more cold. My favorite thing is a good throw blanket, never know when you’re gonna get too chilly,” He remarked, saying it like it was something she was going to need to remember. She nodded along with his words, feeling a mix of confusion and amusement at what he was saying. “I’ll keep that in mind,” She remarked, hearing him chuckle. “What about you? Do you like throw blankets?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious. It was at this point in time she realized that Harry probably didn’t converse with humans very much and that she was slowly becoming less afraid of him, which was likely a dumb move on her part. “More of a heated blanket kinda girl,” She told him, watching as he nodded his head and hummed. He looked like he was going to say something else, presumably about blankets since that’s what vampires seemed to talk about, but a sweet looking waitress made her way over to their table. “Hey, Harry!” She said brightly, before glancing to Y/N and also throwing her a kind smile. Y/N smiled back, albeit a bit forcefully. “What can I get you two today?” Harry looked to Y/N first, “Uh, just a turkey and swiss with some macaroni, please,” The girl, it said Ava on her name tag, nodded, “And to drink?” “Lemonade,” Y/N said easily. Ava nodded, smiling at her yet again before looking to Harry. “Same as usual, H?” She asked, causing Y/N to furrow her eyebrows at the nickname. He seemed like a normal guy, but did this girl not know she was speaking to an actual vampire right now? Was she a vampire? Or was Y/N the weird one? She was starting to wonder if she should just accept this vampy shit and move on, but a societal rule clearly says that vampires aren’t normal or to be trusted. She seemed to have missed the tail end of the conversation, since she was worrying far too much to listen and by the time she looked up, Ava was gone and Harry was speaking again. “That’s Liam’s feeder. Super sweet girl. He met her here, actually!” He told her, smiling at the memory. “Feeder?” Y/N asked, disregarding the other information and going straight for the vocab word. Harry nodded, “She lets him drink from her. I think he’s falling for her though, if I’m being honest,” He said casually, glancing over to Ava who was getting their drinks. “Can that… Can he like a human like that?” Y/N asked, giving him a curious glance. Harry gave a small laugh, “She’s a nymph, silly,” He told her as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “A nymph?” Y/N asked, jaw slackened with disbelief. “You’re a naive little thing, aren’t ya?” He asked, looking at her with interest. “I resent that!” She defended immediately, frowning at him. “Can’t even tell a nymph when you see one? Don’t even know the world around ya,” He shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes, “If you could cut me a bit of slack. I’m sitting with someone who could very well kill me right now!” She told him, feeling something in her break. Her heart nearly stopped after she said it, praying to any Gods that existed that it didn’t cross some sort of vampiric line. “Is he scaring you?” Ava’s soft voice broke through the anxious fog that was now collecting in her mind. “He’s harmless, by the way,” Ava added, earning a resentful huff from Harry. “Um, I’m fine, thanks,” Y/N said, feeling very overwhelmed by everything that was happening around her. Ava nodded, not looking too convinced as she set down their drinks, not forgetting to throw Harry a glare before she left the table. Harry looked to Y/N, obviously noticing the fear in her eyes. “You can relax,” He said, sounding genuine, sounding so genuine she felt some of her very tense muscles relax. “I don’t bite,” He added, unable to contain his smile. She blinked slowly at him, scowling in an unimpressed manner. “How can I make you not scared of me?” He asked, in a tone so sweet it made her want to awe out loud. She shrugged, “Not sure, really,” He frowned slightly, before his eyes lit up like he remembered something. “I bought you that book you were holding, the one about werewolves!” He said proudly, reaching into the paper bag and pulling out the same book she had dropped upon recognizing him. “You bought the book?” She asked, watching as he slid it over to her side of the table. “Thought it was a nice gesture, you know, since you thought I was gonna eat you,” He reasoned. She bit her lip to contain her smile, the realization finally donning upon her that this fanged being was just as stupid as any other boy she’d encountered. Her fingers ran over the indented title in the language she still couldn’t understand, although apparently it was about werewolves. “Harry, this is really sweet and I don’t think you’re gonna eat me anymore, but…” She trailed off, her smile on her lips as she gave a small chuckle. “What?” He asked, looking confused. “I don’t even know what language this is,” She told him, opening the book to a random page. He huffed, sounding annoyed as she let out a small giggle. “You don’t know Arabic?” He asked, sounding shocked. “You do?” She asked, matching his tone. He narrowed his eyes at her, “It’s a very important language. I don’t know how you’ve gotten around so far without using it!” She gave him an amused smirk, “You really should get out more,” She suggested. He frowned at her, eyebrows furrowed together with confusion and slight irritation. “Well, if you can’t even read it-” He said, sounding disappointed as he reached across the table to grab the leatherbound book in his pale fingers. She scrunched her nose up, reactively reaching for the book back, her warm fingers briefly meeting his chilled ones. She ignored the feeling, since she didn’t wanna think too hard on the fact he had no warm blood running through him. He gave her a look of confusion as she slid the book into her bookbag, “I’m gonna keep it,” She said firmly. He rose his eyebrows slightly, “Gonna learn Arabic?” He asked. She chuckled, shaking her head, “God, no. It’s a symbol of you making a peace offering to not kill me,” He looked unimpressed, “I wasn’t going to kill you in the first place,” “Well, this book solidifies it. Which I appreciate, by the way,” She added on, her fingers still protectively placed on the rough cover as it sat at the top of her bag. He stared at her for a moment, his fanged tooth running over his bottom lip as he looked like he was considering her features. She stared back, a small nervousness in her mind at the sight of his alarming fang. “You’re a bit odd,” He decided, still concentrating on her face. She smiled, a shrug on her shoulders, “You sure are one to talk,” She said, gesturing to his exposed sharpened tooth. When he smiled brightly and let out a very un-manly giggle,Y/N realized she didn’t think it would be too bad to become acquainted with the fluffy haired vampire. Or, as she was starting to think of him as, fluffy haired Harry.

