#anyway. to continue. eden would be PISSED
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DIABOLIK LOVERS LOST EDEN Vol.2 Kino Saga [TRACK 3]
Original title: 理解できない苛立ち
Source: Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN Vol.2: Kino-hen
Audio: Here
Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno
→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!
Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5
TRACK 3: INEXPLICABLE IRRITATION
You get up from the bed and walk towards the window, looking for a way to open it.
*Creaaaak*
The wind blows in the distance.
*Thud*
*Rustle rustle*
You climb out of the window.
*SCENE SHIFT*
Kino is enjoying his bath.
*Splash*
“Hm, hm, hm~”
*Splash*
“Haahー Nothing like a good bath to wash away all the stress and exhaustion. As well as this guava juice I get to enjoy while soaking in the tub.”
*Gulp*
“Hah~ This is the best. …Oh! Shoot! …Hey, Yuuri! What time is it right now!?”
He answers.
*Splash*
“This is bad! The event starts in just five minutes! …Where did I leave my phone?”
*Splash splash*
“ー There we go. …Okay! All ready!”
*Knock knock*
“I’m busy right now! What do you need!?”
Yuuri explains.
“...Eh!? She fell…? From the window!? …!! …Wait! Ah!”
He drops his smartphone in the water.
“My smartphone! …Oh come on! Why!? The event’s about to start as well!”
*Splash*
“Ugh…Ahー! God! …Geez!”
He gets out of the tub.
“What an annoying woman…!”
Kino stomps his way out of the bathroom.
“Yuuri! A towel! Or rather, you wipe me down!”
Yuuri starts to dry him off.
“How will she make up for me missing this limited time event!?”
*TIMESKIP*
*Rustle rustle*
“Why do you cause me all this trouble…? ーー Answer me!”
*Thud*
Yuuri stops him just in time.
“Excuse me? Why are you stopping me!?”
He explains.
“She’ll die? …Well maybe that’s what she deserves!”
*Rustle rustle*
*Thud*
“Didn’t I tell you? I hate people who won’t listen to me…!”
*Rustle rustle*
“Excuse me? Could you maybe listen to me instead of just laying there half dead?”
You ask about the Sakamaki brothers.
“Haah…? You want to know if those guys are safe…? Why are you asking that? …Don’t tell me you jumped from the window because you wanted to go check for yourself?”
You nod.
“...! …I don’t understand. What the fuck…? …Yuuri, take her back to her room.”
*Rustle*
“...!? Excuse me? What’s the meaning of this? Why did you grab hold of my clothes? You really piss me off for some reason…”
Kino attempts to shake her off.
*Rustle*
“...Let me go! …Anyway, in their eyes, you were nothing but a convenient tool to vent their frustrations on, weren’t you? You donated your blood to them, right? So why are you so concerned about their safety? I don’t understand.”
*Rustle*
“Oh well, whatever. For now, I’ll take you back to your room and listen to your reasoning and excuses. …You will be punished as well.”
You are being carried back to your room.
“For ruining my smartphone…as well as making it impossible for me to participate in this limited time event. ーー I will never forgive you.”
*TIMESKIP*
( …I know that she is a special girl. For the longest time, I thought it was due to her blood. ーー However, now that I have met and interacted with her, I have come to realize that it goes beyond that. It is like her soul itself is already out of the ordinary. …I mean, she is strange, isn’t she? Why would she wish for the safety of the guys who put her through all that misery? She’s insane. I can only call her crazy. For some reason, that really pisses me off as I once again think to myself:
ーー I hate her. )
*Thud*
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
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Hidden in the shadows - A Halloween special
Mun Ari: Hello!! Although I don’t celebrate Halloween (I'm more of a "Día de muertos" person for OBVIOUS reasons lol So! I'm not late, but rather in time!!), I wanted to make something special! It’s been years since I made something for the occasion ^^. Plus! It was the perfect excuse to share this gorgeous commission @vixen-ocs made for me! OF COURSE I HAD TO MAKE AN SCENARIO TO SHOW IT OFF :D. Cause’ in this blog we LOVE the Phantom of the Opera! Hell yeah!!!
Note: Also! Let's consider this one-shot for Diatober - day 14: possession.
Anyway, enjoy!
When the curtain goes up, the show begins. She has done it various times already, yet she can’t get used to the feeling. She can’t help but feel a knot forming everytime in the pitch of her stomach. However, she has to focus: she knows he’s watching.
But that doesn’t help with her nerves, so she pushes that thought aside. If she gets nervous, her voice won’t be able to reach the correct notes. That pisses him off, he has been taking extra care to fix that bad habit of hers. Last time, he punished her severely: by making her sing until her vocal cords felt like bleeding.
“The curtain is about to lift, are you ready?” someone asked her, interrupting her swirling thoughts.
“Y-Yes!” she stuttered, that’s not good.
“You sure?” the staff member asked her in concern.
She knows what people say about her: how was an amateur like her able to get herself a spot in tonight’s show? She didn’t have a proper education regarding music or singing. She was a nobody, who everyone thought she "thought she knew how to sing". But everyone had their doubts: how would she be able to sing in such a big scenario, when she was so shy and stuttered whenever she had to speak to a big audience? When she couldn’t even look into the eyes of the director when she was selected as part of the show?
“Sure! Don’t worry!” she smiled reassuringly, although she was fighting with all her might to sound confident and bury her nerves.
The young staff member nodded and gave the sign to the rest of the crew to start the show. Everyone went to their places and so did she.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to Eden Opera House! Today’s show promises to be unforgivable!” the master of the ceremony announced. “This is the third call! Let’s begin!”.
The orchestra started playing the introduction melody, a round of applause was heard and everyone backstage were preparing the last details for the show.
“Today is very special you see!” the master continued “We have a special number prepared just for you! You may have never heard of her, but that makes her the most intriguing part of tonight’s show!”
She could hear the low mumbles of the audience, all curious as to what it could be.
“Don’t let this young lady fool you! Don’t you dare underestimate her! She might be young, small and unknown! But her voice… her voice is like nothing you have heard before!”
Ari closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew the song, she knew how to sing it, I was going to go well. It better be.
"We present you: Miss Ariadna!"
A round of applause was heard and soon the curtain lifted. Ari opened her eyes and for a single second, she saw the public. She was scared, but remembered his words:
"Don’t look at them. Look somewhere else, never to their faces or you'll lose the little confidence you'll have".
She quickly looked at the distant vase of roses placed as part of the decoration at the very top of the theater. That should do. She bowed to the audience and then waited for the music to play.
To think she would be standing as the main singer… not once it had crossed her mind. It all happened so suddenly…
She was visiting an old friend in the theater as she was in town for some time. He has been working there for quite some time, however things didn't turn out as she should. She wanted to have a glimpse of the theater's scenario. Her friend told her no one was working that day and she started singing to spend some time while his friend had to do some things before finishing his shift.
It was a sweet song, one that she had memorized as it was her favorite. She sang it as it came naturally to her, she never thought of her voice as anything extraordinary, she simply enjoyed it. Who would have thought that a certain someone would be there and came to like her voice?
When she finished, she heard an applause. She was straddled and for a moment thought it was her friend, until he spoke:
"Not bad~ considering it came from a tiny amateur like yourself~"
She didn’t hear him coming, not a single footstep. It was like he was part of the darkness, and decided to make himself noted.
“W-Who’s there?” she asked to that darkness that had spoken to her.
“I’m impressed there’s still someone who doesn’t know about me yet” he replied.
She made some memory and THAT rumor came to her, her friend had told her about it. It was said that within the deepness of the opera house existed a strange being. No one knew how or when he arrived, they just knew that he was already there. He dedicated himself to observe the people acting there, if he liked their talent he would help that rising star to shine. Every artist he had chosen had gone over the top. When people ask them about their secret, they refuse to speak other than: “he saw the talent in me and got me here”. Oh, but there’s also a dark side to this man: if you dared to try to tame him, trick him or go against his wishes… death was sure to come to you. Many dead bodies appeared all around the theater installations and no culprit. The common similarities of the bodies were disposed artists that had failed or pushed their luck into being liked by him. Everyone blamed him, they knew it had to be him, but there was no proof and not to mention that, how could you take justice to a phantom? Besides, it has been over a year that no talent has been chosen. People wondered when he would choose someone, but they knew he wasn’t gone. They could feel it, even if they never truly saw him.
“T-The phantom of the opera?” she asked, a little mockingly.
It couldn’t be him… right?
“The one and only~”
From the shadows she could see at the distance the figure of a man, ever so elegant as mysterious.
She knew she had attracted unwanted attention, a praise from him was like a curse: either a one that could end in bless or death.
“I’m not really sure if I should be honored or scared to make your acquaintance,” she said sincerely.
She earned a low chuckle from him.
“That depends on you,” he simply replied.
She wanted to run, but she knew better that once the rumor turned to be true… she had to be careful. You shouldn't run, you shouldn’t test his patience, always listen first, and most importantly: obey.
The lights suddenly went out and Ari shrieked in fear. She could hear him laugh and as she sought for any source of light or exit, she had to try.
“Come”.
She didn’t want to, she was scared to have been chosen by him. Especially when she was no artist.
Her eyes caught a glimpse of light, and another until it formed a path within the pitch dark atmosphere.
“I won’t repeat myself” he warned her “You must know better not to test me”.
She had no choice, she followed down the candlelight path. The more she walked, the deeper she got. At a certain point, she arrived at a huge mirror, but it wasn’t an ordinary one: it led somewhere. Ari was forced to continue and she got into the very heart of the opera house.
The music started, the melody making her focus on getting ready. Sweet music notes surrounded her and she silently counted until she had to start singing. The lyrics came natural to her, after all she had been practicing them nonstop. If she could describe him: he seeks perfection and results. Under what purpose? Who knows.
After that night they met, he didn’t care for introductions or formalities. She tried to explain to him she was no aspiring artist, she only sang for fun and it was merely an impulse for that exhibition. He didn’t care, he only asked her to sing for him. SHe tried to refuse, but he had intimidated her into giving in for her sake.
After an improvised song, the first that came into her mind, he decided to choose her to be his next pawn. And she had no say in it.
Word after word, her voice reaching the right tone. She had worked so hard for it. She wanted to please him, so she could be safe. He had promised to let her go if her performance was flawless. That’s why she tried not to complain about the harsh training and all the sleepless nights. Not until she learned the lyrics and got everything right, she had to.
High pitches, medium ones… everything was simply going perfect. She was almost there.
Strangely, as the nights and rehearsals went, he became more insistent and had a need to get closer to her. He wasn’t hiding anymore from her, no longer instructing her from a distance, he had gone so close to her… she no longer feared the uncertainty of his appearance. Strangely enough, it made her feel at ease.
The song almost came to an end and she discreetly looked up in the private and furthest balcony in the theater: a place only destined to him.
He was indeed watching her: every movement, examining and attentively listening to every sound her voice made. Like the harshest critic and the most inquisitive professor. However, he was smiling. Maybe she had passed the test.
She reached the finale and after an epic end, the audience broke in joy. Applauses and ovations, some even threw flowers and the cheers made her open her eyes in awe as well as flustering her.
She bowed and the curtain fell. Just as it did, everyone backstage gathered around her.
“How did you improve so much in such a short amount of time?”
“Did you hire a teacher? Present him to me!”
“You have such an amazing voice! Like that of an angel!”
Angel… yeah, he described her voice like that as well.
“What is your secret?”
Oh, that question…
“I have a magnificent teacher, strict… but he knows what he’s doing”.
The rest of the crew and artists prepared for the next act, and Ari was allowed to rest in her dressing room. She was nervous, what would he think about her performance?
A celebration came afterwards, right after the show ended and the public left.
“What a successful night!” the owner exclaimed, while all his workers cheered with him.
“Did you see the amount of people we had tonight? They sure filled every seat!” someone said.
“I think it was thanks to the announcement set all around town!” another said “After all, HE chose someone else after so long!"
“Now that you mention it… who was the artist he chose this time?”
Everyone looked around, and someone suddenly exclaimed.
“Where's Miss Ariadna?”
Little did they know, she was having a hard time walking in the darkness of a long secret hallway. Taking her deeper and deeper into the very heart of the opera house. Wondering just how things had turned out since she made the mistake of showing her voice to no other than him. Singing to ease her fear and somehow feel accompanied, a song of resignation.
“In sleep he sang to me,
in dreams he came
that voice which calls to me
and speaks my name
And do I dream again?