It had been a few weeks since her lunch with Harry and since then she had been seeing much more of the brown haired boy than expected. He had an interesting habit of popping up in places she frequented, such as the coffee shop she went to in between classes, her favorite organic grocery store and even the local library where she did most of her studying. Each occasion had been a surprise, but every time it happened, she became less and less shocked and disturbed by his sudden presence in her favorite spots. She considered it was because she had never noticed him before, but as he continued to pop up in places, she began to wonder if it was something else. The first time, she had been startled to no end, actually spilling her coffee all over herself when she heard his cheery voice. It had been right after her English literature class, she had decided to stop for an iced coffee, just like she usually did. She went to her favorite secluded corner, curling up in the booth, back to the wall and legs across the seat, a book in one hand and her coffee in the other. This reading was for school, but she found herself enjoying the gothic writing of Dorian Gray. Rather, she was enjoying it until she heard someone call out her name. At that point, she had jumped so violently and her muscles had tensed so suddenly, not only did the lid of her coffee pop right off, but all of the cup’s contents spilled directly onto her shirt. “Oh, bloody- I didn’t mean to-” The panicked British accent could only belong to one person and when she looked up, eyebrows furrowed in slight anger, her thoughts were confirmed when she saw Harry looking rather cozy in a hoodie and some sweats. “Hey, Harry,” She sighed, a shiver wracking through her body as her skin processed just how cold the iced coffee actually was. She was pretty sure there was an ice cube in her bra, but that wasn’t something she was worried about right now as Harry had since begun to ramble. “I- I had just- I was walking by, saw you through the window, had to stop by! I mean, I may have smelled you first, a couple of blocks down, but- Anyways, I just had to say hi. I really didn’t mean to-” There were several concerning aspects that came with this shakey admittance. The “smelled” her part was top of the list, but she really didn’t have time to worry about it since an ice cube was directly against her nipple and she had a very panicked vampire standing in front of her. “I-It’s fine,” She shuddered, swallowing hard as the ice turned from a cold sensation to a burning one. “I’ll buy you another coffee!” He suggested, already reaching for his wallet from the confines of his sweatpants pockets. “Don’t worry about it,” She said, beginning to climb out of the booth. “Oh, don’t leave! I wanted to talk to you-” This admission was sweet, yet slightly concerning since she didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but yet again, the ice directly against her nipple was more concerning at the moment. “I’m not leaving. I have ice in my bra.” She said shortly, feeling the ice melt and the freezing liquid drip down her sternum. He winced at this, probably imagining the feeling, and then began to do something unexpected. He reached above his head, reaching for the back collar of his hoodie as he pulled it off smoothly. She slightly furrowed her brows, looking around to see if anyone else was unnoticing him undressing in front of her. “Here- Take this,” He said, offering her the burgundy colored sweatshirt. She didn’t even argue, like she probably should have, as she took the hoodie wordlessly and rushed off to the bathroom. She didn’t even bother to get into a stall, ripping off her coffee drenched shirt as she made her way into a small stall in the corner. Once inside, she made quick work to fish the ice cube out of her bra, only to realize that the whole bra was soaked in cold coffee. With a sigh, she ripped that off too, shivering slightly in the air conditioned bathroom. She made quick work of putting the sweatshirt over her bare torso, only processing it was Harry’s until the scent of cologne filled her nostrils. She gave a small sniff, which was a bit weird, but she couldn’t help herself. It was a bit of a sweet smell, like vanilla or something, but with a hint of manliness, something she couldn’t put her finger on. She really hadn’t spent a lot of time analyzing mens cologne, however after being engulfed by it, she wished she had. It was interesting, really, that he smelled like cologne and not… metal? What were vampires supposed to smell like? Either way, she decided he smelled rather nice and his hoodie was so much warmer than her soaking wet clothes, even though he had no body heat. She tried to fold her bra up into her shirt as inconspicuous as possible, before she made her way back out to the dining area. When she returned to her table, she found a new iced coffee sitting on the wood, along with Harry sitting across from her spot with a straw between his lips and an orange colored drink in his hands. She made her way back to her seat, stuffing her crumpled and still damp shirt into her book bag as she slid into the booth. “I got you a normal iced latte. If that’s not what you ordered, then-” He said, words rushed as his eyes widened when he saw she was back. It was odd really, she remembered when she used to be anxious around him. She sighed, smiling slightly, “It’s great, thanks,” She picked up the cold coffee, just to prove her point and brought the straw to her lips. “Sorry about… Well…” He said, gesturing to the stained t-shirt she had sitting atop her book bag. She shrugged, straw still between her teeth, “S’fine. Your hoodies’ soft,” He smiled at this, almost proudly, as his eyes fell to look at the maroon hoodie that was now adorned on her body. “Got it ages ago. It’s older than you, I bet,” He said casually, causing her to raise an eyebrow. “How… Old is it?” She asked, her voice tentative like she didn’t really want to know the answer. She was curious, since it was in her nature, but having conversations with someone centuries old wasn’t something she was used to. “Got it in the 80s!” He exclaimed, taking another sip of whatever smoothie he had bought. She hummed with interest, “Love the 80s,” She remarked, chewing on her straw as she sipped her coffee. He nodded, clearly agreeing with her statement, “London had the best clothing store then, bit niche. Shut down a while ago, though,” He frowned slightly at the memory, looking down at his drink. “Sorry about that,” She muttered, eyes trailing over his fluffy hair, which was becoming a point of fascination for her. He always had it pushed up, the curls residing at the top of his head. However, he had little fluffy bits around his ears and at the back of his neck that always drew her attention. As if he had known she was thinking about, which he very well could have since she knew next to nothing about how vampires worked, his long fingers ran through the curly strands above his forehead. She tore her eyes away, just in case he could read her mind or something, and brought her attention back to her coffee. “What’d you wanna talk to me about?” She asked, after a couple of moments of silence after she remembered a certain panicked remark he made after the coffee spilling incident. His eyes widened slightly, the straw slipping from his mouth as he set his smoothie down on the table. “Wanted to know… How your classes were going,” He said, speaking faster at the end of the sentence like he’d just thought of it, which was what she was going for. She nodded, a small smirk on her lips as she answered, “They’re going good,” He looked pleased with this information, nodding seriously. “How’s… whatever you do going?” She asked, realizing she had no idea what he did with his free time. He smiled, looking happy that she had asked, “Really well! Haven’t been as many fights lately and bite numbers are down!” He exclaimed happily, which she could agree she was happy with. She gasped slightly, “That sounds great! Do you control that?” She asked, interested. She tried not to think too much on the fact that he was a vampire, even though it was really all she could think about, but she did restrain from asking too many questions in the fear of getting answers she didn’t want. He nodded, sipping from his drink again with puckered lips, “Gotta control the population, most of them know not to be dicks, but,” He gave a shrug. She nodded, intrigue written all over her expressions, “Are there a lot of you? You know…” She said, gesturing to her teeth instead of saying “vampires” aloud. He giggled, “A good number of us,” He remarked, before flashing her his fangs playfully. She rolled her eyes, “Feels weird to call you a… you know… You’re not very threatening,” She remarked, swirling her straw around her coffee. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, the small grin still on his lips contradicting himself, “Glad to hear it,” There was silence after that, pretty comfortable silence if you asked her. They sipped from their drinks, smiled at each other a few times, and made some random comments, but really that was the end of that encounter once Y/N had to go to her next class. She had bid him goodbye, not even thinking to grab his number, and wondered when she’d see him next, especially since she had left still wearing his hoodie. She had a feeling he’d manage a way to find her if he really wanted it back. She was sure he could somehow detect her with his weird vampire senses. Turns out, she was right about that. She was in her local grocery store, the one just blocks away from her apartment, looking to restock the fridge for the week. It was a mere three or so days since she’d seen him last, the memory still occasionally playing in her mind whenever she was performing mundane life tasks. She didn’t think she thought about him that much, even though every time she saw boys with curly hair or smoothies he crossed her mind, but her roommate brought it to her attention that she was a lot more spacey as of late. She really didn’t believe her or notice her inability to drift off into daydreams about fanged teeth and bubblegum lips, but she started to think she may have a bit of a problem when she absentmindedly slipped on his hoodie before heading out. She hadn’t even realized it until she’d grabbed her basket, having glanced down at her arm to see the maroon colored sleeve covering it, but at that point, it was too late. She’d just sighed, realizing for the one hundredth time that Emma was right when it came to her being ditzy lately, and carried on through the shop. She was trying to find the best fruits for smoothies, you can guess why she’d had that inspired thought, when she heard her name being yelled from a little bit away. She had turned around, already recognizing the deep, British voice, a smirk on her lips as she saw him jogging, pushing his cart and all, towards her. She momentarily forgot about the sweatshirt, since she’d been wearing it a lot recently for no particular reason, and because she was distracted by a very dapper looking Harry who was dressed in some printed pants. She smiled at his cute little wave as he approached her and she took that small amount of time to observe his outfit. He had on brown, plaid pants that fit him well, even though she’d only ever seen him in loose fitting track pants, along with an oversized and multicolored sweater. He had an interesting sense of dress, like someone who really didn’t know what was trendy, but he wore it well. “Like your pants,” She complimented, almost as soon as he reached her side. He smiled brightly, even wider than when he greeted her initially. “Thank you! Love the sweatshirt,” He said, gesturing to the much too large for her sweatshirt (of his, may she add) that she was donning. She cursed herself mentally for not only forgetting she was wearing his clothing and for bringing up the subject of clothes. “Laundry day,” She lied, mumbling slightly out of embarrassment. It was certainly not laundry day, actually the opposite since she did her laundry yesterday, but she was just pulled to the hoodie today for some reason. It was as if her brain knew she was going to be seeing him and it wanted to make it extra humiliating for her, like dropping a book and then coffee all over herself wasn’t enough. He really didn’t seem to mind, even looked a bit pleased with it, and if he was weirded out, he said and showed nothing. “Oh! We buy the same bread,” He said, sounding excited as his eyes flitted between his cart and her basket. She looked down as well, seeing the organic whole grain shit that Emma loved, so she bought it for her and secretly hoarded white bread in the back of the cabinet for herself. She was going to tell Harry this, thought it was a sort of funny anecdote, but he looked genuinely happy that they had the same bread, so she kept it to herself. She just smiled, unable to hide it since he really was so, so cute. “Can I do the rest of my shopping with you? Would you mind?” He asked, kind smile still on his lips like always. She nodded almost immediately, “You can tell me which fruits are best for smoothies,” She suggested. He pounced on that offer immediately, nearly knocking her over as he reached for peaches, raspberries, and all sorts of sweet fruits that really fit with his whole… thing going on. She had no idea what that “thing” is exactly, but she was getting lost in it alarmingly quickly and almost didn’t hear him speaking to her because her eyes were focused on a rampant curl that was swaying across his forehead invitingly. “Always get almond milk with it, too,” He told her, very seriously, as he bagged up her fruit delicately. She nodded, blinking rapidly as she forced her eyes to focus on his face and not that damned curl. He didn’t seem to notice her momentary distraction since he was very concerned with picking between two peaches. “One on the right looks fresher,” She remarked, turning her attention to the two fruits as well. He hummed, ultimately agreeing with her and placing the right one in the bag and tying it up. He placed them in her basket with triumph, giving her a proud smile, which she returned with a chuckle. “Thanks, never seen someone take fruit so seriously,” She told him, leading him to the next aisle as he followed without question. “After 500 years, you realize fruit is very important part of-” She stopped in her tracks, nearly tripping over her own feet as her jaw dropped. He had continued on, only stopping when he noticed she had. She stared at him in shock, “500 years?” She whisper-shouted, her throat tightening in that way it does when she’s trying not to scream. He smirked, “Too old for you?” Y/N only frowned at him, “Is that normal for a vampire?” Harry shrugged, “Liam just had his 1,500th,” Y/N scoffed in disbelief, “Jesus,” He only looked at her with an amused smirk, “How old are you, then?” She narrowed her eyes at him with annoyance, walking beside him anyways. “Too young for you,” She decided on, watching as he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s too young for me,” He retorted, before excitedly turning into the snack cookie aisle and promising to show her the best crispy chocolate chip cookies he’d ever had. There were no mentions of his centuries old age after that, only Harry encouraging her to buy loads of snacks she didn’t need. He made her shopping trip exponentially more fun and on her trips after that, she found herself wishing he was there, something she found herself thinking a lot. She loved thinking about him, really, he was a cool guy, but her midterms were fast approaching and her professors were throwing work at her left and right. She had several papers to write, a few minor assignments, and one huge research paper for her psychology class. She was usually really good with school work, getting ahead occasionally and not procrastinating to a point where she felt like she was buried. However, recently, she’d been daydreaming a bit too much and telling Emma vague details about a guy she kept seeing around. He had a habit of creeping into her brain, popping his fluffy head in with a kind smile and distracting her from her homework. She was so distracted, she knew she needed to go to a quiet environment so she could fully engulf herself in her work. She had gone to the library, wearing her own sweatshirt this time, and snuggled up in her favorite nook. It wasn’t really a place for people to sit, but it was in an odd section of the library that no one ever wandered into. She’d found it her first year of college, meandering through the corridors to see what she could see. When she saw it was usually uninhabited, she made a habit of sitting against the bookshelves. It had that smell she associated with antiques, a musky sort of scent that made her smile, even though it could have been mold or something. Today was no different when it came to her seating arrangement, with her back pressed against the spines of the books, she sat spread out on the floor. She had her materials scattered around her, a laptop open to her essay document, dozens of printed papers full of research, and her notebook of scribbled thoughts and outlines. She had been working for an hour or so, already having finished her first iced coffee and written a couple of pages of her research paper. She was feeling really proud of herself, not thinking about non-human species even once throughout the hour, until she heard familiar clumsy footsteps. She didn’t process it at first, only sighed slightly as the noise brought her out of a pretty good flow she had going on, but she only furrowed her brow and stared harder at the laptop screen. It wasn’t until she heard a whispered greeting, that made her jump, did she realize her distraction was here. She widened her eyes, ceasing her typing as she looked at him. He was holding a book, one that was all ancient and weathered, wearing some tight jeans and a cozy looking knitted sweater. “Oh, hey, Harry,” She said, giving him a small smile as he instantly sat next to her. She almost groaned, really needing to get this work done and knowing she’d be incapable when he was sitting right next to her, smiling all sweet with that oversized yellow sweater. “Homework?” He asked with interest, leaning close to her as he glanced at her computer screen. She would have turned it away from him, not wanting him to see her unrevised writing, but she was way too stressed to even think of it. “Midterm paper,” She clarified, leaning her head back against the bookshelf to allow him to read what she had on the screen. “Seems interesting,” He remarked, sounding genuine as he tilted his head at the screen. “Could be better,” She sighed, looking to her side as she resisted the urge to cross her arms and let out a bratty huff. She felt his eyes on her, could imagine how wide and curious they looked, “Seem stressed, love,” He told her. She felt a small blush creep onto her cheeks, not only for him being able to tell she was seconds away from imploding, and the term of endearment. “Very,” She chuckled, releasing a sigh as she turned to look at him. His eyes ran over her face, noting the bags under her eyes and her frizzy, tied up hair. “You should take a break. It won’t do you any good if you work while you’re tired,” He reasoned, giving her a serious look. She bit her lip as she thought on it. He was 500 years old, so she suspected he knew what he was talking about. She was feeling pretty drained, her coffee not having made up for her recent lack of sleep. She turned to glance over what she had written, to see if her tiredness had actually affected her work like Harry thought it did, it was pretty shit writing. She only sighed deeply, wanting to bang her head repeatedly against a hard surface as she realized she’d have to delete about a page of worthless writing. “Let’s get you some food,” Harry decided, already standing as she looked up at him with scrunched up eyebrows. “Where are you gonna get food?” She asked, firmly planted on the ground with no plans of moving. She closed her laptop shut, placing it on the floor next to her as she stretched out her legs in front of her. “They’ve got a cafe downstairs,” He told her, watching as she nodded absentmindedly. “What do you like? Chips, cookies?” He asked, listing off the most likely foods to be in the cafe area. “Just some chips, some water too, probably,” She said, adding water as an afterthought when she realized she was probably dehydrated. She reached into her bag, pulling out some cash, but once she turned to hand it to him, he was gone. She rolled her eyes, not having even heard him leave. With yet another sigh, she pushed her back further against the bookcase and pulled her phone out of the front pocket of her hoodie. She had a couple of texts from Emma, one telling her good luck with the studying and another telling her she saved her some dinner. Y/N smiled at this, typing out a thank you. Emma really didn’t luck out when it came to roommates, but she handled Y/N gracefully. She was a medical major, so you could imagine how horrified she was at Y/N’s lack of reasoning abilities and accident prone life. Emma tried her best to stray Y/N away from entering abandoned warehouses and suspicious neighborhoods, but as can be seen with Harry’s house incident, Y/N never listened. Although she was terrified with Y/N’s lack of care for her safety, they still made a great match. They’d quiz each other on their very different classes (Emma’s human anatomy and Y/N’s American literature), make each other dinners that catered to their food needs (Emma was a vegetarian, so Y/N would make her meat free dinners whenever she was in charge of meal time) and they were always open to talking about various relationship troubles. Emma currently had a crush on a girl from her biochemistry class and Y/N was always there to offer advice and support when needed. Y/N herself had even dropped a few hints that she was interested in someone, a certain fluffy haired boy who was actually walking towards her at the moment. She looked up, slipping her phone back into her pocket once she saw Harry approaching her with a rather large bag in his hands. She rose an eyebrow, watching as he sat back down next to her and set the bag down in between them. “Ok,” He began, not even looking at her as he started to reach into the bag. She watched him with confusion as he pulled out two wrapped sandwiches. “They had these sandwiches and they look so good! I remembered you liked turkey, but I got some ham too, just in case,” He exclaimed, holding them both up victoriously. He set them aside, reaching back into the bag and pulling out various small bags of chips. “Wasn’t sure what your favorite was, got ‘em all,” He muttered, setting those aside with the sandwiches and diving back in for even more food. Y/N’s eyes widened, looking between the already large collection of food and the bag which was still being emptied. “Harry…” She said, a bit shocked as he pulled out some bottles of lemonade and two brownies. He looked up at her with wide, green eyes, two bottles of lemonade in one hand and two brownies in the other, “Yea?” Y/N couldn’t help but smile, seeing the genuine kindness in his eyes that always made her heart feel all mushy and weird. She shook her head, chuckling lightly, “Nothing, thanks,” She said softly. He smiled wide back, only handing her a lemonade and brownie as response, before turning to grab the sandwiches and chips. She watched him fondly, her heart beating irregularly in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it, if he knew how she felt right now, which only made her heart beat a bit faster. Almost as if he had heard her think this, which was possible since she didn’t know the limits to his vampiric abilities, “Can hear your heart beating so fast, haven’t eaten in a while have you?” He asked with concern, passing her the turkey sandwich. She felt a blush rise up to her cheeks, looking down at her sandwich instead of up at him. “Gotta eat, love,” He remarked, throwing yet another pet name her way which only made her cheeks heat up more. She mumbled something incoherent in response, focusing on opening up her sandwich instead. He didn’t say anything further, only the sounds of plastic ripping filling the air, which made room for lots of curious thoughts to invade Y/N’s head. She nibbled on her sandwich, wondering what else Harry could hear of her organs. Could he hear her blood rushing through her veins? What about her lungs expanding? Did that even make a noise? She needed to ask Emma about a lot of this, maybe even read her notes, she knew absolutely nothing about anatomy. As she chewed thoughtfully on some chips, she let her curiosity get the best of her, “Hey, Harry,” She said, sounding pensive. She looked to him, seeing that he was taking a sip from his lemonade. “Hm?” He asked, looking at her with a welcoming smile. “What else… Can you hear?” She asked lamely, watching as he gave her a confused head tilt. She jumped into an explanation, “You said you could hear my heartbeat… Can you hear anything else?” She asked tentatively, feeling like she was invading his personal life by asking. He shrugged, “Can hear your heartbeat, yeah. Can’t hear so much as I can smell,” He said casually, which only made her more interested. “Smell?” She asked, popping a chip into her mouth as he chewed some of his sandwich. He nodded, swallowing, “Once I know someone’s scent, can smell ‘em miles away. You, for example, have this sweet smell, really distinctive,” He informed her, waving a chip around in the air since he was notorious for talking with his hands. She blinked repeatedly at the mention of her “smell,” something he’d said before, but she wasn’t really used to. “Thanks?” She said, not sure if her smelling sweet was an odd compliment of sorts. He giggled in response, “I think it’s your blood type, always had a knack for A,” She tried not to look too shocked at his blatant mention of blood consumption, which she knew was something she’d have to get used to. “Pretty sure I’m type O,” She said, peeling away some of the crust from her sandwich. He furrowed his eyebrows at this information, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” She smiled, rolling her eyes, “I’d say the same for you. I asked for chips and a water and got a feast,” She gestured to the layout of food between them, which Harry looked to sheepishly. “Being chivalrous,” He muttered. She only laughed more, “Makes sense, you were around when it was invented,” He gasped, playfully slapping at her thigh in false admonishment, “I’ll have you know I missed that mark by 300 years,” He told her proudly. She snorted, too busy laughing to even be embarrassed. “Missed when you were scared of me, weren’t mean to me then,” He mumbled, rolling his eyes as she burst into giggles. “You’re such a baby, for a vampire,” She choked out in between laughs. He only gave her an annoyed glance, before throwing the chip he was holding at her in response. She had gasped, grabbing at her disregarded crust and tossing it his way as a retort. That’s how they ended up having an impromptu food fight in the reclusive area of the library, laughing their asses off, her homework laying forgotten on the floor as they threw chips and playful insults about. She hadn’t gotten much work done that day, but she really didn’t mind it when she considered what she got in return. Harry had even walked home with her, carrying her book bag for her, even though she argued for him not to. They’d chatted about random things about her life that seemed incredibly dull when she spoke of them aloud. Things such as her book collection, the classes she was taking, the movies she liked to watch, her breaking and entering habit, and her favorite desserts. She felt dumb talking about herself, when she had a living piece of history next to her, but Harry seemed incredibly interested in all she had to say. If he was faking it, she thought he was doing one hell of a job, and if he was actually serious, her heart soared at the thought. She tried not to think of him as a vampire and it was becoming easier and easier, although she never thought it would. His teeth were always prominent, glinting in the sunlight if the rays hit him just right. She barely remembered the time she was scared of them, now only examining them with interest whenever she had the chance. He even let her in on some of his life, like how him and his friends lead the vampire clan in the area. She’d heard of Liam and Niall before, but that night she received information on Louis, Harry’s best friend and the first vampire he ever met. He didn’t expand on a story, only pointing out the fun fact and moving on. She made a mental note to ask him about it some day, but for then, only listening closely as he rambled on about some biting that had occurred days previous. They’d exchanged numbers that day, after Y/N gave a jab about him understanding technology. He’d typed his name in, adding the vampire emoji in after it, which only made her snort. It was hard to believe, or even remember, her fear she felt for him when they first met. This fluffy haired boy who giggled at his own jokes and bought excess food, just because he thought she hadn’t eaten. Besides, now, when she looked at him, all she felt was a fuzzy feeling in her heart and belly that definitely didn’t have anything to do with terror. Since that day, she found they’d gotten a lot closer, not only because of their bonding, but because of the number exchange. He texted her frequently, having texted her his whole walk home, which she found rather cute. She loved having a texting buddy, someone she could flirt with a bit and share banter with. She’d text with Emma whenever she wasn’t home, but when she had Emma right next to her, she never had reason to be typing away on her phone. So, one night when she’s been typing excessively while lounging on the couch, Emma finds herself getting suspicious. She’d noticed it a couple of days back, the way Y/N would check her phone frequently and smile, not so subtly, whenever it buzzed. She didn’t really think anything of it at first, until she caught Y/N giggling at her phone screen, which was an incredibly un-Y/N thing to do. After noticing this phone trend, she started to piece some things together. Her roommate had been way ditzier than normal, daydreaming during conversations and while she was cooking. After some inferring, Emma came to the conclusion that Y/N was a lot more serious about the brown haired boy she’d mentioned before. The thing about the brown haired boy, was that all Emma knew about him was that he had brown, curly hair that Y/N mentioned once dreamily, a habit of giggling at his own jokes, was very sweet to Y/N, and the fact that her friend was head over heels for him. In Emma’s mind, this wasn’t nearly enough information to go off of for her best friend’s new beau. So, she set off that night to find out more about this mysterious brown haired boy. Y/N, who was oblivious to this whole plan, sat comfortably beside Emma, a blanket over their legs as they watched a new documentary. Y/N had her phone out, like she usually did as of late, and was trying to suppress a smile from Harry’s latest text. Did you know that when I went to France in 1864 they taught me how to make the best macaroons? He was always throwing around facts like this, such as when he saved the British king from a vampire infestation and to this day is allowed stay at Buckingham palace. I didn’t know that, you’ll have to make me some sometime. She’d responded quickly, having already been texting him before he sprouted this information on her. She watched as the typing bubble appeared, then went away, then appeared again. This happened a lot, or so she noticed, and she liked to think it was because he was nervous about speaking to her, but she decided that she was just her projecting her feelings into him. With a small sigh, she turned her phone screen black and placed it in her lap, waiting for the next buzz. In the meantime, she focused her attention on the environmental documentary Emma had put on. She was just getting into the story about the mama and baby lemur, when Emma started to speak. “Haven’t heard about fluffy haired boy in awhile,” She remarked casually, not even looking up from her phone. Y/N smirked at the mention of him, “Still fluffy haired as ever,” Emma let out a small huff of laughter, before settling into silence for a few moments. She started to speak again though, right after Y/N had redirected her attention to the tv. “Has he asked you out yet?” She inquired, turning to look at Y/N this time. Y/N swallowed, heart rate increasing at just the thought of Harry thinking of her in that way, “Uh, no. Think we’re just friends,” She muttered. Emma frowned, her eyebrows scrunching up a bit, “No guy I’ve ever known texts a girl that much if he isn’t interested,” She observed. Y/N shrugged, “He’s different,” Emma immediately groaned in response, “You’re so whipped,” Y/N gasped, “I am not!” She yelled defensively. Emma only looked at her, eyebrow raised in an unamused manner. Y/N settled down, looking sheepish, “Maybe I’m… a bit whipped,” She admitted quietly. Emma nodded, “More than a bit. Caught you mumbling in your sleep a couple of nights ago. Asking for a bite or something, you kinky-“ “Shut up!” Y/N squeaked, wincing at the mention of her dream, which she could clearly recall. Emma only laughed, “Not judging,” She said, putting her hands up. Y/N pouted slightly, blushing beet red as she looked anywhere but at Emma. “He’s just…” Y/N said, trailing off as she tried to think of a word that could even describe Harry, let alone how she feels about him. “Different?” Emma offered up, meeting Y/N’s gaze with a small smile. Y/N smirked, biting her lip to keep from giggling. Emma only laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her in for a side hug. Y/N snuggled into her side, resting her head on her shoulder as she turned her attention back to the tv. Talking to Emma about him for just that short amount of time made her feel so much better. It was the best feeling being able to let out all of that bottled up fondness she had towards him, even if just for a moment. She needed to talk to her more about him, open up some, maybe even let her in on the whole truth. However, she couldn’t imagine Emma would be as adaptable as Y/N had been. She could see Emma staying in the fear stage for much longer than Y/N’s one week. She pushed the thoughts aside anyways, being reeled back into the documentary at the words “baby iguanas.” Her phone long forgotten and the sound of Emma’s heartbeat filling her ears, Y/N’s eyelids began to drop. The sound of the narrator’s voice almost lulled her to sleep, until a knock sounded on the door. Both Emma and Y/N sat up, since they never received visitors, especially not late at night. They looked to each other, faces mirroring a look of confusion that consisted of furrowed eyebrows and questioning eyes. They both stood, Y/N going for the door as Emma followed closely behind, phone in hand. They didn’t live in a bad area, but they were two college girls living in an apartment and any unexpected visitors after 9 pm is enough to arouse suspicion. Y/N was ready to signal for Emma to call the cops, expecting some weirdo or drunk to be slumped outside of their door, but when she opened it, rather cautiously, she was met with a very different sight. It was Harry. He was wearing his usual attire, some sweatpants along with a sweatshirt. This time, his curly hair was pushed back by a red bandanna, that she’d never seen before. He was looking down at his phone in one hand, his other hand holding a plastic bag with hearts on it that held… “Macaroons?” She asked, voice excited as she reached for the designed bag. Harry jumped, looking up from his phone, only to smile as he gave her the baggie. “Had some made, thought I’d drop ‘em by,” He mumbled, melting a bit under her excited expression. “Like the hearts,” She complimented, examining the pink hearts on the plastic bag. He looked down at his feet, which was in her top ten cutest things she’d ever seen anyone do, “Had ‘em around, thought you’d like them,” She almost awed aloud right there, wanting to hug him tightly, but after she ate some macaroons. She would’ve done all of these things, if it wasn’t for Emma. “Y/N? Who’s out there?” A voice called from inside. Harry looked interested, craning his head to try and get a look inside at what he suspected was her roommate. He’d been told about Emma only a few times, mostly off-handedly, like some of her random relationship troubles and her favorite types of juice. Y/N, on the other hand, had been so surprised by Harry she forgot about her worried roommate. “Oh, uh…”  Y/N stuttered, not being able to prevent Emma from opening the door wide and seeing Harry standing there, a smile on his pink lips. He had his lips closed, which was something Y/N noticed and swooned at. He truly was the most considerate vampire. Emma’s jaw dropped, looking at him and then turning to look at Y/N. “You’re fluffy, brown haired boy!” She practically shouted, causing Harry to widen his eyes in surprise. “Emma-“ Y/N said, putting a hand on her friend’s arm to get her to calm down. It didn’t even work a bit. If she freaked out this bad just for “fluffy, brown haired boy” she couldn’t even imagine her reaction to him being the vampire she’d encountered weeks ago. Well, actually, she could kind of imagine it and every scenario that ran across her head was less than pleasant. “Oh my God! Hi, I’m Emma,” She said quickly, extending her hand immediately to Harry, who took it politely, but clearly looked a bit offset. Y/N only watched helplessly as she waited for him to introduce himself and prayed to any God that would listen that Emma wouldn’t remember the vampire named Harry she’d mentioned weeks ago. “I’m Harry,” He said, shaking her hand and smiling kindly. Y/N watched with bated breath, heart beating so fast Harry even glanced at her suspiciously. She didn’t even care though, focusing on Emma’s face as her eyes widened briefly, pulling her hand back casually from her handshake with Harry. “Y/N…” She said slowly, with a tone of interest. “Emma-“ She said, getting cut off exactly as she had when she’d said her name before. “Is this Harry the vampire? The house you broke into?” Emma asked, looking him up and down curiously. “She didn’t break in, the door was unlocked,” Harry added, stepping closer to Y/N as Emma smirked. “Always getting herself into trouble. Least you’re cute,” She shrugged, patting Y/N on the back as she giggled at her friend’s humiliated expression. “She is, isn’t she?” He grabbed Y/N’s wrist, leading himself and Y/N into the apartment. Y/N’s eyes widened, a smile breaking out on her lips that she tried to hide by biting her lower lip. “Was talking about you,” Emma said, bringing a blush to both Harry and Y/N’s cheeks. “These ones are chocolate and hazelnut,” He explained to her, ignoring Emma and picking out a coffee colored macaroon from the decorated baggie and handing it to her. She just looked at him with a slack jaw, hearing Emma’s footsteps behind her as she stared at Harry’s expectant smile. Reluctantly, she took a bite of the macaroon, just to appease him since she knew he wouldn’t be happy until she tried them. Emma, who was now watching them with a small smile was ignored by Harry and ultimately ignored by Y/N as she gasped at the flavor of the macaroon. “Holy shit! These are so good, Harry!” She exclaimed, mouth still full as she took another bite. Harry smiled proudly, fishing out another macaroon for her to try. “Em, you gotta taste these!“ Y/N exclaimed, already extending a macaroon to a willing Emma. Emma happily nibbles on the delicacy while Y/N gave another smile to Harry. “You’re very good, thank you,” She said, earning a wide and adorable smile back. “I’ll make you cupcakes next,” He promised almost immediately which made her heart melt in her chest. “So,” Emma interrupted, mouth full of macaroon, “Are you two vampire friends with benefits or?” Y/N choked in response, giving Emma a sharp glare, “No! Emma-“ Harry, who had a small smile on his face from Y/N’s reaction, informed Emma, “She isn’t my feeder,” He looked to Y/N, eyes always lingering on her features much longer than normal, before turning to face Emma since she was talking. “What?” She had asked, shaking her head lightly. “I don’t feed from her,” He clarified, being met with blank stares from both women that clearly said they weren’t following. “I don’t drink from Y/N. It’s a consensual thing, she’s not my feeder,” He reiterated, watching both of them blink. “You two are weird,” Emma shook her head, watching as Y/N picked up another macaroon. “But her vampire is my vampire so, we’re watching a nature documentary, if you wanna join,” She announced, mouth full of macaroon as Y/N tried not to groan from embarrassment. Harry smiled, immediately prancing over to the couch. Y/N remained still, only watching as Harry took a seat at the end of the couch. He turned to look at her, waving the bag of macaroons in the air as a gesture for her to come over. She swallowed, taking in the scene of the two of them sitting as far apart from each other as possible, but walked over anyways and panicked over where she was gonna sit. Should she sit in the middle? Equal parts away from both as a way to stay neutral? Or, should she cuddle up with Emma like before? As a way to apologize for not disclosing her relationship with Harry? Should she sit near Harry? Just on the basis that she wanted to be near him? While all of these thoughts pounded against her skull, she hadn’t noticed her legs were carrying her to the couch and setting her body right beside Harry. That was that issue solved, she supposed. However, a new issue was the eyes she felt on her that belonged to Emma. She couldn’t tell the emotion behind the stare, whether it was teasing or fondness. Harry, who was either very oblivious or simply didn’t care, only handed Y/N the bag of macaroons and comfortably draped an arm over her shoulders. Y/N, who tensed up immediately at the contact, took the macaroons in her shaky hands and stared straight ahead at the tv. Emma, who had control of the remote, had yet to start the show again, so the room was once more shrouded in silence. Y/N, the bag of macaroons in her lap, her vampire crush’s arm draped over her and who could practically taste the tension in the room, wondered what exactly she’d done previously to deserve this fate. “The iguanas are trying to escape the snakes, really riveting stuff,” Emma remarked in a dull tone, pressing play on the documentary. Y/N huffed, knowing it wasn’t Emma’s choice to watch the documentary, but she couldn’t help but defend herself, “It is actually very interesting,” She muttered, staring at the tv. She heard Harry chuckle beside her, “I’m sure it is, love,” He agreed, causing her to smirk. Emma, who Y/N knew was probably dying to say something about the exchange, remained silent and the only sound was the relaxing voice of the narrator. Y/N, who was already sleepy in the first place, sunk her head back into the couch, eyelids hooded with sleep. “Can put your head on my shoulder,” Harry whispered, gently giving her shoulder a push to gesture that it was alright. Y/N obliged, not even thinking and feeling too comfy and sleepy to care. With one swift movement, she settled her temple against his shoulder, eyes still focused on the tv. “Have you ever been to the Galapagos?” She asked quietly, feeling his fingers trace over the skin of her arms as she relaxed against him. Her fingers went to the sleeve of his sweater, since his arm was laying across his stomach. She played with the soft material, Harry looking down at her with admiration. He hummed out a negative, “Never saw a reason to,” Y/N felt the most calm she had in awhile, momentarily forgetting about her school deadlines and her, most likely, still upset friend on the other side of the couch since she was too busy breathing in the scent of Harry and feeling the odd temperature of his body. He was cool at first, a refreshing chill, but was now warming, possibly due to her own body heat. “Shouldn’t you have gone everywhere? Since you’re a vampire?” Emma asked, sounding curious from the other side of the couch and bringing Y/N from her small dream land of Harry. “Emma..” Y/N scolded lightly, rolling her eyes subtly as she gave Harry’s wrist a squeeze as a form of apology. He shrugged, taking the chance to twist his wrist in a way that meant she was now holding his hand, “That’s a fair point. Some places are just better than others, I guess,” Emma hummed, Y/N not really paying attention to any of it since she was focused on the feel of Harry’s finger stroking the top of her hand. “How old are you, anyways?” Emma challenged, eliciting a deep sigh from Y/N. “500, give or take,” Harry shrugged casually, causing Y/N to close her eyes for a long moment, waiting for Emma’s response, whatever it may be. She only heard a hum, and opened one eye suspiciously as she waited for more. Nothing more came. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, how could she freak out about the vampire aspect but not the 500 years? “Did you know Elizabeth Bathory? I’ve always been curious about her,” Emma asked, causing Y/N to only scrunch up her nose in confusion. “She was a bitch,” Harry responded, causing Y/N to giggle at his unexpected reaction. This caught the attention of both Harry and Emma. Harry only gave her hand a squeeze, while Emma turned to look at them and smirked. Her eyes ran over their position, Y/N tucked into Harry’s side, hands intertwined and Y/N’s legs folded to her side. Her lips upturned so strongly she could barely contain the teasing smile, before turning to face the tv. It was silent for a few moments, only the narrator’s voice filling the room, before Y/N began to whisper very quietly to Harry. “What did Elizabeth Bathory do to you?” She asked, her voice hushed since she was so close to him. “Also,” She added, “Who is Elizabeth Bathory?” He chuckled, “Ever heard the rumor that vampires bathe in the blood of virgins?” He whispered to her, causing Y/N to blink rapidly. “You don’t, right?” She asked, almost immediately. Harry snorted, “Too sticky,” Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes. “She started that,” He answered. Y/N crinkled her nose in disgust, “That’s a lot of virgin blood,” Harry hummed, “I know, right? It never caught on,” “Should we watch a vampire documentary instead?” Emma interrupted, causing Y/N to flinch since she, quite rudely, forgot she was there. Y/N shook her head with disdain, eyes turning to look at the cute island animals on the screen. “Y/N says no,” Harry remarked, causing the girl in his arms to giggle. Emma stared at them, clearly biting her tongue, “Y/N, pass the macaroons,” She decided to say. Y/N, who had forgotten she had the macaroons, grabbed them from her lap easily and untwined herself from Harry to hand the macaroons to Emma. Emma thanked her, opening the bag as Y/N crawled back to Harry’s side. He wrapped his arm around her again, as he listened to Emma speak. “You know,” She said, mouth full of macaroons, “Y/N can bake,” Y/N groaned, “It’s cookies, not french delicacies,” “I like cookies!” Harry defended. “She’ll have to make some for you,” Emma decided, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “You’re worse than my mom,” Y/N muttered. Emma giggled and Harry let out a laugh, his fingers running through Y/N’s hair. Y/N sat up, reaching across the couch to Emma, “Give me the macaroons, you don’t deserve them,” Y/N remarked, snatching the bag with hearts on it from her hands. Harry chuckled, watching as Y/N returned to his side of the couch and nibbles on a macaroon. “You’re a child,” He told her fondly. She looked up at him, pouting, which didn’t help her case. “Finally a voice of reason in this house,” Emma muttered. “Now shut up, the polar bears are on,” Somehow, after a full bag of macaroons and several episodes of the documentary, all three ended up asleep on the couch. Y/N was the first to go, cuddled up into Harry’s side, his fingers massaging her scalp, was a sure fire way for her to fall asleep. After teasing Y/N for falling asleep, Emma was gone too, curled up on the couch with her head on the arm of it. Harry, after realizing he was the last one standing, didn’t see the harm in falling asleep as well. He was mighty comfortable, with a cute girl cuddled into his side and keeping him warm, so it wasn’t difficult to nod off, listening the steady beat of Y/N’s heart.