For now, I find
The Phantom of the opera is there
inside my mind…”
Taking step by step, closer where she had to go… after all she couldn’t refuse when he called for her.
“Sing once again with me
Our strange duet
My power over you
Grows stronger yet
And though you turn from me
To glance behind
The phantom of the, opera is there
Inside your mind”
One could believe the owner of such a voice was to be trusted, but that could lead you to become prisoner of him. A mere puppet obeying his commands, to his heart’s content.
“Those who have seen your face
Draw back in fear
I am the mask you wear…”
“It's me they hear”.
She kept walking, following the voice that always answered back no matter the song she dared to sing.
“(Your) My spirit and my (your) voice
In one combined
The phantom of the, opera is there
Inside my (your) mind!”
It worked like a secret code to identify each other whenever they set an encounter. One could freak out if you hear someone replying to your songs, but at this point Ari was already used to it.
“He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera” she sang more to herself, to get ready for what was coming. It was hard to guess his mood by his voice only…
She finally arrived at her destination. The chamber hidden meters and meters deep into the Opera House. But there’s where he hid.
Ari doesn’t understand why he had to hide, in such a frightening place like that chamber. You could hardly consider it a home: a single yet huge bed, a huge organ occupying half the space, a single desk filled with papers and sheets of music spread every inch of the surface, bottles of inks and pens and everything hardly illuminated by candles.
He wasn’t anywhere to be seen… until she felt a goosebump.
“Looking for someone~?” a voice startled her coming from behind her.
She turned around and there he was: wearing his special tuxedo, the one he apparently used every night there was a show, his gala outfit. She met him with that same tuxedo. Not to mention the mask he wore hiding half his face. The so-called Phantom of the Opera… or Kino as he had presented himself to her.
“I guess…” she replied, shrugging “You called for me?”
“As boring as ever” Kino seemed disappointed, she had learnt that scaring people and especially her was a hobby he enjoyed. He hated it when she didn’t react like he expected.
He passed next to her and took a seat by his grand bed. Ari never knew how to behave or anything when it came to this situation where he called for her down to his hideout.
“A-Are we going to practice?” she asked, better prepare for it.
“You want to?” he asked, arching his eyebrow.
“N-Not really…but you always call me here for that” she replied, resignation echoing her voice.
He looked at her, but she looked somewhere else.
‘Never look for long to his face, he hides it for a reason and he can kill you for that’ those were the warnings his rumor had to offer her and she always took them into consideration.
“Considering your performance tonight…” he said.
There it was, he was about to grade her. His all so strict teacher. Always seeking perfection.
“I think you deserve something regarding it”
“Is it bad?” she looked at him slightly scared.
“That’ll depend on how you see it”.
He made her a sign to step closer. Ari gulped, but did as he wanted.
When she was right in front of him, he spoke.
“How do you think you did?”
Ari thought it, but she never knew. If she thinks she did good, he’ll defer and vice versa. How was it this time?
“So?”
“I think… I could always improve?”
He chuckled. Maybe her answer was right?
“There’s always a space for improvement” he agreed “However~"
He tugged her by the waist and she was suddenly trapped in his embrace, looking straight into his face. Up close, it felt surreal. He had that mysterious yet breathtaking beauty: deep red eyes, pale like snow skin and dark hair like the very night. Yet that was her opinion… one she couldn’t share as no one had ever gotten a closer look at him. He wouldn’t allow it, he liked it to be like a shadow hidden within the darkness. She felt nervous when he was close to her, she always felt he could see deep into her soul or read her thoughts. She couldn’t truly hide anything from him… in many ways. He was always looking, he had an eye on her specially.
“This time, you fulfilled my expectations” he said, satisfied “congratulations”.
Was that a complement? She thought those didn’t exist in his vocabulary.
“R-Really?” she asked, seeking confirmation.
“Feel honored, none of my students got to please me like you did tonight” he gave her a smirk, one that made her flustered as was unfairly breathtaking. She hated feeling like this.
“I-I’m so glad then” she looked down into her dress, in an attempt to hide her face.
“For you to be satisfied with so little as a compliment” she heard him chuckling, that damn sound that made her stomach be filled with butterflies. Hopefully he wouldn’t listen to her altered heartbeat.
“That’s too much coming from you,” she admitted.
“So you admit it?”
“Is there any point in denying it?”
“No, I like it that way”
She wanted to go and hide, she didn't like to give him the satisfaction to see her so altered by him or anything that he did or said. She felt weak all of a sudden, maybe it was the lack of energy after the relief of his approval.
“Good, I guess… I’ll get going now” she said, but when she tried to break free from his embrace, he didn’t allow it.
“It’s been a long night” he said “Stay here”
“E-Excuse me!?” she raised her head, surprised by the sudden proposal.
“Calm down, I’m being considerate, you know?” he seemed like he was enjoying it “You are barely keeping yourself awake at this point”
That was right, she felt her eyelids heavy, it had indeed been such a long night.
“Consider this both an order and your reward” he said and Ari couldn’t fight her tiredness anymore.
She sighed and allowed him to position her into his lap, her back leaning into his chest. Slowly losing the fight to keep herself conscious. He was oddly kind tonight, she couldn’t tell why. She was so tired, she could have sworn he was playing with her hair, soothing her to sleep.
“Sleep” he said, may have sounded like a commandment, but his voice was soft and also sounded so far away from Ari. “And have sweet dreams, my angel of music”.
He could be so kind when he wanted… and she couldn’t help but love it when he was like that and when he specially referred to her like that. She would only allow him, because he was the only one that saw her talent and acknowledged it. He claimed to see her potential and he brought it into the light, he had proven it. Whatever the reason was for investing so much in her… she didn’t mind it.
“My angel of music… you’ll be the one to make my plans come true” he smiled with a dark note Ari didn’t get to see, long lost into the land of dreams.
Besides, she was willing to let him use her for whatever purpose he had.
After all… she loved being his angel of music.
Mun Ari: The tension… I could feel it up until here!!! Part 2? Nah~ jk! I made it to be a one-shot… unless 7u7. Anyway! Thank you Vale! I love it!! Also! Is never too much to mention that the song credits goes for the creator and I don't claim them as mine! I just copy them from Spotify jeje~
#ariadnasdiary#ariadna koizumi martínez#kino#ariadnaxkino#arino#diatober 2023#commission#credits to @vixen-ocs#mun ari speaks#one shot#phantom of the opera AU#diabolik lovers oc#diabolik lovers latino
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Nona the Ninth, Chapter 26
(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)
(Fourth House icon)(1) In which Nona says a proper goodbye.
They all pile into people-moving trucks We Suffer brought, Kiriona playing dead again over Pyrrha's shoulder. WS has medics evaluate Cam, but they declare they can't do any better. Cam tries to reject pain meds, while Pal suggests they fill her to the gills.
Nona had never seen Camilla so meek or malleable. It was like all the times she had ever seen Camilla happy, all at once.(2)
There's debate over who's to ride with Kiriona, as WS doesn't want everyone in one truck. Cam and Pal split themselves up, with Cam winking surreptitiously at Nona as she says they need some space(3) so she'll go with the prince.
Pash, on the other hand, takes one look at Kiriona Gaia, says fuck that, and gets in Nona's truck with everyone else.(4) Crown asks Pal if he can do anything to help Judith. Pal says he can't do it in this body, but that Judith is having micro-seizures. They hope she keeps fighting a little longer.
WS asks Pal about the shuttle, and he tells her it's secure, which Nona admires the absolute truth of. He asks her about the Oversight Body, and she has good and neutral news. Merv Wing has been storing them in the underground tunnels, moving them constantly to avoid detection.
“How many underground sites—” began Palamedes, but Nona’s neck had gone stiff of its own accord. Her short-term memory, never very good, had developed a sharp picture in her head: she could hear a high, frightened voice saying fucking nuts man, fucking nutter; she could taste little green fruits.(5)
WS and Pal continue discussing, and Pal doesn't quite believe that they've just been driving these trucks around this whole time.
“Classic Blood of Eden move,” said Pyrrha. “Fucking insane, surprisingly effective, relies on a lot of soldiers pissing in a lot of bottles.”
Our Lady of the Passion made a sound that, to Nona, was unmistakably a laugh, and obviously hated herself for this so much that she curled up into her seat and glared all around at everyone.(6)
WS moves her computer and crosses her legs, and Nona observes internally that WS sits like she's sitting something much prettier, and until recently Nona would have tried to imitate it, but now it just gives her a pang of "sorrow related to legs."(7)
WS has a plan to take the drivers of the trucks, but there's not a great likelihood of success. Pal asks if there's a way to improve the numbers, setting Pash off about bureaucrats in the org, for which Crown agrees with Pash, and Pal apologizes.
As this wraps up, Judith makes a gurgling sound "weirdly like guttural laughter" and then stops as suddenly as she started.(8) Nona clears her throat, and says she knows where the convoy was earlier this week, as her friend ran into them on a job. They can confirm some of the detail with the Angel, even.
WS is skeptical, but makes a call with her back turned to Nona, so Nona can't hear or understand. When she turns back, she asks if Nona's friend would tell them the exact location he saw the trucks. Nona laughs and says Honesty never told the truth to adults in uniform. WS asks if he would tell Nona, and Nona has to pause. He might have, before yesterday, but yesterday Hot Sauce kicked her out of the gang.
They bring Nona to Honesty's building anyway. Honesty won't let her into his utility closet apartment, because he's spoken to Hot Sauce, and Nona says he should believe Hot Sauce first and foremost, or she'd think less of him anyway.
She asks through the door if he can tell her the location he saw the convoy. She says she'll go away forever if he tells her, and he can have the coins in her ceramic fish in her room at home, and there's her old wiping rag in her desk which might have drops of turpentine on it that he can sell to someone to get high.
The door closes, and Nona feels like an abject failure until it opens again… to reveal Hot Sauce has been there the whole time. Honesty says he can't not be friends with a girl like Nona, who thinks of his business that way.
Hot Sauce invites Nona in to sit down. Nona does so, but says she can't stay long. Hot Sauce asks if she's really going away, and Nona says yes, all the necromancers are going, there will be no more here for a while. Honesty gets out the map the Angel had shown them in the classroom, which he stole, and points to where he saw the convoy on it. Hot Sauce says he should write it down, since it's not for Nona.
While Honesty writes, Nona asks Hot Sauce to consider telling the others she loves them, and apologizing to the head teacher for her, and confirms that the Angel is very important. Honesty finishes writing, and Nona tells him not to take jobs like that again, please.
She makes to leave, but at the last second, asks Hot Sauce where she got her name. Hot Sauce waits a moment before replying, but says it's her name because she really likes it, and puts it on everything she can. Nona hugs Hot Sauce and asks for forgiveness.
Hot Sauce was as still as a statue in Nona’s arms. Then she gently perambulated Nona toward the door—bumped her gently over the threshold—looked her dead in the face.
“We’re cool,” she said, and, awkwardly: “I’ll always love you, Nona.”
Nona found that huge tears were dripping out of her eyes, making it hard to see Hot Sauce.
“Can I be in the gang again?” she whispered.
Hot Sauce wavered.
“Yes,” she said, “but you’re on Kevin bathroom duty forever for being a zombie. That’s fair.” And she shut the door.(9)
=====
(1) At a guess, I think this is allusion by way of a second layer of allusion through chapter icon. The Fourth House sent the kids in GtN, and here, it's Nona saying goodbye to her kid friends.
(2) I'm not sure I'd be comparing Cam's injury meekness to happiness. Why is Nona? What does Cam's body language say?
(3) And here, Cam obviously is overjoyed at something. What's she hiding?
(4) Her resemblance to Wake, whose picture is plastered all over the place, must be a little too much for Pash.
(5) Chapter 7, when Honesty was talking about his job, the people inside the trucks with the white eyes. The kids were eating what may have been grapes.
(6) Poor Pash. Can't help but like our friends.
(7) Why is Nona sorrowful about legs?
(8) Did it sound like laughter to anyone else, or just Nona? We know Judith has a history of making sounds only Nona can understand… Although, Pyrrha once conversed with Varun and may also understand Judith's Varun-noises. We can't know either way yet.