When the three awoke, it wasn’t as peacefully as they had fallen asleep. A loud, and jarring, alarm had caused all three to jolt awake. Y/N groaned in displeasure, stretching her neck as she sleepily sprawled out onto Harry. Emma, who was muttering with annoyance, glared at Harry as he realized the sound was coming from his phone. He cursed, then apologized, as he frantically reached for his phone. He ended the alarm, eyes widening as he saw the label. “Sorry! I have a meeting,” He said, trying to keep his voice hushed since Y/N was still clinging onto him like a small koala. “It’s eight am, dude,” Emma scolded, checking her own phone. “He’s an important vampire,” Y/N mumbled, detaching herself from Harry as he rose from the couch. Harry chuckled, kissing her forehead as he smiled down at her sleepy form. He reached for a blanket that hung over the back of the couch, gently laying it over Y/N. “Nice to meet you, Emma,” Harry whispered, making his way over to the door and sliding on his shoes. “You too,” She mumbled, curling back into the couch. Harry smirked, looking over the two girls who were already back to sleep, as he left through the door.

“Was it a fever dream or did I meet your vampire boyfriend last night?” Y/N, who was still half-asleep, turned to look at Emma, who was on her phone. “Is he gone?” Y/N asked, stretching out on the couch. “Left this morning, you said he was an important vampire,” Emma recalled, making Y/N wince. “Ugh, of course I did,” Emma chuckled, “Want breakfast?” Y/N smiled, “Eggos!” She exclaimed, rising from the couch and prancing into the kitchen. “You really are a child,” Emma remarked, watching her friend, in her too large sweater, stand on the tips of her toes to reach in the freezer. “Huh?” Y/N asked, turning around to look at Emma. Emma just shook her head with a smile, grabbing the empty macaroon bag from the couch before she walked into the kitchen. “Do you think he just had these heart bags or do you think he bought them for you?” Emma asked, examining the valentine’s themed bags. “Probably just had them,” Y/N shrugged, holding the box of eggos in her hands. “I bet he bought some,” Emma mumbled, giving the bag one last look before throwing it away. Y/N ignored her, too focused on unpackaging the eggos and placing them into the toaster. “Hey, you should make him some cookies,” Emma suggested, leaning against the counter as she watched Y/N make the eggos. “Isn’t that overkill?” Y/N asked, staring at the toaster. “He kissed your forehead before he left, I think he’s into you,” Emma remarked. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips, making her look insane as she beamed down at the toaster. “Snickerdoodles?” She asked, reaching for the freshly popped eggos. “Mm, chocolate chip. Simple, yet great,” Emma said tastefully, walking over to Y/N as she grabbed a plate with an eggo in it. Y/N only smiled, “Did he really kiss my forehead?” She asked, biting her lip. Emma rolled her eyes, “Yeah, now eat your waffles, lovebug,”

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, watching Y/N from her perch at the kitchen island. Y/N, with a sharpie in her hand, looked up at Emma with innocent eyes. “Nothing,” She mumbled. “Are you drawing hearts on the baggie?” Emma asked, squinting down at the ziploc bags in front of Y/N. “No,” Y/N said quickly, reaching for the baggie and turning around to hide it in the most obvious way possible. “You’re hopeless,” Emma shook her head, looking back down at her notes. Y/N, who was now working on the opposite counter only smiled softly as she continued to lovingly draw the hearts onto the ziploc bags. “He’s very sweet,” Emma said after a couple of moments of silence. Y/N hummed in agreement, finishing off the hearts on the bags. “He seems to really like you,” Y/N shrugged, grabbing a spatula as she inspected the cooling cookies. “He seems to really, really like you,” She reiterated, making Y/N giggle. “I don’t think he hangs out with humans much,” Y/N said, placing three cookies into each of her four bags. “His teeth are cool,” Emma added. Y/N snorted, “Aren’t they?” She agreed. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird when you kiss?” She asked, writing something down on her paper. “Might be cool,” Y/N shrugged. “Do you think he has a biting kink? Or, like, a blood kink?” Emma gasped, looking up at Y/N with wide eyes. Y/N choked on her spit, holding four bags of cookies in her hands. “Do you?” She asked, eyes wide. “Probably! What if, like, he drinks when he… you know…” Emma said, giving her a knowing tilt of the head. “I don’t wanna think about it,” Y/N shook her head. “But, you are!” Emma protested. “I am,” She conceded. “I bet he’s some sort of sex god,” “Jesus, Emma,” Y/N cursed, running a hand through her hair. “C’mon! You know he’s got princesses under his belt,” Y/N frowned, placing the baggies in her tote, “I don’t want to think about Harry sleeping with princesses,” Emma nodded, “Understandable,” “Are you ever gonna let him drink from you?” Emma asked, climbing down from the island stool as she followed Y/N into her room. Y/N, who threw her tote onto her bed, took off her hoodie easily and shrugged at Emma’s question. “I don’t think he wants to drink from me,” She remarked, grabbing her favorite t-shirt from her closet. Emma, who had sat down on Y/N’s bed, only frowned at her friend, “He stares at you like he wants to eat you up, literally.” Y/N scoffed, exchanging her athletic shorts for some jeans. She reached down, cuffing the bottoms of them as Emma continued to talk, “Just ask him!” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Isn’t drinking from someone intimate?” Emma rose her eyebrows, “Done your research, I see,” Y/N gave her a side eyed glance, rolling her sleeves up. “Listen, wouldn’t you rather it be you than someone else?” She offered. Y/N thought on it, biting her lip, “That isn’t a good reason to do something,” Emma only shrugged, handing Y/N her tote once she had slipped on her shoes. “You have plenty of time to think on it when you walk to his place,” She said simply. Y/N took the tote with a mumbled thanks, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “Go get that vampire dick,” Emma said in all seriousness, causing Y/N to sputter out a cough of surprise. “You’re disgusting,” She countered, walking to the front door as Emma followed. “I’m supportive,” Emma defended, waving her friend goodbye as Y/N left through the front door. Y/N, who was still mildly shocked by Emma’s bluntness was left with a lot to think about as she made the trek to Harry’s house. Emma, while graphic, was right on several points. Such as how Y/N would rather Harry drink from her than from some other girl. It was selfish, sure, but at this point she had a feeling he knew he liked her and if she had to let him drink her blood to be with him than so be it. Maybe she’d even like it. She wondered what her blood would taste like, or if he would like it. He’d said before she smelled sweet, which seemed promising, but did that correlate to tasting sweet? How would she even proposition him biting into her? Would she just have to tilt her neck and look at hm until he got the hint or did they need to have a full discussion? Was there a non-disclosure agreement? Did she need a lawyer? All of these thoughts swirled around her mind as she walked mindlessly to Harry’s place, making her so oblivious that she barely realized she had even arrived. With some rapid blinks, she cleared her mind of previous blood kink thoughts and other vampire related sex subjects, as she reached for the baggies of cookies. She knocked a couple of times on the door, rendering no response. She looked up at the huge house, wondering if he could even hear her knocking if he was on a separate floor. With this in mind, she simply entered the house and made a mental note to tell him to invest in a doorbell. Humming as she walked, she entered the living room and gasped at what she saw. Harry, who was shirtless, had a girl on his lap and his face buried in her neck. Her head was rolled back in bliss, eyes screwed tight. Y/N, who was frozen from fright and also about to throw up, let out a squeak, which would have been a scream if she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out. Harry, who could hear her rapid heartbeat and then her scream, pulled his teeth away from the girl who was atop him and stared with wide eyes at Y/N, who had dropped the cookies she was holding. “I-“ She stuttered, lip quivering as she looked at the scene. “Sorry,” She mumbled, turning on her heel and walking out of the house sluggishly. She felt like she was going to collapse, walking so slow she wondered if she should just get a taxi instead of walk home. A voice stopped her, her feet stopping in her tracks even though she didn’t want them to. “Y/N!” Harry yelled, causing her to turn around and see him in his skinny jeans, tattooed torso revealed and blood on his lips. “You have blood on you,” She said, not wanting to say anything else. “I didn’t think you were coming by,” He remarked, wiping the blood from his lip with his hand. Y/N only stared sadly at him, before turning away. Emma was right. She would much rather it be her than someone else.

Her feet took her all the way to a coffee shop, dragging them against the pavement pathetically as she stared down at her hands for the majority of the walk. She didn’t bother to order anything, only went to a secluded corner and slouched into the booth. With disdain, she realized it was the same booth Harry had made her spill her coffee all over herself. She scrunched up her nose with disgust, letting out a sigh as she pulled out her phone. She saw she had some texts from Emma, but frowned when she saw what they said. Get your blood sucked, girl! She turned her phone off quickly after, throwing it on the table harshly and not even bothering to see if it was cracked. She rested her head against the cold window, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. “You alright?” A familiar deep voice asked her. She opened one eye to see a now dressed Harry staring down at her. He was in a large sweater, with the same jeans she had seen him in last. “Jesus,” She cursed, sitting up as she scowled at him, “Did you follow me here?” “I can smell you, do you not remember anything I tell you?” He smirked, which she returned with a grimace. He didn’t bother to ask as he slid into the seat across from her, his hand reaching for the table menu. She only watched him, with fiercely knitted eyebrows, as he perused the menu. “Want a mocha?” He asked, running his other hand through his tousled hair. She said nothing, only looking at him with the same ferocity. He looked up at her over the menu, frowning. “I didn’t think I’d scared you that much,” He sighed, setting the menu onto the table as he leaned back against the booth. She furrowed her eyebrows, “Scared me?” She repeated. “Yeah, you know…” He said, flashing her his teeth. She only stared at him, blinking slowly as she frowned. “What? You not going to talk to me? I thought we were over you being afraid of me,” He remarked, sounding the most annoyed she’d heard him yet. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What?” He challenged, crossing his arms. “I just think it’s… rude,” She said sharply, crossing her arms as well. “What’s rude?” He asked. She huffed, “How you can cuddle with me and then have some other girl on your lap. What if she really likes you? That’s not fair to her,” Harry rose an eyebrow, a confused expression on his face. “What?” He asked, staring at her obliviously. “Emma said you even kissed my forehead! A-And then, you just…” Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, biting her lip to keep from crying. She cries when she’s angry sometimes, but it’s hard to tell if she was about to cry from anger or hurt. “Oh, don’t cry, darling,” Harry said, reaching across the table to try and touch her hand. She pulled away from him, pouting like a child. He looked taken aback, retreating his hand and staring at her warily. “So… You’re not afraid of me?” He asked, eyebrows slightly narrowed. Y/N groaned, looking around the cafe as if she was going to meet eyes with someone who would give her the “What’s up with this guy!” expression. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” She asked. “So… You are afraid of me?” He tried again. “Jesus Christ, I like you! I was gonna ask you to drink from me!” She nearly exploded, feeling the weight rise from her chest almost instantly. “Woah, what?” Harry asked, leaning back in shock. Y/N let out a small, sadistic laugh, “Silly, right?” She asked, voice breaking slightly. “But I thought…” He trailed off, staring at her with what would best be described as interest. “That I was afraid of you,” She finished easily, staring at him sadly. “Which is really dumb since I literally fell asleep on you last night. Not to mention I wear your stupid hoodie all the time and text you non-stop and look at you like you actually created the universe,” At this point, she was vomiting out confessions of admiration and she was way too distraught to stop herself. If he didn’t like her, so be it. The least she could do is make him feel as guilty as possible. “You like me?” He asked, right as she continued to speak. “I made you fucking cookies! Cookies! I hate baking so much! I only made them because your stupid eyes lit up when Emma mentioned I made cookies. I hand drew hearts onto those bags! Hand drew!” She was near hysterical, not yet crying, but crying would have been better at this point since she looked damn near insane. “I like you too,” Harry said, unbeknownst to Y/N who was still rambling on angrily. “I genuinely can’t believe I have a crush on a vampire. I never even read twilight! You and your dumb beautiful mansion and me and my dumb curiosity- Wait, what?” She stopped herself mid-sentence, running her hand through her wild hair as she stared at him with wide eyes. He was smirking at this point, which only made her blood boil more. “What?” She asked, subconsciously knowing what he said, but logically knowing it couldn’t be true. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to listen,” He teased. “What’d you say?” She asked again, needing confirmation. “Let’s get icecream,” He proposed. “Did you say you liked me?” She inquired, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He was already climbing out of the booth, extending his hand towards her. “Yeah, now c’mon, there’s an icecream parlor like a block away,” He beckoned. She stared at him for a couple of seconds, before biting her lip to keep from smiling. She didn’t take his hand, but she stood from the booth and walked right past him. “Hey!” He called after her, jogging to her as she left the cafe. He caught up with her, walking at her side, “What’s that about?” He asked, sounding annoyed. “You being an asshole,” She explained easily. “That’s not fair! You called me dumb and stupid,” He defended. She tilted her head as a challenge, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I’m dumb and stupid, but it was uncalled for.” He decided on, making her chuckle. “Do you really hate baking?” He asked curiously. She nodded her head, keeping her gaze forwards. “That’s sweet of you,” He mumbled. “You don’t deserve them anymore,” She remarked easily. “Hey! I have to drink to survive,” He defended himself. She glanced at him, “Shirtless?” He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, looking ahead as he frowned. “Ok, maybe-“ She gave him another seering look, which made him shut up rather quickly. Y/N entered the icecream shop, holding the door open for him as they made their way in. “Just ask me… next time,” She said, pausing in the middle of her sentence as she tried to piece together the proper wording. “For what?” He asked, staring at her as she examined the ice cream flavors. “When you’re hungry… or thirsty, whatever it’s called,” She shrugged. “Seriously? I thought you-“ He began, being interrupted as Y/N spoke to the worker. “Can I have two scoops of chocolate?” She asked, ignoring Harry as he just stared at her. The man was quick to get her icecream, handing it to her over the counter as she led Harry to a table. She sat down, spooning some chocolate into her mouth as she stared at him. “I thought you were… against being bit,” He said, watching as she slid the icecream over to his side of the table. He took a spoonful, watching as she shrugged, “I’ve always liked biting,” He choked on his icecream, covering his mouth as he coughed. She erupted into giggles, sliding the icecream over to herself and taking another bite. “Who was she, anyways?” Y/N asked curiously, licking her lips. Harry took the icecream cup from her, frowning. “Just a friend,” He said, nonchalantly. Y/N rose an eyebrow, watching as he ate. “She was pretty,” Y/N remarked, taking the spoon from the bowl of icecream which was now placed in the middle of the table for easy access. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, “Why do you wanna talk about her?” Y/N shrugged, “Just interested,” She was swirling the icecream around now. “No, you’re not,” Harry argued. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Your blood smells sweeter than hers, anyways,” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, looking away from him as she smiled. “What? Thought that was a nice compliment,” He defended, taking a spoonful of ice cream. “You’re just weird,” She shook her head. “Not very nice,” He mumbled, smiling slightly. “Give me some slack. I just saw a girl in your lap like thirty minutes ago,” She said, taking the icecream from him and holding it in her hands. He frowned, “Sorry,” She shrugged, spoon in her mouth, “It’s fine, I’ll just have nightmares for a couple of weeks,” He rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous,” She furrowed her eyebrows, “Think you’d like it if I was in some guy’s lap?” He immediately grimaced, “Alright,” He agreed. “Exactly,” She nodded. He was quiet, and she was aswell, still munching on the icecream as she felt his eyes on her. “So, like…” She began, sliding the icecream over to him, “Are you still hungry? Or thirsty, whatever it is,” “You did interrupt me mid-bite,” He muttered, accepting the icecream cup. She narrowed her eyes at him, “So sorry I interrupted your meal time with my freshly baked cookies and heart drawn bags,” “Fair,” He accepted. “You didn’t answer my question,” She said, not looking at him. It was already taking all of her bravery to ask this, she couldn’t dare look him in the eye at the same time. “I’m still sorta hungry, but you don’t have to worry abou- oh!” He exclaimed, widening his eyes. “Oh? I- Really?” He asked, sounding shocked. “I mean… If you want. I took an iron pill this morning, but…” She said sheepishly. “You took an iron pill?” He asked, smiling. She nodded, “Isn’t that supposed to make your blood strong? I don’t know how it affects taste, but maybe it’ll stop me from passing out in your house,” She explained, rambling slightly. He only smiled at her, “That’s adorable,” She blushed, “It’s whatever, I was just… I mean, looking out for my health,” she said, making no sense. He giggled, “Course you were,” “Ready to go, then?” He asked, already standing from the table, empty ice cream cup in hand. She rose from the table, bumping it awkwardly with her hip and wincing at the contact. He coughed, trying to hide his laugh, which caused her to scowl at him. He only smiled, leading the way as he threw the ice cream away and held the door open for her. “Do I need to prepare? And are you gonna take your shirt off again or was that just for her?” She asked, hearing him snort in response. “Would you like my shirt off?” He asked, grabbing her hand suddenly. She didn’t argue, only flinched slightly at the coldness of his hand. “Your tattoos are cool,” She admitted casually. He chuckled, “I’ll take my shirt off if you take yours off,” She scoffed, “Nice try. I thought vampires were supposed to be chivalrous,” “You’re just saying that because I’m old,” He remarked, leading her across the street. She didn’t say anything, only smiled as she looked around the city. “Your hands are warm,” He mumbled, his thumb tracing over her skin. “That’s because you’re undead,” He huffed, “I thought girls were nice to you when they liked you,” “You’ve been with the wrong girls,” He smiled, looking over at her as her hair flew around in the wind, “Definitely,”

“So, is there a special place we have to go?” Y/N asked curiously, standing in the center of Harry’s living room. He had sat down on the couch, looking at her with wide eyes. “Here’s fine,” He shrugged, she eyed him nervously. He didn’t seem too excited. Had she been pushing him? Or was he just acting cool? “Are you ok with this?” He asked, sounding a bit shaky himself. She frowned, wondering if he was looking for a way out. She glanced around the room, trying to find somewhere to focus on that wasn’t his big green eyes. She decided on the bookcase diagonal to her. “I mean… I’m good with it if you are,” She said, twiddling her thumbs as she tried to not come across as too eager. “Course I’m ok with it,” He said in a teasing tone. She giggled nervously, looking around one more time before she sat down next to him on the couch. “What if… My blood is gross?” She asked randomly, hearing him snort. “Doubt it will be, love,” He remarked, his head tilted to the side to look at her as she looked straight ahead at his mantleplace, wringing her hands in her lap. “Should I-?” She asked, looking towards his lap and then to his eyes, silently asking if that’s where she needed to be. “Oh, no. You’re gonna be dizzy,” He said, quickly moving so that he was straddling her lap. She gasped, pushing herself back into the couch and looking anywhere but at him. Her hands lay weakly at her sides, heart racing a million miles a minute as she felt his thighs on either side of her. “Just breathe. I won’t hurt you,” He comforted her, reaching for her hand. She gave it to him, praying that it wasn’t noticeably shaking as bad as she thought it was. His cold hand and cold ring covered fingers contrasted to her sweaty hands perfectly. He leaned down towards her neck, so close that she could feel his warm breath. She swallowed nervously, finally looking down to see the top of his head, brown curls swirled atop it. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts. Shouldn’t be worse than a shot,” He muttered quietly, looking up at her briefly to see her wide eyes and slightly parted lips. “You sure you’re ok?” He asked once more, thumb caressing the soft skin of her hand. She nodded quickly, staring at him unblinkingly. “You’re breathing really fast, we don’t have to if-“ He began to speak rapidly, grabbing onto her other hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “No, I mean- Do you want to?” She asked, heart rattling in her chest as she worried that he didn’t even want to do this in the first place. He’d already told her yes, but maybe he was having second thoughts. “Well, yeah, but-“ He began, being interrupted again. “Then, yeah, I want to,” She said with a firm nod. He continued to look into her eyes, narrowing his own with uncertainty, “I don’t wanna force you to-“ “Just fucking bite me, Harry,” She sighed, eyes widening to the size of golf balls afterwards. Maybe not the best thing to say. He only chuckled, “Alright, alright,” With that, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, right under her jaw. She tried to even out her breathing and relax, leaning her head against the couch as she closed her eyes instead of staring up at the ceiling with buggish eyes. He continued to gently kiss on her skin, his lips soft and warm from touching her own flesh. She had finally started to relax, actually enjoying the feeling of his lips attached to her neck. So relaxed, that her hands had even stopped shaking and she was breathing evenly. Her relaxation didn’t last long, because before she knew it, she felt a sharp pain right where she had previously felt soft kisses. She gasped, her eyes opening suddenly and her body flinching instinctively. Harry’s hand gave her hand a squeeze in comfort, humming to her slightly. Her body tensed, taking in the odd sensation of his cold teeth and the blood leaving her body. Slowly, she began to feel very floaty, as if she was about to fall asleep. Her head lulled to the side, lips parted as she breathed in and out deeply. Before she had time to notice, her head feeling cloudy, Harry had already pulled away from her neck and placed a warm kiss to her cheek. She opened her eyes slightly, feeling the weight of her eyelids against her eyes. “Wasn’t too bad, right?” He asked, licking some excess blood from his lips. She stared at him dreamily, “S’fine,” She slurred. He smiled down at her, hand reaching up to push some of her hair behind her ear. Y/N continued to look up at him, admiring the stray curl that fell down onto her forehead. “Was my blood good?” She asked droopily. Harry giggled, still playing with strands of her hair. “Very good,” He confirmed, smiling brightly, fangs on full display. The glint of them caught her eye, tilting her head slightly as she stared. “Do they bother you?” She asked curiously, eyeing them with interest. He shook his head, “They’re not sharp,” He explained, “Wanna feel?” She nodded much too quick, already raising her hand and extending it to his open mouth. He giggled, watching as she stared at him with such interest. Her finger gently ran over the sharp tooth, humming with interest. “Cool,” She mumbled lamely, pulling her hand back as he chuckled. Almost as soon as she had retracted her hand, he wrapped his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder as he hugged her. She made a huffing noise, not displeased, just surprised, as she slowly wrapped her arms around him aswell. It was silent for a couple of moments spare their breathing, until Y/N spoke up. “Uh… Whenever you… Need to… Do that… again… Just call me, or whatever,” She said without a single ounce of confidence. She nearly rolled her eyes at herself when she heard her own voice. Despite her lack of sureness, he hummed anyways, placing a kiss to her neck once more before resting his head down again. She bit her lip to keep from smiling, gingerly moving her hand from his back to run her fingers through his curls. Once she did, fingernails gently running against his scalp as she allowed his soft hair to run through her fingers, he sighed contently. He mumbled something against her neck, causing her to hum in inquiry. He turned his head, allowing himself to speak instead of his words being blocked by her skin. “Do you wanna go out?” He asked, causing her to furrow her eyebrows with confusion. “With me?” He added on to clarify. “Like a date?” She asked, a smile already reaching her lips. He nodded against her. She let out a small laugh, “Yeah, of course,” She could feel his smile against her skin. She continued to play with his hair, a smile on her face as she looked up at the ancient ceiling. She couldn’t wait to tell Emma, she’d done way more than get her blood sucked. She was beyond relaxed, finally not feeling so doozy as she just hugged Harry contently and played with his soft curls. Harry had other ideas, jumping from her lap and straightening his sweater once he rose to his feet. She looked at him curiously, staring up at him as he smiled softly. “What are you doing?” She asked curiously, hand going to her neck to feel the wetness of her own blood. She frowned, looking down at her stained finger. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy smiling and running his ring covered hands through his hair. “We’re going on a date, right?” He asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Y/N bit her lip to keep from smiling like a maniac as she stood slowly, “Right now?” She asked. He nodded vigorously, “There’s a great burger place and I think you’ll like their milkshakes. I was just there a couple of days ago and the neon lights remind of you,” He spoke rather fast, her heart swelling dangerously in her chest as she stared at him with what had to be the most sickeningly sweet gaze. She didn’t bother to ask how neon lights possibly made him think of her, only being able to stare at him fondly and smile wide. She was about to take a hold of his arm and have him lead her to the burger place, but she felt a surge of pain in her neck which made her falter. “Can I get a bandaid first?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Harry asked, for possibly the tenth time since they had started walking. She hummed out a yes, not even bothering to say anything like she had the first five times. They’d been walking for only a short amount of time, Harry leading the way and tightly gripping her hand in his. “It’s just… Heart’s beating pretty fast,” He explained, causing her to let out a huff. “That’s not fair,” She muttered with annoyance. “What’s not fair?” He asked curiously, thumb caressing over the skin of her hand gently. “You always know how fast my heart is beating or if I’m nervous and I can never tell with you,” She shrugged, looking down at her feet as Harry smiled softly at her. He giggled, which turned into a more deep laughter which caused her to stare at him curiously. “What?” She asked, looking at him with a confused glance. He settled down rather quickly, a smile still on his lips, “I don’t have a heartbeat, love,” She gasped shortly, eyes widening at her mistake. He only giggled again at her reaction, giving her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know anything about vampires,” She admitted with an ounce of shame. He chuckled, “S’alright, love. I’ll answer any question you got,” He told her comfortingly. She smiled, catching sight of the old timey diner a block away. Harry must have caught her looking, because he piped up, “Nice, isn’t it? Reminds me of the fifties,” He remarked, looking fondly at the place. She hummed in agreement, “Where were you in the fifties?” She asked curiously. “Paris,” He responded easily, tugging her arm to walk faster across the street. “Is it nice there?” She questioned, practically jogging to keep up with him as they approached the diner. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take you sometime,” He said casually, opening the door to the diner. She almost laughed, but when she looked over at him with a smile, he looked completely serious. “Would like that,” She said, trying to act as serious as he was but finding the proposition difficult. “Harry!” A voice called out, which caused both of their heads to turn towards it’s direction. Harry, who had smiled brightly and seemed to be familiar with the tone was a stark opposite from Y/N, who had widened her eyes in surprise. “Oh, you’ve brought a girl!” An older lady was revealed from behind the counter, sporting a poofy and very on-brand 50s skirt. “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her, since Y/N was staring curiously at the woman. She gave her a kind smile and a small wave as the woman positively beamed back. “I’m Edith. Harry never brings girls back! He’s such a handsome boy I was starting to get worried,” Edith remarked, which made Y/N giggle. Harry seemed unbothered, only focusing on pulling Y/N to sit next to him on the same side of the booth. Y/N gave him an odd look, never having been a girl to share the same side of a booth with a date. He looked very pleased to have her right next to him, instantly throwing an arm over her shoulders as he stared fondly over at Edith. She wondered if it was just for show, but the way his fingers played with the ends of her hair she had an inkling of a feeling that it may just have been him wanting to be close to her, which made her heart swell. “No need to be worried,” Harry said easily, a strand of Y/N’s hair wrapped around his finger. She giggled, turning to smile at him as she leaned into his side. Edith smiled at the both of them sweetly, “I can see that,” She proceeded to pull out two menus, handing them to Y/N and Harry, smiling kindly as she listed off some specials and then left them to decide on their meals. Y/N reached for her menu, opening it and perusing it curiously. Harry, who had left his menu on the table, was looking at Y/N’s instead, leaning in closer to her. She smiled, trying to ignore his presence and the scent of his cologne as she focused on what item she should get. “Should I get breakfast? Or a burger?” She asked, glancing at Harry to see he was already staring at her. “What?” She asked, her cheeks already turning a light shade of pink. “Just really pretty,” He complimented honestly, not taking his eyes off of her. She blushed deeply, looking back at the menu. “Think I’m gonna get a burger,” She said, ignoring his compliment, but keeping a smug smile on her face. “Gotta try the milkshake,” He added, pointing to the pictures of them on the menu. She nodded, “What are you gonna get?” “Same thing I always get, a burger and some fries,” He answered easily. “Do you come here a lot?” She asked with interest, setting the menu down as she turned to look at him. “S’my spot,” He said fondly, looking around the restaurant. She smiled, honored that he’d take her here. “Why’d you bring me here?” She asked, not being able to help herself as she shamelessly stared at him since he was doing so to her earlier. “Told you, it reminds me of you,” He said, repeating himself from earlier. She had in fact remembered, she was just painfully nosy. She just stared at him, waiting for him to explain. He gave her a smirk, “S’warm and smells nice. Just like you,” She blushed, looking down at her clasped hands on the table. “Tastes good too,” He added, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck, kissing over the bandaid which covered her bite mark. She gasped, playfully shoving him away as he only attached himself more by wrapping his arms around her possessively. She giggled, letting him hug her and place kisses on her cheeks and neck. Edith, who was smiling as bright as the sun, walked up the table, which only made Y/N blush and try and push Harry away. He kept his arms around her anyway, only looking up at Edith with a boyish grin. Y/N couldn’t meet her eyes, instead putting her hand over Harry’s hand which was on her waist. She played with the cold rings on his cold fingers and listened to him order for the both of them. Edith didn’t seem to mind or think she was rude, which Y/N was afraid of, instead only glancing at the girl and smiling just as bright as she had Harry. “You’re a shy little thing,” Harry remarked almost as soon as Edith had turned away. Y/N blushed yet again, twisting a rose decorated ring on his finger, “And you’re touchy,” She remarked, just as he had placed another kiss to her pink cheek. He scoffed, “You’re playing with my fingers,” He observed. She shrugged, glancing at his eyes, “Want me to stop?” He shook his head immediately, looking down at where she continued to twist and caress the rings decorating his thin fingers. “Where’d you get this one from?” She asked curiously, tips of her fingers running over the intricate detailing of the rose ring. “1700s Italy,” He responded easily, making her hum with interest. “Very pretty,” She complimented, giving it one last twist on his finger before moving to the next ring. “You’re very pretty,” He fired back, causing her to bite her lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Stop,” She mumbled, giving his finger a tug as punishment. He only smirked, staring down at her fondly, “So pretty, could kiss you all over,” Y/N gasped, ceasing her petting of his fingers to give him a stern look. He only smiled, thinking how she looked very much like a disgruntled kitten with her nose all scrunched up. “Would you let me kiss you?” He asked, sounding curious as she took a quick look around the diner. It was empty, save for an old couple on the opposite end of the room and Edith was nowhere to be seen. Y/N shrugged, “Suppose,” Harry smiled brightly, moving one of his hands so it could cradle the back of her head. She was already blushing so hard it felt like her cheeks were on fire, but the heat in her face was forgotten once Harry led her lips to his. She had gasped, her grip on his hand tightening as she felt him smirk through the kiss. His lips were soft, a bit cold, but nice overall, and when he pulled away she was tempted to ask for another. “Taste like bubblegum,” He remarked, licking his pink lips as she stared at him, entranced. “That’s my toothpaste,” She said, making him giggle. She licked her own lips, watching as his eyes watched her. “You taste like metal,” She told him. He smirked, “That’s your blood,” She scrunched up her nose, sticking her tongue out briefly in disgust. He laughed loudly, pressing a kiss to her temple as he pulled her more firmly into his side. “Haven’t been on a date in nearly fifty years,” He muttered casually, making her gasp. “Fifty years?” She asked, hushing her voice but still letting the shock float into her tone. “No need t’ make fun of me for it,” He said, sounding somewhat teasing but not enough for her to not feel guilty. “Sorry…” She muttered, “Just not used to you saying stuff like that since you look my age,” He didn’t seem to mind, or at least didn’t say anything as he changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He trailed off, causing her mind to wander to millions of possibilities, each one making her more nervous than the last. She just looked at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to continue. “Have you always been into older men?” He snorted at his own joke, while she rolled her eyes, holding in her own smile as he positively snickered at his humor. “You’re an idiot,” She told him firmly, feeling him press a kiss to her cheek. “And your lips are cold,” She added, giving him a playful shove. “Gotta warm ‘em up then, love,” He told her, puckering his lips as she turned to smile at him. She stared at him fondly, taking in his curled hair and pale cheeks along with his pink, puckered lips and closed eyes. He really was a weird vampire. But, he was her vampire and she certainly didn’t mind it.