(9) And that's why they call it closure. [rimshot]
#the locked tomb#tlt#nona the ninth#ntn#nona the ninth spoilers#ntn spoilers#nona#camilla hect#palamedes sextus#pyrrha dve#our lady of the passion#we suffer#coronabeth tridentarius#hot sauce (ntn)#honesty (ntn)
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hii this is the-reynolds-pamphlet (this is my main and i cant get rid of it LMAO im not active on here)
re what you said about the s4 pacing. LITERALLY i wrote that whole other post as an answer to another ask i got about how the chosen's storyline really sucks in some aspects and i said the pacing is going to be incredibly off for season 4
okay first of all. there's a huge timeline issue in season 3 concerning the holidays and how much time passes since season 1, i was gonna make a whole other post about all the timeline inconsistencies but i didnt get around to doing it (i probably should). but like at this point it has been one year minimum since s1, realistically it should be three years if the end of season 4 is palm sunday. then like ??? theyre gonna spend the entirety of s5 on ONE week? and for fucking what. i thought they wanted a "bingeable" proper show with pacing and everything, why would they zero in on that
but anyways about ramah. first of all im 99% sure it's because her actress has schedule conflicts and likely wants to drop out of the show (that's why she mysteriously left to go talk to her dad in season 3). but also it's kind of obvious that they're using her death as character development for thomas for the rest of the series (which is gonna be like 2 weeks maximum over 3 seasons anyway. unless they continue onto acts but that poses another huge pacing problem.) which is pissing me off like?? i had the same reaction when tamar was acting weird for like one (1) episode and then she told mary everything and just left. why would you not give them proper character development established over a long period of time and just confine it to singular episodes like that. im pretty sure tamar's backstory won't be brought up again lmao. also ramah doesn't really have much of a personality (which sucks because i got the impression she was a bit of a rich daddy's girl and there was potential for character exploration) and her character hasn't even been that established so like... partially it's easy to kill her but on the other hand, it isn't as emotional especially bc she wasn't even here the last season.
also remember how in the other post i was like why are they literally giving consistent character arcs and emotional plot for matthew, mary, simon & eden, and james & john but theyre basically forgetting everybody else exists. yeah like james just fucking launches himself at someone and gets knocked out in season 4 which is great but how long are they going to be just keep throwing new arcs for the main cast and keep ignoring thaddeus' existence. btw i watched a clip of That Scene in s4 (i didnt realize what it was when i was watching it lmao) with thaddeus and james and they're basically asking jesus why he's talking about dying. so thaddeus stays personalityless while big james is over there getting concussions #maincharacter. im not saying that scene w/jesus isnt necessary but im saying its thad's big scene and it is once again about Not thaddeus
this entire thing is incredibly bizarre to me because they COULDVE made an actual show with fleshed out characters and everything ??? they confined themselves to 8 1-hour long episodes per season, which of course restricts how much storytelling they can do while keeping in all the major gospel events they need to put in. but like first of all they couldve Not Done that. i think their audience wouldve gone insane for more episodes. second of all, if they WERENT gonna carry on character arcs and give everyone a fleshed out character then why did they introduce them as such??? i mean it was probably because they wanted to spark interest and then just forget about it but that kind of sucks. why did they do this lmao they literally had the opportunity to make it better
ok v rushed reply cause i have to go to the library the bus is coming in 15 minutes which means all the law students are leaving which means empty spaces BUT
you're so right the chosen's timeline is fucked up atp i can't really tell when it's been a day or a week or like. a couple months it's. i dont understand what theyre doing and why theyre doing it like this. cause like. even the characters who do have decent arcs like matthew and simon peter and james and john are not being developed properly cause the timing is so goddamn off. and i Know that in this new season they're gonna try to make john like Rise Above and start to kind of live up to his name as the favorite and have more understanding of jesus' teachings while james doesn't which is very stupid to me cause like. When. i think it was last season that this guy was bragging about getting to plough a field. how are they going to have john transition into one of the most competent disciples just. doesnt make sense.
and ALSO !!!! the reason all of these arcs are being so rushed is because they never get a break because as you mentioned literally nobody else gets any character developement. i wanna see more of thad. and little james. and nathanael while we're at it, and zee, and philip, and mary and tamar's friendship. why are they just throwing shit in there and never expand on it at all, unless you're thaddeus, in which case you don't even get that.
also i have a.,., suspicion, kind of, on where they're going with big james, and i can't be entirely sure, i'm not saying i'm correct, but just in case. Leave Tamar Alone ! i'm begging you ! dallas ! leave tamar alone ! not every single one of your female characters needs a romantic subplot ! i know big james is pretty and you want to give him a love interest so the repressed christian women in your audience keep watching your show, i see him, but for the love of christ actually ! leave tamar alone ! i know that if this happens you're only going to utilize her character for romance LEAVE TAMAR ALONE !!!!
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*rolls up super late* can i please hear more about Oh the Reckoning Begins (Chaps 7-13) or the Soulmate AU please? :D (--direwombat)
Oh, the Reckoning Begins is my multichapter FC5 fic aka the five years later AU. It's an AU where the world didn't end after the events of FC5. However, Eden's Gate has returned in a somewhat different form. I'm hoping I'll post more chapters this year.
Here is a snippet from chapter 7:
They rubbed the back of their neck. “I wasn’t planning on it, but….” Blue trailed off, unsure how to describe the conversation with Ethel and Peter. Clearing their throat, Blue continued. “Anyway, I decided to come again.”
Joseph tilted his head, eyes narrowing. He was doing that thing again, the one where he could read people. It was almost as if he could see into a person’s soul, find their weak points, and manipulate them. He smiled, this time proudly. “Something ails you, Blue. And you think I’m the only one can understand.”
I know that you’re the only one who can understand, which pisses me off. Blue crossed their arms over their chest and decided to avoid his comment, “Since I got to air out all my grievances, this is your chance to do it. So, lay it on me.”
His smile grew wider. “I do not need to air grievances against you. I have already forgiven you as family should, as God would have us.”
Blue frowned. “When the hell did you forgive me?”
Joseph’s smile disappeared, his face turning to a frown. “Have you already forgotten our time in the bunker? Do you really think so little of that time?”
#kate writes#kate answers asks#the blue fic tag#fic: oh the reckoning begins#Chapter 7 is still in the very rough draft stages#but I still want to post more of this fic this year#definitely I think have to do a hard rewrite of Joseph in this chapter#but ehhh...that's what editing is for
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you’re someone i just want around: VI
“I think I’m catching feelings
And I don’t know if this is empathy I feel
Just hold on
Remember when you said this was the last time?”
Sex, Eden
A/N: okay this chapter has probably been my favourite to write so far because we are finally. finally!!!!!! getting to a lil smidgen of softness!!!!! and the softness will only continue like originally I had a different lyric in mind for this chapter (a hozier lyric to stay on brand) and decided that it was too soft so I stocked it away to use in the future when things get even sweeter and harry gets even dumber 😌 we really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! and please remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated!!!! not just by us but by all content creators!!!!! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it!!!! spreading content keeps creators motivated!!!!! and so do messages about what you liked!!!! it lets us know what sort of vibe to add in later!!!! okay now that that’s out of the way!!!! let’s dive in 😼
ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist
word count: 29.1k
content/warnings: a good healthy dose of denial and justification to deny feelings, the defamation of gherkin pickles, pet names (literally), a strong independent woman who don’t need no man, a (not quite) man who definitely needs a strong independent woman, brunch served with a side of emotional trauma, breaking promises, nsfw social distancing, and Harry once again ignoring the phrase “bros before hoes”
///
Harry knows he’s good at a lot of things.
He’s good at picking up on fashion trends and turning them into timeless styles, molding each piece to fit his own persona with ease. He’s good at identifying the locational origins of wines within five seconds of the sweet liquid crossing over his tongue. He’s good at mixing his own drinks as well, always managing to craft the perfect concoction that suits each drinker’s needs. He’s good at creating gallery walls in his apartment, at charming anyone into giving him what he wants with a slip of his mouth, and at pissing off his friends until they’re threatening to stake him just to get a little peace and quiet. Harry is good at chess, at reciting poetry from memory, and at painting his non-dominant hand’s fingernails without smudging any nail polish onto his icy skin. Harry is fucking excellent at coaxing orgasms out from his lovers. He knows that he’s good at a lot of things.
The issue, he realizes the day after he asks Y/N out on a real date, is that planning a real date is not one of those things.
This, Harry rationalizes to himself, is not his fault. After all, the last time he’d been on a real date was during the Victorian era, and Harry is fairly certain that taking a chaperoned stroll around his beloved’s estate garden isn’t in fashion anymore. And when the way all of those dates ended is taken into account, Harry doesn’t think his past experiences should be the marker for a good date, anyways.
It’s this frustrating lack of knowledge that leads Harry to do what he always does when he doesn’t know the answer to something: he Googles it.
With the top of the line Macbook Harry had purchased a few months back with the money from a CEO of some candle company perched on his lap, Harry relaxes back onto his leather couch, kicking his brown boots up onto the matching footrest as he does so. Once the search engine is open and the cursor is blinking in front of his face, however, the vampire pauses, his manicured fingernails perched over the keys. What question could he possibly Google for his situation?
Harry twists his lion head ring around his cool finger as he thinks, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration while potential queries run through his head. Ideas for a first date with a girl you’ve been fucking for a month. Things to do in L.A. with a mortal when you’re a two hundred year old vampire. Places to take someone after drinking their blood. A snort echoes from Harry’s throat as the last idea pops into his head. Somehow, Harry isn’t confident in what results those questions will show him.
Tapping his black lacquered nails against the keys, Harry purses his lips as he loses himself in thought. How had he even gotten himself into this position? The reason he hasn’t planned a date in centuries is because he doesn’t date, and for good reason. What use does a soulless vampire have for dating? Mortals use romantic outings to open their hearts to one another, and Harry, in contrast, can’t open what he doesn’t have.
Despite his wondering, however, he knows exactly how he got himself into this situation: he let himself get jealous of a fake-tanned, shaggy-haired idiot named Jacob, a name that Harry despises on principle alone. It had been a perfectly fine name until that awful Meyer woman decided to make it one of the banes of Harry’s existence. And while Harry doesn’t have a particularly forgiving nature, he had just finally begun to get over the association, but thanks to that hallway confrontation at the end of Y/N’s date with the obtusely orange fool, Harry is now reminded that he will forever hate the name with a burning passion. And shaggy hair. And fake tans. And while the irony of him, a vampire—with a middle name of Edward, for Christ’s sake—hating an insignificant mortal named Jacob, simply because he dared to make a pass at the object of Harry’s fascination, is not lost on him, all of that was pushed aside the moment Harry smelled the perfume his fascination wore for the mortal boy.
Y/N never wears perfume for him. And though she had assured him that her dressing up had been for him, he can’t shake the fact that Jacob had gotten to experience it first.
It’s not that Y/N needs to wear perfume for him. In fact, if Harry’s being honest with himself, he likes that she doesn’t spritz artificial scents all over her body before letting him into her home and between her legs. She has one of the sweetest natural scents Harry’s ever had the pleasure of inhaling, all lavender and honey and utterly intoxicating. Of course, as all mortals are, Y/N is unaware of the mouth watering fragrance that drips from her skin, while Harry is all too aware of it at all times, but her obliviousness to her natural scent doesn’t change the fact that Harry would bathe in it if he could. If it were possible, Harry would pump an entire room full of her personal cloud of lavender and honey, lay back on the floor, turn down the lights, spark a joint, and let himself get lost in the very thought of her. That would be Harry’s personal definition of Nirvana.
But Y/N isn’t aware of her natural, skin sweetening aroma like Harry is, which means two things. Firstly, that Y/N doesn’t feel the need to smear anything unnatural on her body to attract Harry; she knows she doesn’t need to go through all that trouble. And that was fine with Harry, until he realized the second thing, which is that there potentially could be someone that Y/N would go to all that trouble for if he doesn’t keep her entertained and occupied. She had told him her date with Jacob hadn’t been on her terms, and that she’d done it just to be courteous towards a co-worker, but that doesn’t sedate the truth: There will always be a maddening possibility that occasions could come into play in which Y/N will spray a choking cloud of gardenia and freesia over herself, all in the hopes of appealing a suitor. The issue is that in those hypothetical cases, the suitor Y/N would be trying to impress wouldn’t be Harry.
Actually, that’s only the first issue. The second issue is that it could be another fraternity moron with an equally stupid name.