#harry styles #harry #one direction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #vampire #vamp!harry #vamp!au #writing #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #harry styles oneshot #one direction one shot #hslot

[musingsofamiddleagedmillennial]

#NeverTheRightTime

Please, if the first thing that came to your mid was that Chris Brown song, exit this blog and stay exited. Lol.

Anyway, have you ever just observed how the universe is so perfectly misaligned sometimes? Like when it sends two people on the “same” collision of paths? But they’re really just meant to learn completely different lessons from each other.

So recently I was at the club, random dude invited me and my friends to his place. Clubs were closing early that weekend so we were like, “fvck it. Yolo.” (I exaggerate; we did a background check on this guy and my family friend knew him from before, plus she was even attending this impromptu party. This basically gave us the green light that he wasn’t necessarily a serial killer so we could go). Anyway, guy seems somewhat interested, meet up with him a couple of times after and now he’s telling me how he’s looking for a relationship. So I’m just here like,, “Woww heavens, in my insecure years of uni I might’ve been excited at this prospect (P.S he’s loaded af) but now, I’m just ready for my hoe years (and for anyone about to come for me, all these dudes had the time of their lives in their hoe years and are now worn out, soo toot back to your hole). So, akin to Simon Cowell, it was a No from me. #NorAgrets

 Ohh, I guess you’re wondering what lessons we were supposed to learn from each other?

He taught me:

1.     I thought I had the “money eyes” but just hadn’t met a rich enough guy. Turns out no. So still figuring this out

2.    Dudes really think having money is a personality trait and therefore don’t have to work on the rest of themselves. Meanwhile they’re dusty, crusty and boring af

3.    I really haven’t met a good kisser in this city of ours lol

4.    What I thought I wanted, is really not what I wanted. It was the safe option. This guy stirs up some adventurous side of me, which is funny coz he’s now currently trying to “settle down” and not be too wild

5.    The universe is constantly misaligned. Stop trying to align it and pick the lessons and go (PS: I say this from a professional perspective)

Lessons he (should have) learnt from me:

1.     Not all women are after your money. He’s never expressed this sentiment, but I guess it can be a message to other male readers – Seriously, there’s no amount he could throw at me that would make me consider my stance. Funny. Guys are always convinced all women are after their money, so they focus on the money and think the women will come along with it. Which, to a large extent it is, but the universe has a funny way of making you fall for the person you can’t easily get.

2.    The modern liberated woman is not constrained by age and time, and will not bow to pressure coz she’s getting ‘older’. Sorry dudes, if you still believe this rubbish, you’ve either not met actual modern women or you yourself is a bit too fvcking old fashioned.

3.    The universe is constantly misaligned. Stop trying to align it and pick the lessons and go (P.S: This is from a romantic perspective)

4.   Fill in whatever other lesson you’ve deduced from this story

 Until next time

M

#femme #feminist

[the-light-of-stars]

Headcanon

Since the ES group confirmedly goes to Hartfeld, too, they might know the The Freshman gang. Now imagine that they all survive la Huerta and meet them when Uni starts again... The Freshman gang would probably tell them how great their road trip was and what a great adventure! And how they heroically 'survived' being stranded on a dusty road in California ... and the ES gang would just share a knowing look...

#Endless Summer #the freshman #choices stories you play #headcanon #hartfeld

[kellykadesperate]

oh and i wouldn’t miss a thing:

Robert’s forgot the milk, he realises it as soon as he slams the door shut and his eyes fall on Annie’s bottles on the side. It makes him wince and then Aaron’s coming towards him, Jacob on his hip looking half asleep as he has his head buried deep in his dad’s shoulder.

Robert’s eyes flicker softly and then Aaron’s looking at him as if he’s mad or something for staring at them. Aaron still doesn’t know how this makes him feel, coming home to them every day.

Maybe he’ll never know, Robert’s okay with that.

“Forgot the milk?” Aaron’s asking, all light and soft as he has a hand running through Jacob’s curly locks. “Isn’t daddy giant a silly billy.” He whispers down to Jacob who is still wriggling about.

Robert steps forward, pouts a little. “Don’t teach him that, he’ll get ideas.” He says, presses a kiss to Aaron’s head and then gently strokes Jacob’s cheek. It manages to coax him away from Aaron and into his arms instead.

“Silly billy daddy.” Jacob gurgles, has mastered the art of swiftly taking out his dummy and pushing it back in again before either of his dads can make a grab for it in time. He knows he’s too old for it now, but that’s a battle Robert keeps telling Aaron they’ll win another day.

Robert playfully raises an eyebrow and Aaron’s laughing, knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help it when he thinks about how cheeky Jacob is becoming. Chas keeps saying it’s because of him because apparently Robert was soft at that age, Aaron can believe it though. Whenever Jacob isn’t running around like a mad man, he has a book out in front of him and he’s soft and sweet and he’s how Robert was. That always tugs at Aaron’s heart.

Robert looks at Aaron and notices something strained in his expression, like he’s worried about something.

He takes a guess. “Liv not back yet?” He asks, smiles a little at Jacob’s reaction to her name. He’s besotted with her and all her wild adventure stories which almost always keep him up at night planning trips back in time to when ‘dinosaurs and dragons roamed the village.’

Aaron gulps, starts doing what he does when he’s nervous (which has somehow become furiously washing plates) and then sighs. “Look I know she’s practically an adult now but she’s with Gabby isn’t she? There’s bound to be trouble.” He bites down on his lip and then dries his hands.

“If there is, we’ll know about it soon enough.” Robert says, tries to keep up with his whole relaxing over Liv now that she is at her first year in Uni. “Anyway, you’ve got this little rascal to keep ya occupied.” He reaches down and grabs Jacob causing their little one to squeal before batting Robert’s large hands away.

There’s a gurgle coming from the baby monitor and Aaron raises an eyebrow at his husband, and his son who now has his hand over his mouth and looks actually guilty about waking up his little sister. “Look what you’ve done now trouble? Sleeping beauty is awake.” Aaron teases before shaking his head and coming towards the stairs.

Jacob’s bouncing around like he usually does whenever anyone talks about Annie in front of him. His little miracle baby sister who was too early, too small to hold for a long time. He’s big enough now to climb the stairs himself, hands down like paws when he gets to the top just because he enjoys sliding around the landing and watching Robert recoil in horror at the state of his floor as he starts rolling cars along it with a grin on his little face.

Robert grabs Jacob’s hand as they approach Annie’s room and softly open the door wide enough for them to come through. The walls are lilac, soft and almost sparkling after Aaron attempted to by the cheap glitter shit that Robert did not approve of. But who cared? Jacob was in awe of the idea that tiny little stars were trapped in the walls and Liv was game too.

Annie’s got a blanket thrown over her little body, she’s better now, bigger too. But they still count days, it’s hard but Aaron can’t seem to grow out of the habit and Robert doesn’t seem in a hurry to let him. She’s got Robert’s hair, it’s all dusty and blonde and has streaks of brown running through it. She’s nearly a year old, presents already starting to pile up at the scrapyard because Jacob’s too nosy for his own good so they can’t be kept anywhere near where his little hands can reach.

“Hello darling.” Aaron’s voice is soft, gentle and slow as he rubs a hand over Annie’s stomach and presses his finger down on the button which begins the magical illumination of the room and starts the low hum of a nursery rhyme playing. “Daddy’s home.” He whispers, bends down and then feels Robert do the same, a finger circling her little stomach.

Robert’s in awe of her. The way her eyes are big and alive, green just like his but with a ring of blue to match Jacob’s. She has his freckles too, their faint but when the sun is shinning they clutter her cheeks and Aaron’s heart skips a beat.

Jacob’s coming closer and on instinct Aaron turns around and picks him up so that he doesn’t stick his head through the wooden bars and get stuck for hours again until Paddy can successfully prize him out. “Annie! Annie! Hi Annie, daddy giant is here look!” His hands pulls Robert’s face towards his own and he kisses him almost excitedly on the forehead making Aaron laugh.

Robert smiles warmly at his son, the boy who always made his Aaron laugh. He would always be grateful for that and it sounded mad but he would because for a long time he was scared about what having children would do to them. It tore couples apart didn’t it? Robert knew that all too well. So he was scared their own children would be too much for them, overwhelming, cause Aaron grief and make him feel bad but -

Aaron’s smiled everyday because of their little boy, and now because of their little girl too.

“Don’t get her as excited as you now baby.” Aaron whispers lovingly, attempting to pull Jacob down from him as Annie starts trying to clap her hands together. Robert looks at Jacob, grinning and doing that crazy thing with his eyes where he rolls them so far back you can only see the whites, and Robert knows instantly.

“You gave him chocolate before dinner or something like that didn’t you?” Robert whispers, shaking his head as Aaron exchanges a guilty look with his own son and then looks at Robert.

“He just looks at me with those little blue eyes and I melt.” Aaron presses Jacob’s face towards his own and kisses at his son’s cheek before letting him slide down and settle himself down on Annie’s play mat.

Robert’s eyes flutter and there’s this familiar tug at his heart. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” He whispers and Aaron’s rolling his eyes and coming closer towards him. They’re inches apart and Aaron finds his stomach almost swirling with something passionate as Robert places a hand on his face.

“Annie, daddy and daddy are kissing!” Jacob’s got into the habit of both telling tales and screaming at the top of his lungs whenever it’s the least bit appropriate to do so.

Robert’s eyes widen and he shakes his head before bending down and looking Jacob. “What did we say about being shouty?” He says, looks out the window and up at the sky.

Jacob huffs out a little sigh and pulls a hand through his curly hair. “The moon doesn’t like when I’m shouty.” He relents after a few seconds because his love for astronomy is the best way to get him to behave apparently.

There’s the sound of the door clicking open and Jacob has to pull a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming out Liv’s name as she comes through the door with a finger over her lips.

Robert shoots Aaron a look when she smiles at them both, does something she rarely does nowadays considering she’s bogged down with work and Gabby and whatever they are up to nowadays. She’s wearing all black, a top a little too cropped and a tight pair of black jeans. Her hair is down for once and she’s got the whole winged eyeliner thing going on.

Robert would compliment her but he’s not stupid.

“Alright daddies?” Liv laughs breathlessly and quickly Robert realises that she’s very much tipsy too.

Jacob clambers up her like usual and she tells him she was chilling with the dinosaurs for a while and Robert undoes his tie as he listens.

“Did the dino’s have any special drinks there?” He’s asking, arching an eyebrow and seeing Liv become self conscious and awkward.

Aaron’s breath is steady as he leans down and kisses Annie’s head. “As long as you were safe and you’re not sick in your room then it’s fine.” He tries to say, but then he’s looking up and she’s just a little girl to him and he feels old and weird about it but she cannot grow up. He keeps thinking about looking at Annie like that one day and suddenly he’s picking her up out of the cot she holding her close to him. “You’re all grown up now, ya weirdo.” He tries to be cool about it but then she’s sloppily coming closer and kissing his cheek and then disappearing again.

It’s nearly half eleven and Jacob’s still rolling around on the floor like a mad man, singing to himself and playing with his hands whilst Robert holds Annie close to him and rocks her a little as she makes moaning sounds. “I know baby, I know.” He tries, kisses her head softly and remembers how it felt to hold her in his arms after all those scary months. It had nearly broke him, and Aaron, and their family but it hadn’t, they’d grown stronger and kinder with each other in the end.

“Jacob Patrick Sugden-Dingle, would you like me and daddy fluffy to call nanny Chas and tell her to come and get you into bed because you’re still a baby?” Robert asks, knows exactly what to say to make his son horrified at the thought of his words.

Jacob’s only four but he is well aware of what that means. Nanny Chas thinks kissing him a thousand times before finally letting him sleep is the way to go about bed time and it always makes Jacob moan. That’s why his little body is moving towards his own room and then he’s running back and Robert’s kneeling so that Jacob can give Annie a kiss good night.

It makes something almost burst with happiness inside Robert’s body and he feels alive. He feels like his life has this meaning to it now that it never did before, because he has Annie and he has Jacob and he has Liv and Aaron and it’s all his.

“We’ll check on you in a sec okay bud?” Aaron let’s Jacob know with a smile.

“Love you buddy.” Robert says to him, all overcome with emotion for a reason he doesn’t even know. “To the moon and the stars and -

”All the way back.“ Jacob practically sings, twirling himself around and making Aaron laugh again before he’s running to his room.

Aaron wipes at his eyes, clears his throat and then he’s watching Robert place a sleepy Annie back down in her cot and start to stroke her forehead lovingly.

"Wonder what she’s dreaming out.” Robert mumbles a few minutes later, has a hand outstretched over Aaron’s waist and his head in Aaron’s shoulder for support.

Aaron looks down at their little girl and watches her almost smile in her content sleep, the blanket Diane knitted for her is tucked to her body tightly and it makes him smile. “You. Her brilliant daddy.” He has a hand on Robert’s back and means it because it’s been on his husband’s mind recently, thoughts about her being premature and poorly and it somehow being down to him.

Robert blushed softly and then smiles. “And you, you’re the brilliant one, you always have been ya know.” He blinks quickly and then feels Aaron kissing at his neck and a tingle races through him without warning.

It doesn’t last though because Jacob’s dropped his night light and Liv’s laughing her head off and they’ve got to clear it up.

They put Jacob to bed, kiss him lovingly and tickle him with his monkey before they see him come down from his sugar rush and slowly drift off to sleep.

Robert smiles down at him, thinks himself lucky as he lays in bed and feels Aaron come closer to him. All smiles, showing teeth and all sorts.

“Hello.” Aaron whispers, has moved so that he’s practically laying on top of his husband and resting his chin on Robert’s chest.

It dawns on Robert quickly that they hadn’t even given each other a proper greeting when he came home. It means something, it means that they’re a proper family he thinks because long gone are the days where he’d only have to shut the door and undo his tie and Aaron was climbing the stairs with glee already.

This is a new normal, a welcomed one.

“Hello.” Robert whispers back before kissing Aaron softly and then more hungrily before actually yawning in between their embrace.

“Ah,” Aaron pulls back and playfully hits Robert’s arm. “Sugden, are you getting old and boring on me?” He teases and then suddenly Robert’s gripping him hard and pressing down on the mattress sending a thrill through his husband’s body as they kiss and tug and -

Jacob’s running through the door and there’s only enough time to explain that sometimes daddy and daddy play fight and it’s fun. The whole trying to take off each other’s clothes in the process thpugh is going to have to wait until morning.

#some well needed fluff #:) #robron fics #my work #sorry but just the thought of aaron holding his son by his waist is making me weak soi had to write this

[robotslenderman]

Tfw your lecturer says something was discovered 30 years ago, so you’re like “does she mean 1970-30-years-ago, or 1990-30-years-ago?”

It was discovered in 1962.

You fool. That’s almost 40 years ago in 1970-30-years-ago time!

#Dusty’s uni adventures

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Stuck

Don’t go into the Outback unprepared. That’s the lesson here. You’ll end up as stuck and lost as me.

After my husband of ten years left me for a younger woman, I was in dire need of a change of scenery. We had got married right when I was twenty-one, but we never got around to having kids because he wasn’t ready, as he put it. I guess being ready had nothing to do with him accidentally impregnating his mistress and then having to do “the right thing”, according to him. Leaving his wife, who had helped him build his business, did his administrative work for free, kept his house clean and his belly full was obviously the right thing to do. It certainly didn’t feel right to me. In fact, it felt very wrong. Suddenly, everything I believed in made no sense, the relationship I had devoted my life to was over, and there was only emptiness where my joy had been.

Not knowing what to do and where to go, I crashed on my friend Beth’s couch for a while – I certainly didn’t want to live in my “happy” home any more. What was I supposed to do next? Put my business degree to good use and try to find a job after more than a decade. I had never officially worked for my husband. It was easier this way. How silly would it be to split the money he made to pay his own wife. We would just get taxed twice. That was the logic. I never much thought about it. We were one unit, his money was mine, it made enough sense.

So I was stranded on a friend’s couch, unsuccessfully trying to find a job, getting more and more depressed every day. I was lacking spirit, as Beth put it. Spirit, where would I find that? Then it dawned on me. I had to leave to come back home eventually, I had to get lost out there to find myself again. I needed to go on a spirit walk.

The little money I had from my uni days, I had invested well, so that I had enough to do something a little reckless, a little crazy, and a lot of fun as it seemed. Even just the idea of a spirit walk lifted my spirit, and I set out to do just that. My online research led me to believe that you shouldn’t really plan your spirit walk but go where the journey takes you. With my limited resources, I couldn’t go all that far, but seeking adventure and a certain degree of seclusion, I didn’t actually have to go far. The Australian outback had always fascinated me, and now I would finally get to experience it. As a Kiwi, a New Zealander, I had been to Australia several times, visiting friends in Melbourne, Sidney, Brisbane, travelling up and down the east coast, even checking out the lush beauty of Tasmania on a three week trip once, but I had never really ventured into the hinterland. But now I would cast all my fear of the wilds aside and experience their beauty on my own.

So I told my family and the few people I still considered my friends about my trip and about the fact that I wouldn’t be able to stay in regular contact because of the obvious reception issues of the areas I was about to go explore. Some were happy for me, some were a little anxious about my solo trip, and some thought I was crazy. Either way, I was eager to go.

As soon as I had reached my destination, which was Adelaide, I got myself a rental car and drove off towards Port Augusta, from where Stuart Highway, or The Track, as it is locally called, would lead me through the red heart of the country all the way up to Darwin in the very north. The searing hot centre of the country seemed to promise the inner cleansing I was seeking. I spent several weeks of adventure and a growing fascination with the country while backpacking where possible. Otherwise, I spent the occasional night sleeping in my car until I reached a town called Katherine.

After a night of much needed sleep and a day of exploring the pretty little town, I spent the evening in a local pub where I heard both locals and tourists talk about the beauty of a region called the Kimberley at the very northern tip of Western Australia. The scenery they described spontaneously made me turn my car left towards that stretch of land as I continued my quest the next morning. I soon reached the area where the Northern Territories meet Western Australia, and I immediately understood the people’s infatuation with the region. Dusty and red earth met lush green thickets. Emerald rivers that made you want to stroll along them aimlessly, which is exactly what I did. I parked my car somewhere off the road near a local creek, grabbed my backpack, and started walking.

The sun dancing on the water had an almost hypnotising effect on me, so that I soon felt both light-hearted as well as light-headed. I still don’t know how it happened, but while I was walking along the river, I suddenly heard a sucking noise and was knee-deep in muddy sand. I had read about the occasional occurrence of quicksand around rivers and on beaches, but it still came as a complete surprise. I tried to get my calves out, but by putting more weight on my feet, I only sank in deeper. The sandy, wet mass was now already up to my mid-thighs.

That’s where I started panicking a bit. My heartbeat got rather fast and my breath even faster. I forced myself to breathe slowly, holding my breath for a few seconds in between every breath cycle. I had heard somewhere that I was supposed to pull my legs up and slowly pull myself up and out in a forward fashion. I tried my best, but the quicksand was already up to my hips, which made moving my lower body almost impossible.

Even though I was quite sure that there was no use to it, I took my backpack from my shoulders and put it on backwards, so that it covered my belly. I took out my phone and checked. No reception. Figures. I also found a bottle of water in there, and decided to have a few sips, no need to get dehydrated while being stuck. I tried lifting my legs again, but still couldn’t really move them at all. At least I didn’t seem to sink any deeper.

So I did what everyone would do in this situation: I cried for help. It did not have the intended effect. In fact, it seemed to have quite the opposite effect because I heard a slight splashing right behind me. Not like someone or something hitting the water’s surface but rather like something gliding into the river with as little noise as possible. I told myself to stay calm. I assured myself that it was nothing even though Northern Australia plus coastal rivers equalled crocodiles in my head. “Beware the salties” is what the locals had jokingly said to me before I had left to explore this beautiful natural wonder of lush yet rugged shrubbery and deep green rivers. It didn’t seem funny at all any more.

To see what was going on in the river behind me, I tried to turn around as best as I could, but with my restricted movement, I couldn’t see all that far back. There were ripples in the water and they slowly came closer. As I was desperately trying to free myself from my wet prison, my thoughts went to my messed-up life, and I found that it wasn’t all that messed up after all, or at least it was mendable somehow. I would find a way to make thing right, if I only got a shot. Just please, please, don’t let me get eaten by a crocodile.

Well, I got my wish. The ripples disappeared. Whatever had produced them decided to dive off into another direction. Which was of course a great relief, except that I was still stuck. While I was trying to free myself yet again, the sun was very slowly creeping towards the horizon. But not before it left me feeling parched and drowsy, and worst of all, out of water. The bottle was empty before I realised it. My head started hurting, and I started losing time. I don’t know whether I was actually unconscious for a while or if I just didn’t realise how the day slowly crept on, but suddenly the sun was setting behind the bushes and the dust-coloured hills.

As the twilight approached, I felt a little better and found it in me to cry for help once more, ignoring the fear of many-toothed reptile jaws mauling me to death. The only effect was a flock of birds flying off. Then it dawned of me that I might have to spend the night stuck in a hole in the ground and that tomorrow would be another day with the sun beating down on me relentlessly in this late Australian summer. Would I die of heat stroke or of thirst first? Oh my god, I had to get out of here. I leaned forward as best as I could and pulled my legs up backwards. My hands clawed through soggy mud and it felt like I was moving forward towards hopefully dry ground little by little.

Then I suddenly saw it. A ghostly light slowly approaching from the right. I yelled so they could find me, but I got no answer. Yet the light came ever closer, as if its bearer knew exactly where to go. I got an ominous feeling in my stomach and decided that it was wiser not to shout any more. I’d rather take my chances freeing myself, which was slowly working as it seemed, than being freed by whoever was coming closer. And closer they were coming.

The light was now shining through the branches of the bushes next me, and what came closer looked almost like a hooded old figure holding a wicker lantern in his hand. He seemed to be holding a ball of tiny branches with an impossible pale light shining in its centre, and his eyes reflected that ghostly light.

He burst through the branches and shone his lantern straight at me. Squinting, I saw a massive black hound sitting next to his feet, baring his fangs at me. They also reflected the ghostly lamp’s light.

“Need help with thy fate? I can help you pass over and cope. Guiding lost souls is my speciality,” the apparition said with a creepy smile and a croaking voice.

“Stay away from me, you fiend. I’m not done with this life yet. Scram, old man.”

“Hey, now. First of all, I’m not that old. And also, you must have misunderstood me there. Are you okay? You must have heatstroke or something. Just to make myself clear, I offered you my help to pull you out of that hole you’re stuck in.”

And with that the old man turned into a ruggedly handsome Aussie guy in his thirties, holding an electric lantern, with a blue heeler sitting loyally at his ankles. I sighed with relief and said, “I must have been hallucinating. What did you say when you offered your assistance?

“I said something like: need help with this, mate? I can use the Rover’s leash as a rope. Finding lost folks is our speciality.” With a shy smile, he added, “the last part was just me trying to impress the pretty lady.”

“Ha, I don’t feel very pretty right now. Mostly, I feel like I might be losing my mind. You’re either a handsome, athletic outdoorsman with a faithful dog or the grim reaper who offered me assistance in passing over while a scary black dog was staring into my soul.”

“I don’t know about the handsome part, but I am here to help get out of this hole and back on your feet. I’ll even throw in a shower, a hearty meal, and a spot on my couch for the night if you need it.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a sheltered and safe place to rest my weary head. I’ve had enough of being stuck for a lifetime.”

“Then grab this leash and after that my hand.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

So I made my way out of this mess and into what I was supposed to find at the end of my spirit walk. No need to roam about any more, I found my way back home to myself. I was finally ready to mend my life.

—Submitted by Lone-Eyed

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #my writing #outback #Australia #Kiwi #New Zealander #desert #straya #crocodile #saltie #isolation #spirit walk #stuck #new start #cheated on #cheating #helplessness #river #fear #dehydration #thirst #quicksand

[awishandaflare]

Both my oldest book, and the oldest book I own. Since I had to sell all my old books that got dusty, this little fella is the oldest one I have, from my first year of uni. Also the oldest... because... you know.. written c.800 b.c.e. ... kinds old. . . Also showing off my Skyrim obsession and the amazing talent of my brother with my Whiterun shield. And some of my arrows. Long story, but I used to be an adventurer like you... until I took an arrow to the knee... . . #sammyreadsjanuary17 stand alone books . #feministjanuary17 yellow ombre. Don't have enough yellow for an ombre 😂 so... kinda failed... . #historicalteatime oldest book (so late on this 😂) . #hootlootpairing house pride? Well... how about Hold pride? Whiterun represeeeeent! 🐎 but also will do Ravenclaw layer 😙 . #bookstagram #books #theodyssey #homersodyssey #whiterun #bookandshield #shield #bibliophile #booklover #bookphoto #oldestbook #epicpoetry #classicalstudies #classicsnerd #odysseusisawesome #readit #reading

#epicpoetry #homersodyssey #bookandshield #shield #reading #historicalteatime #feministjanuary17 #hootlootpairing #whiterun #booklover #bookphoto #books #readit #theodyssey #bibliophile #odysseusisawesome #sammyreadsjanuary17 #oldestbook #bookstagram #classicsnerd #classicalstudies

[aronlikeyou]

feelings dump

m3ndeesh 7aga 2a2olha 3′air eni te3ebt

waking up gets harder everyday , i live in a vicious loop of nothingness , i miss the utter randomness of the world controlling my day not expecting whats the next move, these limits set to what my day looks like are suffocating the shit out of me, i can’t even leave my house because i physically can’t 

im FUCKING SICK OF THIS CHAPTER OF MY LIFE

SICK OF SCHOOL

SICK OF THIS FUCKING CITY

SICK OF THIS COUNTRY

this is the longest i’ve ever gone without traveling or going back home

i miss my bestfriend like crazy, i actually pause in the middle of my day and think holy shit i miss naz so much, i miss her to the point my heart aches 

i used to blame everything on someone and after they left im left with nobody to blame but myself , and that was exactly what i was trying to avoid 

i can’t say im the master of my day when i literally have to work with what i’ve got, i dont exactly have much to start with yet i still have to make the best out of it, what if i cant? why am i supposed to settle for less? i want nothing less than the entire world, i want to the universe to be MY BITCH , i want to be the master of my own destiny not a 23 year old girl stuck in Egypt in a 7 year uni gasping for a breathe of fresh air when literally all im taking in is this fucking dusty ass air, i fucking hate it dawg this shit weighs heavy on my soul to the point i literally cant fucking function

i self medicate and the side effects fuck me up and i know im wrong but whats wrong of wanting to numb yourself so much to skip yours days? 

i want this year to be over, i miss my friends , i miss traveling , i miss adventures and randomness , i miss stories in the making 

this whole staying at home shit did nothing but concentrate all my problems in a time frame and an environment where i have to deal with everything i would distract myself to not bother facing, this is the later in “i’ll deal with it later” , this petridish of my fuckedup problems is the later and i just want to pass this later onto another later and call it a later day 

anyways , if you’re reading this after i die or something know that i had energy for the world but things didnt work out to my favor still, and if future nora is reading this , i know you have different problems now because you know that problems never end, i just hope you found a reason to be happy in the midst of it all, and im also kinda fucking curious who the fuck will you end up with, if that person is reading this (if you’ve found my tumblr and you’re stalking me, good job its kinda plausible but you’re thinning your chances of getting with me jusss saying, get the fuck out of here freak) with you too then hello stranger!! can’t wait to meet you and give you loads of cuddles , ew nora you’re gross with that feelings shit 

2020 SUXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

i would also really like to pass 5th year of medschool im on month 11 out of 15 yes this year is 15 months long, fml i just want everything to be OVER 

anyways again, here’s a joke, what kinda bees produces milk?

beeewwwbeeeessss hahahahahaha im a 5 year old

if you’ve read this and reached this far omg pls dont bring it in person im awkward and this is my fantasy online diary speaking to oblivion its nothing too serious hahahahahahha ok bye fr fr fr fr frrrrr

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 43: Enchanted Island (1979)

Sorry Greg, it only required a fraction of my cunning.

Okay, so I screwed up.  Remember a few posts ago, when I said that I had the order of the Greg Hassett games screwed up?  And that my next game would not be Enchanted Island but would instead be Sorcerer’s Castle Adventure?  Well, I forgot to change my notes, so I ended up playing Enchanted Island anyway.  This is my completely nocturnal quarantine brain in action.

Enchanted Island is technically the sixth of Hassett’s text adventures, and it’s the fifth one that I’m playing for the blog.  They didn’t start out all that great with Journey to the Center of the Earth Adventure, but his later efforts like Voyage to Atlantis have shown signs of improvement.  All of them have scored pretty low on the RADNESS Index though, which makes me question why I have such an inordinate amount of fondness for Greg Hassett.  The fact that he’s about thirteen years old around this time certainly has something to do with it.  But the more I think about it, the more I realise that he’s pretty much exactly what I wanted to be when I was that age.

I went to uni to study IT (an ill-fated decision) with the intention of getting into the games industry.  I wanted to make games!  Unfortunately, I didn’t want to make games in the system that was around in the late 90s and early 2000s: I wanted to be a solo creator, or part of a small team, not one cog in a huge machine.  So I dropped out, bummed around, and eventually picked up a job in a library archive.  The sad thing is, I could have had what I wanted in the 80s and maybe the early 90s.  I could have had what I wanted from about 2010 onwards.  I just happened to reach adulthood around the time where doing that was pretty much impossible.  (Eh, who am I kidding anyway, I never would have had the drive to be a success at it.  I just slept from 10am to 1am.)

What does my sad life story have to do with Enchanted Island, you ask?  Well, uhhhh, they’re both set in Australia?  (That was a segue, folks. I didn’t spend three years studying professional writing for nothing.)

So, Enchanted Island.  Like Hassett’s other games, it was originally released through Mad Hatter Software for the TRS-80.  There was a later port for the Apple II, but I couldn’t find it, so I’m playing the TRS-80 version.  If this post at Gaming After 40 is anything to go by, the version I found is a revised one that was written in assembly language rather than BASIC.  I’m not entirely happy with that, but I couldn’t find anything else so this is what I had to work with.  (I did find something that I think approximates the original version, but more on that in Ports of Call below.)