After the vampire had come upon Y/N ending her date in front of her door, just minutes before their own rendezvous was scheduled, Harry had felt an initial burst of blind rage, and everything after is a blur. He vaguely remembers trying to make Jacob uncomfortable and delighting in how he succeeded, until he saw the anger on Y/N’s sweet face. He remembers a brief discussion about limits and honesty, and about how she was only interested in him, and that he shouldn’t waste his time stressing about her supposedly dormant dating life. And, most importantly, he remembers asking Y/N to accompany him on a real date, one that would blow her date with the VeggieTales carrot out of the water.
Now, of course, he’s beginning to regret his impulsive decision, purely for the fact that he now has to figure out how to woo a mortal girl just enough to keep her away from creeps with horribly coiffed hair.
And yet, despite this regret…there’s something new curling inside his belly as he types the phrase date ideas for L.A. into the search bar, the blinking cursor reflecting in his eyes before he presses the enter key and millions of results pop up. Ah, the joys of the internet, he thinks as he scours the results with inhuman speed. It’ll take Harry a few different clicks to find the perfect activity for himself and Y/N, and his hyperfocus on the topic will stop him from over analyzing that new feeling twisting inside him.
It’s a win-win situation, if he can say so himself.
Harry’s halfway through the first disappointing article (somehow, he doesn’t think taking Y/N on a hike is very romantic) when the door to his condo opens and reveals Mitch in the frame, dressed in his usual casual attire, this time of blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Harry has spent the last century trying to refine the older vampire’s taste in clothing, even going so far as to once donate the entirety of Mitch’s closet to a homeless shelter, but all his efforts have been in vain, as his friend still insists on wearing the standard (and boring) style for every decade they’ve lived through together.
“Hey,” Mitch greets from the end of the corridor with a nonchalant nod, shutting the door behind himself before sauntering further into the living room. “Thought we were meeting at the bar at eight?”
It takes Harry a moment to remember the agreement Mitch refers to, his brow creasing as his eyes flicker to the corner of his computer screen. By the time he registers the numbers 8:41 shining back at him, the memory of agreeing to get drinks with Mitch after his evening gig has resurfaced. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“I thought so.” Mitch moves the decorative pillow next to Harry on the couch, taking a seat in his usual spot. His voice is slightly sarcastic as he gives Harry a knowing look. “That’s been happening a lot lately. Lapses in your memory and such.”
“It's old age, I suppose.” Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement, although he knows that Mitch’s comment is pointed towards a subject they’re both acquainted with, courtesy of Harry’s absence on their annual Vegas trip about a week prior. “It’s finally getting to me.”
The long-haired immortal makes a vague sound of humorous acknowledgement, but offers no other response as he turns his gaze to the younger vampire.
Harry watches as his friend’s expert eyes appraise his appearance, examining how the older vampire takes note of the messy state of Harry’s hair that indicates he’s been tugging on it in frustration, the redness of his lips, the way he’s curled over his open laptop. Although he makes no further comment on Harry’s newfound tendencies, his brows furrow in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“I, uh—” The amusement is replaced by an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness that sweeps through Harry’s entire body. “I’m doing research.”
When he’s given no other explanation, Mitch prompts his younger friend. “On?”
“I...asked that girl from the club out on a date— Y/N. Like, I invited her on a proper one.” Harry elaborates, twisting his lionhead ring around his finger as he speaks. “But I don’t really know, like, what to do with her. I’m a little out of touch with what a typical twenty-something woman wants to do on a real date.”
And this is another thing Harry is usually good at— being confident and sure of himself. Normally, he speaks with ease and a nonchalant cadence to his words, lacking any worry about how he’ll be perceived. Harry knows what he wants, and knows how to articulate it. Right now, however, he feels the complete opposite. There’s a tension aching its way through his muscles and settling into the pit of his stomach, curling around those organs that haven’t been truly needed in years, and the utterly bemused expression weaving its way onto Mitch’s face doesn’t help.
The quiet vampire cocks his head to the side upon receiving this news, propping one foot up onto Harry’s coffee table and addressing him with a mocking air. “Why are you taking her on an actual date? From what you’ve told me— which isn’t much, and that strains our best friend reputation, if I’m being honest— I thought you two had an...understanding?”
“We did. We do.” Harry stumbles over his words as he half shuts the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and giving Mitch’s foot a quick playful shove off the lacquered surface as he repositions himself. “But she went on a date with someone else, so I have to—”
“Are you jealous?” His friend cuts over him with an incredulous tone, and the disbelief sends a flare of something akin to shame through Harry’s body. “Because she had a date?”
“I’m not jealous.” With a firm voice, Harry manages to scoff at the very notion. “I may be a monster, but my eyes are red, not green. It’s just—”
“Well, technically, they are.”
The immortal ignores the shit-eating correction. “—occurred to me that our arrangement will end if Y/N starts seeing some mortal bloke. So, if she wants a relationship, then I can fabricate one for her.”
Although the excuse slips off his tongue easily enough, Harry refuses to meet Mitch’s eyes as he picks up his laptop and opens it again, clicking his way onto another article in the search results. The older vampire’s stare feels as if it’s scorching his icy skin, and Harry can’t exactly say he enjoys the sensation, but it’s better than the alternative of admitting to Mitch—and to himself—that he may harbour the smallest trace of feelings for the human girl.
However, Mitch seems to buy the rushed explanation. “Fabricate a relationship?” He repeats, scratching the base of his chin slowly. “Doesn’t that seem a little...cruel?”
“It’s not. It’s only for a bit, and once I’m done with her, I’ll probably just…” The words lodge in his throat for some unknown reason, but he forces them out. “I’ll probably just wipe myself from her mind, and she…” Harry’s sharp teeth tug on his plump bottom lip. “She won’t remember me. It’ll be fine.”
Yes, Harry repeats to himself as he scrolls through all the results Google has to offer. It’ll be fine. It has to be fine, really, because what’s the alternative? Harry’s kind aren’t exactly built for a long term commitment to anyone that’s less than immortal. The kindest thing for him to do would be to let Y/N go now, without having to use compulsion at all. It would be so simple, he thinks. One small text, a few words along the lines of “it’s not working out, and we probably shouldn’t see each other again, I’m sorry. H.” would probably suffice. And surely she’d be a little upset, but she’s mortal, and a mortal’s feelings never stay the same for long. It would take her a few weeks, or maybe a month at most to get over the creature she’d begun a casual sexual relationship with. Within a year, Harry and their short-lived friendship would be nothing but a small blip in her memory, and she’d be moved on to someone else.
Harry can see her future so clearly that he almost believes it’s shining through his laptop screen like an old film. Y/N, going back out for the first time after Harry breaks things off. Y/N, bumping into a handsome stranger with a bright smile and dull eyes. Y/N, slumped over her kitchen table and fighting a hangover as the stranger hands her a cup of coffee. Y/N and the stranger going for dinner. Walking hand in hand. Kissing goodnight at the door.
Harry’s mind spins through scenarios faster and faster, racing through every possible future for Y/N before he can even take another breath. Although some scenarios have different paths, different breakups, different faces, they always end at the very same place: Y/N in a white dress, walking down a flower strewn aisle, and taking the warm hand of someone who is not Harry.
If Harry needed to breathe, the wind would’ve been knocked out of him the moment he pictured those warm hands with blood pulsing beneath the skin lifting Y/N’s veil, cupping her flushed cheek, and sealing their lips to hers. It’s a perfectly normal image. A human pledging themselves to another human. It’s natural, by human standards, as they seem to value monogamy over everything else. The path Harry is seeing is the path Y/N was always meant to take. So why does it make his icy blood curdle?
Mitch, who seems to be completely unaware of the wild road map his friend’s mind has just drawn, speaks out his concerns in a quiet but careful voice. “Are you sure you’re not getting too attached?” He asks, gauging Harry’s reaction to his question as if it’s a catastrophic statement. “You’ve been spending more and more time with her, you blew off the Vegas trip for the first time…” The older vampire gives a soft shrug of his shoulders. “If it were just for sex and blood, that would be one thing, but it’s almost like you’re getting…addicted to her.”
Although the statement first brings a laugh to Harry's strawberry lips, the initial chuckle quickly fades away as the gravity of Mitch’s statement hits its recipient. Certainly, he feels an indescribable draw to Y/N, but he knows, deep down, that any addiction he has to her is more so to her blood than anything else. After all, what else could he possibly indulge? The last time Harry let himself be addicted to a person, he ended up with a broken neck and newfound bloodlust. He’s learned since then. He’s not so naïve, or so foolish, as to let his emotions wander like that again. He knows better.
“There’s no addiction—I just like her blood more than others, that’s all.” Harry assures his friend, tapping his thumb against the band of his mother’s opal ring. “I know I’ve been a bit of a flake lately, but it’s just while I have her around. I’ll get tired of her eventually; I always do.” He deliberately flashes his crimson eyes at his friend with a knowing smirk. “And then all it’ll take is a few choice words to take care of whatever lingering marks—metaphorical or otherwise— I’ve left on her, and it’ll all be done, and in the past. You know me, mate. Sometimes I like playing with my food.”
That last sentence makes his mouth go sour, almost as if his body is punishing him for uttering something so indifferently ruthless. Especially because deep down, there’s the smallest seed of doubt in his speech— the tiniest hint of uncertainty, telling him that the detachment he is playing up is not true.
Harry forces it to be true. It has to be. Both for his sake, and Y/N’s.
Mitch spends a long few minutes gazing into the blood red irises marching his stare, determined to find a crack in their façade. However, Harry’s good at hiding his feelings, given that he’s had decades of practice on how to keep a thick curtain draped over his innermost thoughts. He won’t let anyone see his weaknesses anymore, no matter how microscopic they might be.
When the older monster’s search turns up empty, he repents with a long sigh, waving his hands free of the whole affair. “Whatever, Harry. You seem to know what you’re doing. Just be careful, alright?”
“I do know what I’m doing, thank you.” Harry elects to ignore the last statement Mitch tacked on, and instead flips his laptop around to show his friend his findings with a triumphant—albeit, forced—grin. “I’m doing brunch. Google says girls Y/N’s age like brunch, and that the Persimmon Pantry in downtown L.A. has authentic crepes that are to die for.”
“Too bad you’re already dead.” The older vampire deadpans, pushing the laptop closed and raising himself from the couch into a standing position, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “If you’re going to be dating a mortal, do we get to meet her? Because I think Niall may need a bit of a heads up after the accidental run in that happened last time—”
“Do you usually meet my meals?” Harry counters easily as he sets his laptop aside, standing to escort Mitch to the door. “Don’t be sentimental, Mitch. I’m certainly not.”
When Mitch’s eyes meet his own once again, there’s a degree of clarity running through them that nearly stops Harry in his tracks. “Aren’t you?” Mitch asks, voice neutral by careful control.
Harry sucks in a quick breath out of habit, pasting a bright expression over his face in lieu of actually revealing his swirling insides. “Not since I learned my lesson.” He says easily, tapping two fingers over his dormant carotid artery with a sly smile.
The casual act does the trick, and Mitch’s eyes roll in a familiar jesting fashion as he steps towards the door. “Right. You’ve got it under control, then.”
“All under control.” The words slip off Harry’s dry tongue like honey, his sweet cadence filling the space between them. “Not to worry.”
///
Y/N thinks this may be the most out of control she’s ever felt her entire life.
A few weeks ago, she would’ve said that taking Harry home from the club was the most out of control she’s ever been. And three months ago, dropping her whole life and moving to L.A. might have been the answer to that question. And another three months from now, Y/N might get herself into the middle of a new entirely stupid act— which is completely probable, given her track record— and that’ll become the new marker for the most out of control thing she’s done. But right now, at this moment, the most out of control thing she’s done is say yes to Harry asking her out to brunch.
When compared to everything else she’s done with Harry—and let Harry do to her—brunch may seem entirely harmless, but it’s the connotation behind it that scares her. Harry is taking her on a date. A real date. A date to a brunch restaurant, at 11 A.M. on a Sunday, when it’ll be completely bright outside, and people will see them together. A date with both of them in presentable situations, rather than being coated in sweat and completely dressed. A date where Harry refrains from whispering the filthiest fucking shit Y/N has ever heard into her ear, although she wouldn’t put it past him trying to do that over a plate of avocado toast.
Harry is taking her on a date. And last time Y/N checked, she wasn’t exactly good at those.
Her ex hadn’t really been the romantic type, to say the least. Their dates typically revolved around their high school’s dance and athletic schedules. Bradley took her to homecoming and to prom, and football games on Friday nights, where all her friends would meet them at a diner after their school— more often than not— lost. He would take her on long drives where they got nowhere fast, with the two of them sitting in silence, and his music playing through the speakers. She went over to his house once a week for dinner. He’d take her to a movie every second Saturday. And while it was all fine, none of it was very romantic. ‘Robotic’ is a more appropriate term.
And even with the fear of actual romance aside, Y/N has no idea what to discuss on a first date with someone. She had already known a lot about her ex when they began going out, so there wasn’t a period of “getting to know you�� that needed to happen. The few first dates she’d had after him hadn’t been stellar, or even noteworthy. If anything, they had been guides for what not to do on a first date. And the funniest thing is that, while she’s fairly sure her last first date had been the catalyst for Harry asking her out, the actual date itself had been awful. But if she’s right, and that was the factor that set Harry off, then maybe she should be grateful for all those awful dates from her past, because Harry, in contrast to all those horrible dates, is different in every conceivable way.
Harry is just different. When she speaks, he listens. When he looks at her, he really looks at her, and he sees her in a way she’s not sure she’s ever been seen before. And, honestly, he has seen her in ways she’s never been seen before, and that’s exactly what Y/N is worried about. How do you sip a mimosa with someone at the Persimmon Pantry after they’ve throat fucked you on your couch, or bent you over the kitchen counter, or handcuffed you to their bed? How do you ask someone about their favourite movie when they’ve coaxed multiple orgasms from you over the phone as Sinister played from the TV screen? How do you listen as someone tells you about their childhood dog when the last dog you were concerned about was the position they bent you into as they spread your—
Y/N clears her throat and shakes her head of the thought, reevaluating her heated complexion in the mirror that hangs on the back of her bedroom door. “Stop it.” She mutters to herself, attempting to give her reflection a stern look. “You’re not going to be able to make it through this if you’ve thrown the towel in before Harry’s even picked you up.”
And that’s another thing, Y/N thinks, as she opens her bedroom closet and begins searching through it for something acceptable to wear. Harry insisted on picking her up, even though the restaurant he chose was a fifteen minute walk from her apartment. She’d brought this up to him when he asked her to brunch over the phone (which is a whole other thing in and of itself— he only called her when he had his hand wrapped around his cock and needed her voice to finish himself off; wouldn’t a text have been sufficient?), but Harry had blown off her concern without a second thought.
“Part of taking you on a date is picking you up, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but the Persimmon Pantry is between our apartments. Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet there? Then you wouldn’t waste your time driving past it to get me.”
“I don’t consider anything involving you to be a waste of time.” Harry had answered immediately, his voice stern, but still allowing a vein of tenderness to run underneath it. “Is that your only concern, then? Me picking you up?”
No, Y/N had thought. It’s not my only concern, but how the fuck do I explain everything else?
“Yeah.” Y/N had answered tightly, her voice weak. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, it’s not a concern of mine, so don’t worry. I’ll pick you up at 10:45 Sunday morning.” And then there had been a pause, full of baited breath and nerves, before Harry’s thick accent rang through her phone again. “I can’t wait to see you.”
Those parting words had sat in her stomach since, warm and cozy and inviting, keeping a soft, constant glow filtering in her veins until the end of the week came.
Y/N glances at the blinking clock beside her bed. It’s 10:17 now, a couple days after that conversation, which means she has less than half an hour to pick something to wear, style her hair that’s currently dripping wet from her shower, and throw on enough makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes that have been developing over the last few nights. After becoming so used to sleeping with Harry next to her every weekend, Y/N is now finding that not having him in her bed, smoothing her hair and rubbing her cheek as she cuddles into his cool chest is prohibiting her from getting a good night’s sleep.
Another concern, certainly, but not one she can deal with at this moment. The best she can do is smear on some concealer and hope for the best, and with that in mind, Y/N turns her full attention to her evaluation of her closet.
“Brunch,” She murmurs to herself, slowly pushing her clothing apart to examine each article. “We’re going to brunch. What do you wear to brunch?”
Brunch, she decides after a moment of consideration, is casual, but not sloppy casual, so jeans and a t-shirt are off the table. It’s Sunday casual, like the outfits her mother would pick out for her to wear to Sunday afternoon teas with the other church women once she turned 15 and had to “start acting like a lady.” Sunday casual, Y/N thinks, but maybe not those outfits. The raised necklines and starched collars had made her neck itch the entire time, and she had picked at the hemlines of her dresses under tables until the seams began to unravel. Sunday casual, but more of her actual style. Sunday casual, but sluttier, maybe? Could one describe Sunday casual as slutty?
Y/N groans as she takes a step back from her closet, clutching her towel to her chest with a tense hand. Maybe she’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe she should try to match Harry…?
A sharp snort falls from Y/N’s mouth. Yeah, like she could ever match Harry. Harry, who is so obsessed with labels that even his handcuffs are embossed with the Gucci logo. Harry, who is so attractive that it’s almost otherworldly. Harry, who can make her tiny apartment look like a New York Fashion Week runway by simply walking down the corridor of her entrance. Matching Harry is almost impossible. She could show up in a full length gown, and Harry would still outshine her in a graphic t-shirt and flared jeans.
“Hey.” Y/N chastises herself lightly, catching her judgemental eye in her mirror once again. “Stop it. Don’t be mean to yourself, just...just pick something to wear. It shouldn’t be this hard.”
After returning to her closet search and trying on a few different combinations, Y/N finally settles on an outfit consisting of a pale yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline and tea length skirt, but dresses it down with a denim jacket and a pair of cotton candy coloured vans. It’s bright and fun, but still casual enough that it looks like she just threw it on.
“Oh, this old thing?” Y/N raises her eyebrows in mock surprise as she moves to her bathroom to begin to tackle her hair. She keeps practicing the imaginary conversation in the mirror with herself, and while she knows she sounds insane, it oddly keeps her nerves in check. “Oh, I just pulled it out of my closet a few minutes before you got here. Haven’t worn it in years. Do you like it?” The mortal pauses as she reaches for her makeup, deciding to keep herself to a more natural look for the day. “Thank you, Harry, that’s so sweet. You look nice, as well.”
She lightly fills her brows before sweeping some neutral eyeshadow over her lids, pausing her muttering to herself to concentrate on drawing her eyeliner as neatly as she likes. Once she’s satisfied with that, she moves to mascara, adding a thin coat to her lashes and blotting off the makeup she smudges underneath her eye by mistake. When that’s finished, the young woman takes a step back from the mirror, appraising her appearance.
It’s not awful, honestly. She could do worse. In fact, if it weren’t for the ball of anxiety currently twisting its way through Y/N’s stomach, she might even praise herself for the cute and casual look she’s managed to pull off.
“You look good.” She murmurs to her reflection as she reaches for her small silver hoops, slipping them through her lobes with a quick and practiced motion. “Good job.” With her eyes locked on her reflection, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Today is going to be fine. Better than fine, actually. And it would probably go better if you stopped talking to yourself, so maybe let’s get that in check before Harry gets here—?”
As if on cue, a now familiar knock on her front door causes the mortal’s mouth to snap shut, clamping off the rest of her third person monologue. When she makes a quick pause to straighten her jacket and fetch her over-the-shoulder woven bag, Y/N impulsively decides to grab her favourite perfume bottle, giving her body a quick spritz before making her way to the door and opening it with breathless anticipation.
Harry, of course, looks fucking incredible. Although his casual outfit consists of a black short sleeved button up shirt tucked into white slacks, Harry manages to work the whole number like a model. His usual cross necklace, unique rings, and stately single cross earring adorn his body, drawing Y/N’s eyes to the glint of the metals as a pair of black sunglasses sit atop the man’s defined nose. He meets Y/N’s eyes behind them, a grin beginning to paint itself over his cherry lips as his jeweled hand pushes the sunglasses from his face and into his chestnut locks, revealing his bright jade gaze full of genuine kindness.
“Well, look at you. Proper model now, aren’t you, Miss Urban Outfitters?” Harry’s voice takes on a casual tone, but the flirty phrase sends a shiver of pleasure down Y/N’s spine. “You look so fucking good in yellow, love. Why have I never seen you in yellow before?”
The shiver of pleasure reverberates throughout Y/N’s entire body. “Maybe because I’m usually naked when I’m around you?” She retorts quickly, reaching to the little hook next to her door to grab her keys.
“Hm. That’s true.” The pleased cadence in Harry’s voice catches Y/N’s ear over the click of the door lock. “Guess you go for the Victoria’s Secret look more often, hm? Though I’m not complaining. You look just as good in lace.”
“Thanks. But not today, I guess.” Y/N says quietly as she pushes down the heat boiling her face, unable to bite her tongue before the words slip out. “We’re on a real date today.”
“Right you are, Watson.” Harry grins cheekily as he motions for the girl to walk past him, following closely with a guiding hand on the small of her back. “We’re on a real date. It’s probably a little overdue, but you know what they say...better late than never, right?”
The moment she takes a step past him, it hits Harry. Although her delectable signature scent of lavender and honey is still there, it’s faintly hidden behind the nearly overpowering scent of gardenia and freesia he smelled last time he was in her hallway, when that oafish buffoon had the audacity to try and seduce her. And despite the fact that Harry prefers Y/N’s natural fragrance to any other scent on the planet, knowing that she took the time to spritz herself with perfume before greeting him brings a dimpled smile to his face. Harry considers making a comment about it, but bites it back at the last moment. The last thing he needs is to have to explain why he pays such particular attention to Y/N’s scent.
When the pair exit the apartment building, Harry takes the lead in front of Y/N, unlocking his flashy car with a click of the remote and opening the passenger door with ease. He extends a hand, grasping the mortal girl’s hand in his own with care as he helps her into the car. The click of the car door shutting comes a moment later than expected as Harry pauses to fix the hem of Y/N’s dress, making sure it’s free of the doorway before closing the door without clamping the light fabric.
Harry doesn’t even think twice before readjusting Y/N’s skirt, with the move coming as naturally to him as breathing once did, and merely notes the stuttering of Y/N’s heartbeat with a half hidden smug smile. It’s not until he’s in the driver’s seat and stopped at a red light that he realizes what that stuttering rhythm is indicating.
Y/N is tense. Even without his supernatural abilities that allow him to hear her heart, register her strained breathing, and feel the energy radiating from her body, Harry would be able to tell that some part of her feels...uncomfortable. Nervous, even. But for what? What about Harry—aside from the obvious that the human is unaware of—could make her nervous? After the countless hours in bed together, the lazy Saturday afternoons, the kitchen singalongs, Harry would think that Y/N would be as comfortable with him as he is with her. After all she’d shown him when they have sex—
Huh. Maybe that’s it, Harry thinks, giving the mortal a quick look from the corner of his eye. The light ahead of them turns green, and Harry continues to ponder his realization as he presses on the gas. If sex has become the norm for them, then maybe a date is outside of her comfort zone. Or maybe, now that her brain isn’t fogged by the endorphins that roll through her veins whenever Harry coaxes an orgasm from her trembling body, Y/N is realizing how unnatural it feels to be around Harry.
As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, humans aren’t dumb. If they get too close to someone of Harry’s kind, some sharp-sighted mortals begin to sense that there’s something different about them. Aside from the easy targets and quick decisions, part of the reason that picking up meals in clubs works so well for Harry and his friends is that a mortal’s senses are dulled in the flashing lights and inebriated atmosphere of a club. If Y/N is beginning to sense that there’s something different about Harry, or if she’s beginning to feel uneasy about being around him, then she must be wondering why. In Harry’s experience, mortals will relate their uncomfortable feelings about the supernatural into something they have more experience with to make sense of it all, and if that’s what Y/N is doing, then she’s probably attributing her newfound discomfort towards Harry trying to take advantage of her. If he could read her mind, he might see a horrific scene playing out like an old movie: Harry buying her a meal, soaking her rational thinking in mimosas and other drinks spiked with God knows what, and then helping her back to his car, where he drives her back to his apartment, practically carrying her inebriated body through the door towards his bedroom…
The car takes a sharp right turn into the restaurant parking lot, and Harry guides it to a spot with his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. The idea of Y/N thinking him capable of that, capable of hurting her like that...it takes Harry a moment to extract his clenched hands from the wheel. If that was really what Y/N was thinking, then he could fix it. All it would take to set her at ease would be a quick request, a repeated statement, and the girl’s breathing would even out, and everything could continue like he had planned.
“Y/N?” He begins, keeping his voice as smooth as silk as he sets the car into park and turns it off. “Look at me, please.”
And then she does. And Harry forgets his plan within a moment.
There’s nervousness apparent in her eyes, yes, but no fear. Although her lips are chewed red, they don’t tremble when she answers him with a quiet “yes?” Despite their close proximity, she keeps leaning closer to him, and whether she’s aware of the action or not, the constant inch of her hand closer to Harry’s softens the immortal more than he thought possible. He can’t compel her to let down her guard when she already trusts him.
“I know that this is different for us. Doing something like this.” Harry begins, keeping his eyes as sincere as possible without compelling the young woman in front of him, who is keeping her eyes on his emerald irises with steadfast attention. “But I want this to be a proper date, like...like what I should’ve probably taken you on a month ago.”
Warmth rises to Y/N’s cheeks at the confession. “So do I. I like being around you, Harry. A lot. I’m just a little...nervous, I guess.”
Harry bites back a smile at how she sounds like she’s confessing something, as if her body language hasn’t been telling him that from the moment she got into his car. “I know. So I think it would be best, just to prove that this is a real date, if we don’t have sex after we finish brunch.”
A choked sound falls from Y/N’s mouth, and Harry delights in watching her scramble for words before she manages to form a half indignant reply. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep with you!”
“You don’t have to say it, pet, because we both know you can’t keep your hands off me. Exhibit A,” Harry nods at her hand, which is mere millimeters away from his thigh. “Being how you kept trying to grab onto me through the entire drive.”
Another gasp of indignation fills the car, and the emphasized outrage sets Harry at ease. He’d rather Y/N be equal parts annoyed and—if the soft look hidden behind her eyes is any clue—endeared than have her equal parts nervous and anxious. He’d take any anger directed at his expense if it meant she was at ease.
“I wasn’t trying to grab you.” The mortal mutters under her breath, her eyes falling from his as the increase of her heart pricks Harry’s ears. “That’s just where my hand fell naturally.”
“Right.” Harry answers in a disbelieving voice, his smirk growing as Y/N rolls her eyes in response. “Well, either way…” He extends a jeweled hand and grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying how her breath stutters as he turns her head to look at him. “What do you say? No sex after our date? Think we can behave ourselves?”
“I can.” Y/N answers, irritation laced through her voice to hide the desire settling between her words. “You, on the other hand...I doubt you’ll be able to keep it in your pants.”
A wry smile works it’s way over Harry’s lips, and the vampire wets them with his tongue as he uses his gentle grip on Y/N’s jaw to tilt her head forward. “I have wonderful self-control, darling.” He breathes the words, letting the scent of mint roll over Y/N’s face, and delights in the way it intoxicates her with every syllable. Harry ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw, smudging his kisses down her neck until he can feel her pulse thumping unevenly beneath his lips. His mouth opens just slightly as he leaves a lingering kiss on the area, his tongue gliding carefully over her sweet-scented skin.
Despite every instinct in his body telling him to sink his teeth into the beating pulse he feels and quench the thirst that burns in the back of his throat like a roaring fire, Harry manages to pull away. “See?” He murmurs softly, his cool breath still clouding Y/N’s every inhale. “Self control.”
While Harry is a master at withholding his desires, the effect his actions have on Y/N is apparent in her reply. “Good.” The mortal swallows thickly, her pulse fluttering again as Harry releases her chin and drags his fingers down her neck. “That’s good to know. So no sex, then.”
“Right.” Harry grins triumphantly as Y/N attempts to collect herself. The smug expression on Harry’s face lets her know that he’s completely aware of the impact he has on her, and it drives her insane to no end. Although her conscience is urging her to play his game, and do her best to fluster him as he flusters her, the more rational part of her stops that thought in its tracks. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To open herself up again, to open herself up to Harry in a way she hasn’t before? To prove that she can let someone know her without burrowing themselves between her thighs?
The latch of her car door brings her from her thoughts, and her head jerks to the right to see Harry with one hand on the door handle as he extends the other to her to help her from the car. Y/N, still fumbling with her seatbelt, takes a moment to grasp his hand in return, too swept up in the fact that Harry remembers to open her door to ponder how he always reaches her side of the car so quickly.
However, there are some new developments that don’t slip from her attention, like how Harry keeps her hand grasped firmly in his icy grip even after she’s out of the car, pausing only to click the lock on his keyring before walking with her towards the door. Or how, despite his long legs, he never falls out of step with Y/N, making sure to keep his strides measured and even so as not to yank on her hand. Or how, even though her hand is already half extended out of habit, Harry reaches the door of the restaurant first, opening it smoothly and stepping back, gently laying his hand on the small of Y/N’s back to guide her inside the restaurant.
“Uh, thanks.” The young woman murmurs to him, a tone of perplexity running beneath her words. She’s not quite sure why all of this surprises her; hadn’t Harry already proved that, despite his harsh and suggestive exterior, there’s an undercurrent of manners instilled into him?
Maybe, she thinks as she watches Harry step forward to the restaurant host, the surprise and confusion is due to the lack of manners she received from her ex. Despite the “small town charm,” as her mother had called it, Bradley had lacked the ability to successfully perform any gallantry, and any attempts he made to do so had only annoyed Y/N. Whenever he tried to do something that may fall into that category, like insisting on driving everywhere they went, or choosing where they’d go for dinner, Y/N never felt that the actions came from a place of protection or chivalry; on the contrary, Y/N felt like each action was taken on the basis that she herself was incapable of doing the same things Bradley did. On the one occasion she’d brought it up to him, he had scoffed, and argued that he was just trying to be a nice guy, and why would she have a problem with him trying to help her, and if she was going to complain, then he wouldn’t—
An icy touch to the dip of her back jerks Y/N from her thoughts, both metaphorically and literally as her body spasms away from the touch. Upon hearing the alarmed gasp that falls from her lips, Harry turns his head to the side, a look of concern painted over his face.
“Everything alright, darling?” He asks in a quiet voice, his hand retracting from her back with uncertainty.
“Yeah, sorry, just—caught up in thought, I guess.” Y/N covers quickly, giving him an apologetic smile. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
If the way the mortal shivers is any suggestion, Harry can guess what exactly about his touch took her by surprise. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, his fingers hovering a few millimeters above the fabric of her dress. “The, uh, the table I reserved is just on the patio around the corner.” Although he lays his hand on Y/N once again to guide her, Harry is careful to place his palm further up her spine, where the sensitive skin of her back is covered by her jean jacket in addition to the thin yellow sundress. As much as he usually adores making her shiver, there’s something different about the action when he knows it’s because of his inhumanly cold touch, instead of his inhuman ability to pleasure her.
The pair move in a line, following the hostess in a beeline through the busy restaurant and out onto the sunlit patio, where there are fewer occupied tables. Stopping in front of a table partly shaded under an umbrella that’s away from the other diners, the hostess turns to the two of them, her eyes flickering over Harry once again.
“Is this table to your liking, Mr. Styles?” She asks, her voice sweet as sugar. The stickiness of it grates against Y/N’s skin, but Harry gives no indication of finding it irritating. In fact, he seems to give hardly any notice to the hostess at all, only half glancing at her before nodding his head.
“Yes, it is, thank you.” He steps out to the side, grasping the back of the chair facing away from the sun and pulling it out. It takes Y/N a moment and a half step already taken towards the opposite chair for her to realize that he’s pulling it out for her.
“Oh—” Face flushing with realization, Y/N steps back around Harry, settling down into the offered seat as he carefully pushes it in. “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Harry replies, pausing to be sure she’s comfortable before taking his own seat across from her. The hostess, who had been watching his actions with a keen eye, gives another smile to the vampire.
“Alright, Paige will be your server today, but before I leave,” The hostess spares a short glimpse at Y/N before turning her full attention back to Harry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
The creature is aware of the effect he has on mortals, and has been since he was first turned. While he normally plays that to his advantage (and while that was, to be frank, part of the reason he was able to take Y/N home from the club the night he met her), the attention is beginning to grind against his nerves. It’s easy enough for him to ignore a human, especially one he has no interest in whatsoever, but he can see the way Y/N notices the hostess’ preference for addressing Harry. More specifically, Harry can see the way it bothers her, and it would be amusing if his jealousy over Y/N going on a date with someone else hadn’t been the catalyst to their date today.
“No, that’s alright.” Harry finally responds to the waitress, glancing at her just enough so as not to be rude. “Thank you.”
The hostess smiles at him again before nodding to Y/N and turning on her heel, marching back towards the kitchen, and it takes just a soft snort falling from Y/N’s lips to pull Harry’s attention completely back to her.
“What?” He quirks an eyebrow up at the noise, reaching for the menu in front of him and flipping it open slowly. “Something funny?”
Y/N gives a small shake of her head as she mimics Harry’s action, casting her eyes downwards towards the now revealed menu. “No, not at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” The vampire reaches across the table to touch his date’s hand, flipping her arm carefully so he can lay two ringed fingers against the thin skin of her wrist, the fragile hummingbird flutter of her heart thumping beneath it. “And I’m too excellent at reading people to let it go.”
“Too stubborn, you mean?” Y/N corrects him as she raises her own brow, but much to Harry’s delight, she doesn’t pull back from his icy touch as she did earlier.
Harry shrugs lightly, an unconcerned air tinting his attitude. “If that’s what you’d like to call it. Either way, I’d like to know why you’re laughing at me.”
The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek, the action of her weighing her next words clearly written all over her face. “You seriously can’t tell me you don’t notice it.”
Cocking his head to the side, Harry gently yet consistently continues to stroke two fingers over Y/N’s velvety skin, the heat of her veins burning beneath his touch. “Notice what?”
Although she opens her mouth, Y/N’s reply is cut off by the clicking of high heels approaching their secluded corner, and it’s only a moment before a waitress (whom she assumes is Paige) is standing in front of their table. Like her coworker before her, Paige gives a brief hello to Y/N before turning all of her attention to Harry, smiling brightly at him as she gives her opening spiel.
“Hi! My name is Paige, and I’ll be your server today. Can I get some drinks started for you?” She asks, her hands clasped tightly in front of her (Y/N always hates when servers don’t write down orders; she knows it looks impressive, but the attention it takes to remember exact specifications gives her secondhand anxiety) as she addresses Harry.
The order is right at the tip of Harry’s tongue. “We’ll have two mimosas, please. And two ice waters, as well.” He replies, smiling briefly at her as his fingers continue to glide over Y/N’s wrist. The girl catches the way Paige’s eyes flicker to the movement, her (just barely) professional smile shifting for a fraction of a second before fixing itself, and while Y/N knows that it’s irrational, a small part of her can’t help but be pleased.
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back with those.” She chimes giddily, her heels clicking against the ground once more as she walks away.
The moment she’s left, Harry has his full attention turned back to Y/N. “You didn’t answer my question.” He murmurs, his emerald eyes alight with curiosity. “Notice what?”
An exasperated sigh sounds from Y/N as she makes a face. “The way they stare at you.” She answers, jerking her head over her shoulder towards the restaurant door. “The hostess, the server—they were both practically undressing you with their eyes. Are you telling me you didn’t notice that?”
Harry’s curious expression drops as he begins to shift in his seat, the stroking of his fingers over her wrist pausing for just one moment. Ah, Y/N thinks. Here it is. A confession that, yes, Harry did notice it, and Harry (and his ego) loved the attention, and he—
“I noticed it, yeah.” He begins, a reluctant look painting itself onto his statuesque features as a finger on his free hand rubs over his lion head ring.
A glum feeling of satisfaction settles into Y/N’s stomach, and she pulls her hand back a few inches, completely removing it from Harry’s grasp. “I thought so—”
“But I didn’t see the point in mentioning it.” Harry continues, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m here with you. Why would a spare look from a hostess or a server be anything but inconsequential to me?”
Huh.
“I…” For once, Y/N is stunned into silence. “Well, I just thought—”
“Y/N.” Her name sounds like a melody when it falls from Harry’s mouth, and the sincerity layered in his voice makes her snap her eyes to his. “Do you truly think I would flirt with a waitress on a date I asked you on? Does that sound like me?”
“Well, honestly…” Harry’s stare bores into hers, prickling Y/N’s skin with the new and nearly uncomfortable sensation of being seen. “I don’t want to think so, but considering how we met…”
“Ah.” Harry’s lips turn down into a small grimace, but quickly right themselves as he once again grasps her hand in his two large palms. “I won’t pretend that I’m not a bit of a—”
“Whore?”
Harry’s lip twitches in amusement again at the blatant tone of the girl’s voice. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about you slut-shaming me?”
The flush that overtakes Y/N’s face indicates that she remembers. “Yes, we did. But I seem to recall you agreeing. After you teased me for it, of course.”
“Of course. We both know how much you love teasing.” Harry digs his nails ever so slightly into her wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull a small gasp from her mouth as his grip begins to mimic the handcuffs that she had begged him to use on her. “But all that aside...I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what they think of me. I’m here with you. Despite most of my flaws, my mother raised me right. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
The thunderous thumping of Y/N’s heart rings through Harry’s ears, a constant reminder of why he’s here. Beneath her soft skin, beneath every telltale mark and scar, beneath her glittering eyes and silky lips, there’s the thing that keeps Harry alive. Rushing through this girl’s arteries is the sustenance that Harry needs to survive, the sweetest liquid he’s ever consumed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it at his beck and call. If being the gentleman of Y/N’s dreams is what will keep her available for him, then that’s what he’ll do. The pounding of her heart is the beat that keeps him in time with the tune of his life. It’s nothing more and nothing less.
Still, Harry chooses his next words attentively, to bring back a joking manner to the conversation. “Someone must have done a number on you, huh? Was everything not so charming in Smalltown, USA? Did your parents split when you were a kid?”
And although Harry asks the questions with a smirk on his face, laughter in his voice, and mirth in his eyes, he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest, how her hand tenses beneath his, and how her eyes drop for a fraction of a second. He’s touched a nerve, one that is obviously frayed and hurting, and the regret that instantly washes over him is tinged with the confusion of how he’s capable of feeling such an emotion so intensely.
“Um—” While Y/N knew that she had to tell Harry about her disastrous dating history sooner or later, she had really hoped it would be later rather than sooner. Is a discussion about one’s scumbag ex appropriate first date talk? Can she bring it up now, or should she wait until they’ve finished their appetizers?
“Alright, so I have two mimosas and two waters for you…” Paige’s return distracts Y/N from her dilemma for just a moment as the server sets down the four glasses in front of the respective recipients. With her attention turned back to Harry, she takes a step back from the table. “Are you ready to order?”
Y/N’s eyes snap to the open menu in front of her, which had become the least of her concerns over the last few minutes. “Oh, I haven’t—”
“We’ll get two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, please.” Harry closes his menu before reaching for Y/N’s and repeating the motion, handing them back to Paige with a charming yet neutral smile. “And a side of hashbrowns, please, to share.”
Brow furrowing as the server scurries away without giving her a second glance, Y/N gapes at Harry, her voice wrought with confusion. “Why did you order for me?”
Harry raises his mimosa to his lips and takes a long sip, setting the condensation-covered glass back down on the table before replying. “You didn’t know what you wanted, and the crepes are delicious. Did you want something else?” With a lick of his red lips, he glances over his shoulder. “I can call her back if—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Y/N wraps her hand around the alcoholic drink, swirling her finger over the cold glass. “I can order for myself. I’m a grown woman. Do you think I’m not capable or something?”
Harry cocks his head to the side, appraising how the mortal’s expression is closing off with every passing moment. This bothers her, he realizes. The idea of him not thinking she’s capable of something bothers her, enough that she’s clenching her glass, and her normally clear eyes are swirling with anger more and more with every passing moment.
“I know you’re capable, Y/N. I just thought that…” Shifting in his seat, Harry clears his throat as he gathers his words in his mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking the questions? “It’s supposed to be polite.”
“In what century?” She replies, her mouth falling agape in surprise as her eyes widen. “Men used to order for women because women weren’t allowed to, right? Because men made the decisions? Holding open a door is one thing, but choosing for me—”
“Okay, maybe choosing for you was impolite. I thought you were unsure on what to order, but I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry.” Harry half mumbles the apology as an uncomfortable feeling of shame begins to buzz in his stomach. “But the ordering thing, that— men did that as a sign of respect, so women wouldn’t have to talk to someone they didn’t know. I really didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. My mum just taught me that it was polite, so I...it’s a habit. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He watches as Y/N chews her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating the authenticness of his apology. Everything he had said was true, of course. His mother did teach him that it was polite to order something for a date so she wouldn’t have to speak to someone she doesn’t know. Of course, it was also true that the practice had died out a century ago, and most women now preferred to speak for themselves. Harry can’t begrudge Y/N if she dislikes what he did; she’s proved time and time again that she can be rather independent. However, Harry’s surprised at the disappointment he feels about her reaction. If this is going to be a proper date, he’d like to hold it up to his standards of proper.
“Alright.” The mortal says after a moment, releasing her lip from her teeth and finally raising her mimosa to her mouth. “You’re forgiven. But I think I’ve earned the right to compensation for your assumptions.”
“Compensation could be arranged, I suppose.” Harry leans forward with a sly grin, his fingers finding the delicate skin of Y/N’s wrist once more. “I feel like I’ve been fairly firm on the no sex thing, but I could pencil you in for some compensation tomorrow evening, if that works for you.”
Y/N swirls the liquid in her glass as she bites back a smirk. “I was thinking of something a little different than an orgasm, actually.”
“What could possibly be better than an orgasm given by me?” Harry questions, his free hand fingering the cross around his neck. “Didn’t you once compare them to a gift from God?”
“I don’t recall ever saying that, actually.” The mortal girl replies in a dry voice, setting her glass down with a decisive thunk. “I don’t want an orgasm—”
“Oh, that’s a bloody lie—”
“I want information.” Tapping her fingers against the table, Y/N stares Harry down with firm eyes. “Like where did you grow up that your mother taught you it was appropriate to speak for a woman? Or why have you avoided any personal questions I’ve tried to ask over the last month?”
Harry retracts his hand from Y/N’s wrist as she voices her inquisition, settling his fingers on the rim of his mimosa to begin tracing the smooth glass. “To be fair, pet, you haven’t asked many personal questions. You’ve been too busy bouncing on my cock, haven’t you?”
“Maybe, but I won’t be today, as per our agreement.” Y/N steeps her fingers together as she leans towards him, the comical sight of her posture forcing Harry to repress a snort. “And you brought up personal questions first, Holmes. So you kind of screwed yourself, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did. I’ve gotten so used to you doing the screwing, Watson. Guess I’m getting sloppy— although you seem to like that.” Harry can’t help but get in one last dig before conceding, taking a long gulp of his beverage before smacking his lips. “I’ll tell you what.” He says, pointing a jeweled finger at his date with his glass still wrapped tightly in his hand. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Pursing her lips, Y/N quirks up an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Let’s play a little question game.” Harry sets down his glass as he elaborates, his signature smirk growing over his cherry lips. “We alternate questions back and forth, asking whatever we’ve wanted to know. And the other person has to answer it honestly.”
Or as honestly as possible, Harry amends in his head. For obvious reasons, he’ll have to fabricate the majority of his answers, but that’s nothing new to him. Over the years, he’s had to create multiple spiels about his childhood, taking tiny pieces of truths and weaving them together with updated lies. Spitting out a few standard stories about where he grew up and why he left London is small change compared to his burning desire to know more about Y/N’s past.
The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek again, weighing her options in her head as she holds Harry’s questioning stare. As much as she hates to discuss her life story, and as much as she’d been hoping to hide it from Harry, she knows that she has to be honest with him if she wants him to be honest with her. As awkward as it may be, she’ll have to tell the stories sometime.
“Alright.” She relents after a moment, blowing out a harsh breath and lifting her mimosa to her lips. “But I get to ask the first question. Ladies first, and all that.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry flashes a cheeky grin at her, his left eye dropping into a quick wink. “Start your inquisition, Watson.”
Harry’s been in this position millions of times, so he knows the types of questions that are about to tumble from Y/N’s pretty lips. She’ll start off by asking where he grew up, and where he went to school, and how many siblings he has, before moving to things like why he moved to L.A., and how he made friends, and—
“What else did your mother teach you, besides manners?” Y/N asks suddenly, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop of liquid on her bottom lip as she lowers her glass. “And what was the most important thing?”
The nature of the question catches Harry so off guard that he doesn’t remember to quell the throb in his chest where his heart used to beat at the mention of his mother, and the old half healed wound flares with pain. What had his mother taught him? Harry ponders the question as Y/N’s curious eyes ponder him. What hadn’t she taught him?
“My mother taught me…many things. Many good things. She was a wonderful woman.” Harry begins honestly, albeit carefully, speaking in a measured voice as his eyes fall to her opal ring that sits upon his pinky. “She taught me how to read as a child, before I began school. She taught me...she taught me how to cook a bit. I’m not nearly as good as she was, but I’m passable. And yes, she did teach me how to behave around women, how to be respectful. But the most important thing…”
Y/N watches as Harry’s eyes bore into the ring on his finger, as if he’s staring into a crystal ball of the past to search for an answer. Perhaps, in a way, he is.
“The most important thing,” Harry repeats again, his eyes finally snapping away from the entrapment of the ring. “Was how to let someone know you appreciate them. It’s easy, I think, to go about your day without telling someone you care for them.” Stroking his thumb over the band of the ring, Harry thinks back to the countless ways his mother had wordlessly shown Harry and his sister how much she adored them. “Little touches, or little favours, things like that— those go a long way. They help someone feel less alone. They can be the difference between a good day and a bad day. She used to, um,” A lump suddenly develops in his throat, and Harry struggles to swallow it down as he voices a memory he hasn’t spoken aloud in over a century. “She used to comb her fingers through my hair when I was a little boy, whenever I was upset. I’d come home from—“ Harry cuts himself off before he mentions his father’s blacksmith forge, where he was an apprentice. “—from school, and she would take one look at me and be able to see I was frustrated. She always sat in this big chair in front of the fireplace, and she’d pat her lap, and I’d sit in front of her knees and lay my head on her leg, and she’d card her fingers through my hair as I told her every bad thing that happened that day.” Unconsciously, Harry raises his own hand to his chestnut curls, raking his fingers through them. The motion doesn’t bring nearly as much comfort as it once did. “She always listened. She never made me feel like my problems were silly. She just listened. It made me feel better. Made me feel…” The vampire’s hand drifts from his hair to his lips, rubbing over them pensively. “Loved.”
The mortal girl’s eyes soften as she listens to the memories of the man in front of her, who begins to look younger and younger with every word that falls from his lips. Although she’s surprised by the candor of his answer, it pleases her; she thought pulling truths from Harry would be like pulling teeth. One note of his story, however, catches her attention with an ache.
“You said...you said she was a wonderful woman.” Y/N murmurs, carefully gauging Harry’s reaction to the question. “Is she...not anymore?”
“I’m sure she would be, but she passed away a…a while ago.” Harry’s eyes shift to the ring again, the dainty band with its opal stone standing out from the rest of his chunky jewelry. Y/N wonders if that’s because it once belonged to someone else. “She got sick, and couldn’t get better.”
With a careful but tender motion, Y/N slides her hand across the table and settles it on top of Harry’s, cupping his larger hand in her smaller grasp. “I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in her voice snags Harry’s attention, and the vampire looks up to find the mortal staring at him with understanding eyes. “I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you. You must miss her very much.”
It takes Harry a moment to clear the lump from his throat enough that he can choke out a response. “I-I do, yeah. Every day.” He’s not sure if it’s his icy skin or the burn of Y/N’s touch, but he slowly pulls his hand from beneath her grasp, reaching for his glass of ice water instead. He gulps down half the liquid, setting the cup down with a decisive thunk before pasting a strained smile onto his face. “But that’s enough of my sob story, don’t you think? It’s my turn to ask a question.”
A small frown works its way over Y/N’s face as Harry pulls away, and she clasps her now empty hands together around the stem of her mimosa glass. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“The answer to my previous inquiry.” Harry’s emerald irises sweep over her figure, his tongue poking between his teeth as his simper becomes more genuine. “Someone must’ve really done a number on you if opening a door for you is a shock. What’s the story there?”
Although she knew that this would be Harry’s first question, Y/N still bides her time by knocking back the rest of her mimosa in one swift gulp, wrinkling her nose at the lingering taste that catches in the back of her throat. “His name was Bradley.” She begins, tapping a fingernail against the delicate glass. “And he—”
“So sorry to cut you off, darling, but,” Harry raises a finger to pause her speech, his rings glinting in the L.A. sun. “Bradley? You fucked someone named Bradley?”
“It was a small town! It’s not like I had many options!” Y/N argues hotly, her eyes rolling harder than they ever have before. “Now are you going to be quiet and listen politely, or are you going to keep interrupting me before I can even begin?”
Harry laughs once, shaking his head with an amused air. “Sorry. Continue.” Despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, Harry raises a hand to the corner of his mouth, pretending to lock it shut with an imaginary key. He even takes care to slide the invisible key into his shirt pocket, patting it with satisfaction once the deed is done.
Y/N takes one more moment to glare at him, but Harry’s newfound silence continues, and so she does, as well. “His name was Bradley. I met him through a mutual friend in our freshman year of high school. I’d seen him around before, but we’d never talked, really. And after he asked me to Homecoming, he just kind of…stuck.” The girl shrugs in a way of explanation. “Like, he started coming around more to my house, taking me out to movies. And it was nice. The attention, I mean. There was no one else I was really interested in at school, and Bradley was cute, and he was friendly, and our families really liked each other. It made sense.”
As she speaks, a crease works its way between Harry’s perfectly sculpted brows. Most mortal romances, he’s come to find, are rather dull, but this one seems more boring than others, and he can’t stop himself from raising his jeweled hand in the air as if he were in one of the classes Y/N mentioned, waiting for the teacher to call on him for an answer.
When Y/N notices the hand, an exasperated sigh falls from her mouth, but she leans across the table and retrieves the imaginary key from Harry’s shirt pocket, her warm fingers leaving pinpricks of fire across his chest. A small smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as those warm fingers touch the lifted spot, mimicking an unlocking motion before she sits back in her seat. “Yes?”
Harry rests a bent elbow on the table, propping his chin up on his fist as he leans forward. “I have a question.” He begins innocently, watching as Y/N narrows her eyes at his sudden polite intrigue.
“Yes?” She repeats again, wariness written into her tone as she evaluated the suspicious air of Harry’s behaviour.
“I was just wondering how big Bradley’s dick is.” Harry’s grin grows to wicked proportions as Y/N’s mouth falls open in shock. “Because, honestly, he doesn’t seem to have that much going for him, and I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why you dated him, and the only answer I can come up with is—“
“That his dick must be huge?”
“That he’s well endowed, yes.” Harry finishes smugly, tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m curious. Are we talking about a carrot? A cucumber? A zucchini?” Lip twitching again, Harry stifles a laugh as Y/N’s face hardens with exasperation. “A stalk of celery? I suppose the length could be a selling point, but if there’s not enough girth to fill you—”
“His dick wasn’t the reason I dated him.” Y/N replies flatly, a deadpan stare meeting Harry’s mirth filled eyes. “Although, since you’re curious…it was the size of a cucumber, but not an English cucumber. More of a garden variety. Not incredibly girthy, but good for a beginner.”
“A beginner?” Intrigue sparks at the pit of Harry’s belly (along with what he thinks is jealousy, but he’ll wait to dissect that at a later date) as the vampire leans forward more. “This bloke was your first?”
“We were together for years, so—” Y/N cuts herself off with a shake of her head, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger nervously. “No, wait, that’s another question! You don’t get another question if I didn’t!”
“But you haven’t finished answering my first question—”
“I would if you’d stop interrupting!” Silencing Harry with a stern look, Y/N holds up her left hand, pinching two of her fingers together. “Do I need to pretend to lock your mouth again like I would a seven year old, or can you sit and listen like an adult for five minutes? What happened to that old fashioned chivalry from earlier?”
Harry lets out a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair with proper posture. He takes a moment to adjust himself, straightening his back, fixing the fall of his shirt, adjusting his cross, planting his feet on the ground of the patio, and finishing off the show by rolling out his shoulders before squaring them. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m ready to listen. Please continue.”
The young woman inhales deeply, testing Harry’s rapt attention as she takes her time sipping her ice water. When she sets the glass down and finds that Harry has stayed perfectly still, his irises glued to her, she continues.
“So Bradley and I got together our freshman year, and stayed together for the rest of high school. It was comfortable. His mom liked me, and my parents liked him. He came to church with us—” Y/N notes that Harry’s eyebrow lifts a quarter of an inch, but only for a moment before dropping back down into its neutral state. “—and he and I went out once or twice a week. He was…nice. But he didn’t do the stuff that you do, the…etiquette stuff.” She taps an index finger against the table, thinking back to all the movie and diner dates that have blurred together in her mind. “Well, he’d try, I suppose, but not in the way you do. Whenever he did something that was supposed to be chivalrous or gallant, it felt like he was doing it because he thought I was incapable. And when I brought it up, he got mad.” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shy shrug as she smiles apologetically at Harry. “That’s why I didn’t understand you ordering for me. I know you didn’t mean it in the way he did, I can tell that, but it just kind of…reminded me of him. It left a bad taste in my mouth; he left a bad taste in my mouth, I guess.”
A beat of silence falls between them, and the intense way that Harry is looking at her is prickling the hair on the back of Y/N’s neck.
“I get that.” The brunette speaks after a moment, voice low and accent thick. “Being haunted by someone. Even after they’re gone, even after time passes…something can remind you of them, and it can be enough to bring you to your knees.”
Although Harry’s eyes are locked on hers, Y/N has the distinct feeling that he’s seeing someone else in her place. Before she can ask what he means, however, he’s blinked himself out of the self-imposed trance.
“So what was the final straw?” Harry clears his throat quietly as his mind comes back to the present. “Between you and Cucumber Dick?”
A tiny giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth despite her far from humorous answer. “Well—”
The telltale clicking of heels interrupts the unspoken thought, and within a moment, Paige is standing next to their table once again, a tray balanced on her hand with precision as she offers another one of her smiles to Harry. “Here you go—two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, and a side of hash browns.” The server sets the first plate down in front of Harry, but he quickly lifts it again and sets it down carefully in front of Y/N before accepting the second dish. He repeats the motions with the hash browns, sliding them to the middle of the table and within Y/N’s reach.
“Thank you.” Harry speaks with a kind tone, but offers no other comment to the girl, who’s allowed her eyes to slide to the dark ink that decorates Harry’s arms.
“Of course.” Paige stutters, giving no pretense of paying attention to Y/N. “Could I get you anything else?”
Harry glances at Y/N’s empty mimosa glass, raising an eyebrow in question. “Would you like another drink?” He asks her slowly, his voice unsure. Normally, he’d just order a second one for her without a thought, but now that he knows how she feels about him ordering for her, he’ll have to work on beating back that particular bit of Victorian etiquette.
“I would, yes.” Y/N replies with a smile as she touches the stem of her empty glass. “Thank you.”
A strained smile flickers over Paige’s lips. “No problem. I’ll be right back.”
Harry nods in satisfaction as he watches the server retreat. “There. We have a few more minutes. Keep talking.”
“Ah ah ah.” Y/N picks up her fork and sticks it into the hash browns, pulling away a crispy bite for herself. “I think I get to ask a question now, especially since you’ve crammed a few different inquiries into your last turn.”
“And here I was, thinking you loved when I crammed things into—”
“Harry.”
A teasing smile breaks across the vampire’s face, more genuine than Harry thought possible. “Fine.” He relents, cutting the corner off his crepes and popping the savory bite into his mouth. “What else would you like to know?”
Where to begin? Y/N considers his question pensively as she takes a bite of her own crepe, her expression raising in surprise when she finds that she enjoys Harry’s entrée choice. The smokiness and spice of the chorizo is undercut by the tangy saltiness of the cheese, all wrapped together with a few garnishes in the perfectly cooked crepe. Savoring the bite as she chews, Y/N begins to run through the list of questions in her head.
She could ask more about his family, but if the aching sadness that had radiated off of him at the mention of his mother was any hint, any answers Harry could give on that topic may be off tone for a first date. And while inquiring about what he said before, about being haunted by someone seems promising, it may also be a bit too much. As much as she dislikes talking about her personal life, she gets the feeling that Harry absolutely abhors it, and while she was surprised about him asking her on a date, she’s been even more surprised to find herself enjoying it. The last thing she needs is to fuck that all up by interrogating him about an ex.
With those two possibilities pushed aside, only one burning question is left on the tip of Y/N’s tongue, and she hurriedly swallows her mouthful of crepe before letting it fall. “Alright, I’ve got it.” Cocking her head to the side, Y/N points her fork at the man in an accusatory manner. “Did you ask me out on this date just because you were jealous I was out with Jacob? Was that the only reason? Because you saw me with him, and you didn’t like it?”
Harry wraps his ringed hand around his water glass, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the surface as he pulls a face. Even if he wanted to be honest with Y/N about this, Harry isn’t quite sure what the honest answer would be.
“I’ll admit, I was a little…bothered by it.” Reluctance is threaded through every word that Harry manages to spit out. “Moreso by your taste in men than anything else— Jacob wasn’t exactly up to par.”
“It wasn’t like I chose him myself.” Y/N retorts, pulling a grape from the bunch of side fruit on her plate and popping it into her mouth. “Was that really all that bothered you? That he wasn’t up to par?”
Tapping his fingers against the wooden table, Harry takes a moment to ponder the question. “No.” He says finally, deciding to continue his honesty streak. “No, that wasn’t all that bothered me. You’re right, I didn’t like seeing you with him, but it wasn’t because of him. Not entirely, anyways. I can’t imagine I would’ve liked seeing you with anyone.”
A light flush works its way over the mortal’s cheeks, and Harry can hear the stuttered thumping of her heart. “Why?” She asks in a half whisper, her teeth worrying her bottom lip unconsciously. “Why is that?”
Harry muses the various answers he could give as Paige brings them refills on their mimosas. It’s not like he can tell her that he wants to keep her available for snacking whenever he gets a little thirsty. Well, he could, but then he’d have to wipe her mind, and he’s not particularly inclined to do that at the moment. And, if he’s being honest with himself…he’s not entirely sure that’s the truth anymore. Is sheer convenience the reason behind his terrible reaction to Y/N seeing someone else? Or is that reaction linked to the way he felt when she opened her door to him that morning, and the sight of her all dolled up for him hit him like a truck?
Either way, none of those answers are suitable to confess in the moment, so Harry merely gives a dimpled grin. “That’s another question, darling. We’re not very good at limiting ourselves, are we?”
“I suppose not, no.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as she takes a sip of her fresh mimosa, her eyes watching Harry over the rim of the glass. “Your turn, then. What else do you want to know?”
What else would he like to know? Harry thinks, taking another bite of chorizo as he mulls over the question. Now that the floodgates have opened, now that he has the opportunity, now that he has the ability to ask, Harry wants to know everything. He wants to know what makes Y/N tick, what her pet peeves are, and if she prefers mornings or nights. He wants to know what her favourite school subject was, if she was ever in her school’s plays, or on any of the sports teams. He wants to know her favourite flavour of ice cream, what TV shows she binge watches when she wants to distract herself, and if she’s really read all those books that line the floor to ceiling shelf in her room. He wants to know her, he realizes. She’s more fascinating than he ever thought possible, and her blood is more addicting than he knew. He wants to know every aspect that molded her into the person sitting before him. And one of those aspects is—
“Why did things end between you and Bradley?” He finally asks, his voice low and cautious. “Was it mutual, or...?”
Despite the time Harry took to think of his question, Y/N knew exactly what it was going to be, and she has her answer ready to go the moment the words roll from Harry’s pillowy lips. “He was cheating on me.” She admits with a sigh, her eyes glued to her mimosa glass as she swirls the orange liquid within it. “He went away for university, and I stayed home. I guess he met someone at school.” Allowing her eyes to flick up to Harry for a moment, Y/N finds the man staring at her blankly with a harsh crease between his brows. “I kind of thought it was going to end, honestly. He began to get more and more distant...we’d talk less over Skype or the phone...but I didn’t think he’d…” She trails off for a moment, thinking back to the day she found out. “Well. He did. I found out from his roommate, and the next day, he and I were through. And almost five years of memories, time together, shared moments...all of that was just gone.”
Although it’s been years since things ended, and Y/N has moved on in tenfold, she can’t help the way her voice aches at the end of her explanation, which acts as proof of how the raw wound had healed in a way that wasn’t quite right. No matter how much time passes, no matter how many people she’s been with, no matter how little she cares for Bradley now...nothing will change the fact that he hurt her. Nothing will mend the jagged scar he created. Sure, it may fade with time, but it’ll never disappear completely. And as much as Y/N hates that Bradley still has an effect on her after all this time, she can’t change it. She’s tried.
“That…” Harry’s cool hand wrapping around her own drags her back to the present, and she lifts her eyes to find the man staring at her with the most tender expression she’s ever seen