As I mentioned above, Enchanted Island is set in Australia, or more accurately speaking, on an island off the Australian coast.  That’s what the opening of the game says, anyway.  The description on the packaging says that it’s set on an island in middle of the Pacific Ocean, which isn’t quite the same.  For all that it matters, I’ll go with what the game says.  The goal of Enchanted Island (surprise, surprise) is to scour the island for treasure.  It’s a beacon of familiarity in these uncertain times.

Crikey mick, I’m on a flamin’ island!

The game begins with the player standing on a beach.  There’s a sign that tells you that dropping any treasure found here will increase your score.  I do appreciate a game that does this outright, rather than making me figure out where to drop things on my own.  Checking my inventory I discovered that I was carrying nothing, and typing SCORE I learned that I needed to earn 140 points.

There’s also a warning not to go south, so of course that was the first thing I tried.  I ended up in the ocean, where I drowned.  (Wouldn’t you think I’d turn back when it got to chin height or something?)

After a restart I headed north along the beach, and eventually to a thicket where I found some tasty food.  Remembering that just about every second puzzle solution in Hassett’s games involves FEEDing something, I took the food with me rather than eating it myself.  East of the thicket was a rocky flat and a cave, but it was dark inside so I decided to go elsewhere to look for a light source.

East of my starting location I found a green bottle in the sand, but I couldn’t open it so I took it with me.  Further east I found an oasis, with a single palm tree.  I climbed up the tree, and there I found a vulture guarding a golden feather.  The feather was denoted with + symbols, meaning that it was one of the treasures that I needed to find.  I fed the tasty food to the vulture, which flew away, and I was able to claim the feather and take it back to the beach.

I can’t imagine that hand-feeding a vulture is much fun.

Heading south from the oasis, I found a dusty book half-buried in a sand dune.  Reading the book gave me the following clue: MAGIC BREAK WORD BOTTLE “BIMBO”.  This looked like two clues jumbled up to me.  I tried breaking the bottle, only to be told that there was nothing hard enough here.  I also tried typing SAY BIMBO, but nothing happened.  The game definitely recognised BIMBO though, so I was on the right track.

I followed a winding path around from where I’d found the book, past a waterfall (with no secret room behind it, what a rip), and to the edge of a cliff.  There I found a lighter, which would definitely come in handy if I ever found a light source to use it on.  North and east of that I eventually came to a place called Spyglass Hill, where I encountered a deer.  Nothing I tried to do worked, not even KILL DEER, so I left this for later.

South of the deer I found a shady spot, where a warlock was guarding a silver key, the second of the treasures that I needed.  Much like the deer, the warlock didn’t respond to anything I did, but he also wouldn’t let me take they key.

This was all looking very similar in structure to Voyage to Atlantis.  That game had treasures scattered around the map, most of them guarded by creatures that served no other purpose than to act as obstacles to the treasure they were guarding.  Solving the game was a case of finding the solution to getting rid of each creature, and if memory served a lot of those solutions would involve food.  I’d already found one that backed that up.

The only other place to explore was east of the oasis, which led me a large rock with writing on it.  The writing read: “WARLOCK SLIP. HIT DEER”.  The first part of that didn’t look like something I could act on right now, but I went back and tried HIT DEER.  I was told “I’ve no weapon, so I’d rather not.”  Something else to remember.

I went back to the rock and tried breaking the bottle.  The rock was obviously hard enough, because the bottle shattered and revealed a note inside.  The note read: “HOLY SMOKES, A TIGER! BARBS LIKE BAN…” The rest of the note was too faded to read.  I hadn’t encountered a tiger yet, nor had I met a “barb”, which I figured was short for barbarian.

North and east of the rock, through some tall reeds, I found a depression with a lantern on the ground.  This was the light source I was looking for, and with the lighter I was able to ignite the lantern and start exploring the cave.  Thankfully, the lantern doesn’t appear to ever run out.

The caves were almost as big as the rest of the island I’d explored, but only a few locations had items of interest in them.  In a “sacred chamber” to the north and east I found a gold ring, the first unguarded treasure that I’d found.  West of that, in a dead end, I found an emerald embedded in the wall.  I mustn’t have had the right tool on me though, because I couldn’t get it out.

A little bit north and west of the entrance I found a cell, with a human skull on the floor.  South of that was another dead end, with a “mammoth ruby”, another unguarded treasure that I gleefully pocketed.  I’d thought its implied size might cause me problems, but it didn’t.

North of that I found a strange cave, where a medicine man was guarding a crate.  As with every other living thing in the game, he was non-responsive to all of my actions except trying to take that crate.

At this point, I’d explored every part of the island that I could find, and none of the inventory items I had were obvious solutions to the obstacles before me.  I needed something that could make the warlock slip, a weapon to hit the deer with, and a tool to pry the emerald from the wall.  As for the medicine man, I didn’t have any clues as to how to sort him out.  There was nothing for it but to retrace my steps around the island and make sure that I hadn’t missed anything.

I found the first clue to what I was missing at the top of the oasis palm tree.  The description there said that I could see a jungle to the south, but I couldn’t see a way to get there.  This put me in the mind of the passwords from Colossal Cave Adventure and its variants, so I tried SAY BIMBO again.  This time it worked, teleporting me to a dead end in the cave.  This didn’t seem all that helpful, so I tried it again, and this time it teleported me to the jungle I had seen from afar.

If I say this word one more time I’m going to get cancelled.

It took a little while, and another death, to figure out what I had done to make BIMBO work.  It turns out that you need the ruby in your possession.  There is a clue to this in the game, although I never found it: if you type OPEN BOOK rather than READ BOOK, a hollow voice tells you that “the ruby was Bimbo’s”.  I’m not sure why you’d try that once you’ve read it, but it’s not the first game I’ve played where the two commands give different results.  Usually, it’s that there’s a note or something hidden between the pages.  Anyway, I worked out the solution through process of elimination, by trying the magic word every time I picked something up or did anything else noteworthy.

The jungle was a pretty small area. To the west, I found a hut with a barbarian guarding some rare spices.  To the north was a tiger guarding a priceless giraffe skin.  And to the east, I found a bear guarding some Cuban cigars.  I also found a bamboo pole, which I took with me, but nothing I was carrying seemed to have an effect on any of these three.  (For old time’s sake, with Adventureland fresh in my memory, I tried SCREW BEAR.  Nothing happened.)

The only other avenue to explore was a dark marsh, this game’s obligatory maze.  Since this was a marsh I didn’t think that leaving inventory breadcrumbs would work as a mapping tool, as I expected them to sink into the bog.  That didn’t happen though, and mapping this small maze was no hassle.  I found a bunch of potentially useful items in there as well: a jewel-encrusted coconut (another treasure), a glowing glass ball, a banana, and an iron pick.  I also wandered out of the swamp and into the ocean for another ignominious death, but in a game as small as this it was a minor setback.

The first thing I tried after scooping up all of this stuff (which required multiple trips due to this game’s six item inventory limit) was to break the glass ball.  This caused yet another death, but one that came with a vital clue.

This isn’t necessarily a game over, you can BIMBO your way out of the Land of Lost Adventurers. You can’t win without the glass ball though.

I’m not sure how I feel about this.  Should vital clues come from failure?  On the one hand it breaks the narrative immersion.  On the other hand, playing an adventure game isn’t really like experiencing a narrative at all, particularly in these early days.  It’s more like unravelling a puzzle, and repeated failure is a part of that process.  I can see why people have a problem with this sort of thing, but I think I’m okay with it.

I was pretty sure at this point that I had the tools I needed to solve the game.  I started by feeding the banana to the barbarian, who took off and left the peel behind.  I took the spices and the peel, and went to the warlock.  GIVE didn’t work as a command, and THROW gave me the message that I could only throw the ball.  So I tried DROP, and sure enough the warlock slipped on the peel and vanished.  (I assume he teleported away out of embarrassment.)  I took his key, and went to deal with the medicine man.  Trying BREAK BALL here results in yet another death, but when I tried THROW BALL the wizard instead took his wrath out on the medicine man.  With the key I was able to unlock the crate, and inside I found another treasure, a golden chain.

“I had the cure for the plague of the 20th shentury and I losht it!” That’s some obscure Sean Connery for you oldies out there.

From there it was a simple matter to pry the emerald out of the wall with the pick, and hit the deer with the bamboo pole.  This causes it to bound away, leaving golden antlers behind.  How this is done by an explicitly female deer is anyone’s guess.

So far I’d gathered the following treasures: a golden feather, a silver key, golden antlers, a ruby, a gold ring, an emerald, a golden chain, some rare spices, and a jewel-encrusted coconut. There were two other treasures to be procured – the Cuban cigars and the giraffe skin – but both were guarded by the bear and the tiger respectively.  Based on earlier clues I guessed that the cigars would get rid of the tiger, but that meant I still had to deal with the bear, and nothing in my inventory looked helpful.  The only item I had that hadn’t served a purpose yet was the skull, but the bear wasn’t interested in eating it, and I wasn’t able to throw it either.

This is where I got stuck for the longest, and I considered hitting a walkthrough for the solution.  This time my patience held out for once.  I just kept trying different things on the bear until I hit on the solution.  It ended up being a little bit annoying.  Trying HIT BEAR gave me back a message that I didn’t want to, because the bear might hit back.  But when, in desperation, I tried FIGHT BEAR, I got the following result.

And I did it *bear*-handed.  That’s it. That’s the joke. Wacka-wacka.

So I’d already found the solution, I just hadn’t worded it properly.  The same thing happened to me recently with Mystery House, where CLEAN ALGAE hadn’t worked but WIPE ALGAE did.  At least in that game, it happened with a verb that the parser didn’t recognise.  With Enchanted Island, it recognises HIT, FIGHT and ATTACK, which are ostensibly the same action, but only the latter two let you kill the bear.  (Incidentally, trying FIGHT or ATTACK on the deer gets you killed, even if you have the bamboo pole.)

With the cigars now in my possession, I went to the tiger and typed LIGHT CIGAR.  This didn’t work, but SMOKE CIGAR did, and I was able to claim the giraffe skin.  These were the final two treasures, and I took them back to the beach and claimed the full 140 points.

I won, I guess?

Somewhat disappointingly, there’s no victory message when you win.  I wondered briefly if there was perhaps something else that I’d missed, but my score suggested not.  I confirmed later by playing an earlier version of the game that I’d found everything, so it seems like Greg Hassett either didn’t want to congratulate the player or just forgot about it.

This is the full treasure list, and the amount of points that each one is worth:

Golden Feather – 15 points

Ruby – 10 points

Gold Ring – 15 points

Jewel-Encrusted Coconut – 10 points

Rare Spices – 10 points

Emerald – 15 points

Silver Key – 10 points

Golden Chain – 15 points

Golden Antlers – 15 points

Giraffe Skin – 10 points

Cuban Cigars – 15 points

And this is my Trizbort map of the game:

Wooaah, the clicks’ll make it bigger.

Enchanted Island isn’t bad, but it’s a pretty slight experience.  Much like Voyage to Atlantis, it’s a perfectly competent game that does what it does in the most adequate manner possible.  I didn’t love it, but it’s a perfectly fine way to fill in an hour or two.

RADNESS INDEX:

Story & Setting: The treasure hunt set-up doesn’t earn it any favours, but I was intrigued by this game being set on an island off the coast of Australia.  It doesn’t follow through on that at all though, featuring a number of things that do not exist in or near Australia at all.  We don’t have tigers (although we did have Tasmanian tigers, but those are different); we don’t have bears (although we do have koalas, even though they aren’t really bears; and I suppose there are always the dreaded, deadly Drop Bears); and according to the internet we don’t even have vultures.  I’ll give Hassett the warlock, but “medicine man” isn’t really a title that gets used for our country’s indigenous elders.  It’s much more of a generic hodge-podge of jungle stereotypes, and not all that interesting. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Characters & Monsters: As with Hassett’s other games, Enchanted Island doesn’t have living creatures or even the digital representation of such: it just has obstacles.  Rating: 1 out of 7.

Aesthetics: Silent, text-based, terse. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Puzzles: The puzzles are simple, and not all that clever.  Only two of them presented any difficulty, and the solution to the bear puzzle is really not solvable without simple trial-and-error. Rating: 2 out of 7.

Mechanics: The parser is a basic two word affair, which has its own set of strengths and limitations.  It does pretty much everything it sets out to do adequately, and there was only one place where I had real parser trouble. Rating: 3 out of 7.

Challenge: A game that I can knock off in under two hours definitely gets lumped into the too easy basket, but it didn’t present me much in the way of frustrations.  Rating: 2 out of 7.

Fun: There’s not a lot of enjoyment to be gleaned from this one, but as I’ve said before I always have time for a short game.  Rating: 2 out of 7.

Bonus Points: 0.

The above scores total 12, which doubled gives it a RADNESS Index of 24. That puts it equal 34th overall, and equal 20th out of 27 adventure games.  It’s sitting level with Burial Ground Adventure and Hassett’s own House of Seven Gables.  In terms of the other Hassett adventures I’ve played, Journey to the Center of the Earth and King Tut’s Tomb are two points below, and Voyage to Atlantis is four points higher.  That’s probably because I ranked it pretty early into the blog, but then again it does allow you to shoot a manta ray with a cannonball, which is definitely worth some points.

PORTS OF CALL

I couldn’t find the Apple II version of this game, nor could I find a version for the TRS-80 that was earlier than the one I played above.  But on this web-site I found a web-based implementation of Enchanted Island that has a number of differences.  I’d say it’s pretty clearly based on the game’s original release, or at least something a lot closer than the TRS-80 version that I played.

I’ll run through the differences below:

There’s no warning at beginning of the game about heading south into the ocean.

In the same location where you find the tasty food, there is also some green liquid.  I never found a use for it.

Opening the book no longer gives you a clue about the ruby belonging to Bimbo. That clue comes from the skull in the cell, and is given to you upon entering that room.

The warlock doesn’t just disappear when he slips on the banana peel, he slips and breaks his neck.

The clue in the book is slightly different, and comes with a plug for Hassett’s five previous adventures.  Instead of saying “MAGIC BREAK WORD BOTTLE BIMBO”, the clue after the advertising reads: “BRE BOT MAGIC WORD: BIMBO”.

The clue written on the rock is also different.  Instead of “SLIP WARLOCK. HIT DEER”, it reads “SLIP WAR. HERACLES’ THIRD LABOR”. This is hitting some pretty obtuse territory, requiring the player to have some outside knowledge of Greek mythology.  The third labor of Heracles was to “capture the Ceryneian Hind”, a deer so fast that it could outrun an arrow. There are different versions of the story, with different accounts of how Heracles caught the deer, but in none of them does he take a swing at it with a bamboo pole.  It’s no surprise that Hassett changed this one in a later revision.

I TOLD YOU, I WOULD BREAK, YOUR F*CKIN NECK!

Probably the best difference, though, is that this version of the game actually has an ending.  I got my congratulations after all.

I do love the old-school TV aesthetic on this site.

I can’t really rate this version on the RADNESS Index, because I’m not sure where it’s sourced from.  I think it’s authentic, but there’s no way to know for certain, and I don’t know what release of the game it represents even if it is genuine.  It’s not quite different enough to get a changed score anyway.

NEXT: I’ve been checking in on Futurewar periodically to see if my problem has been fixed, but no luck so far.  The next game on my list promises to be a more substantial undertaking than some other games I’ve played recently.  It’s time to drop back to 1978 and play the 430-point version of Colossal Cave Adventure, which I see was written by Don Woods himself.  I suppose that makes it an official sequel of sorts, or perhaps even the definitive version of the game.  It’ll be interesting to check out.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-43-enchanted-island-1979/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost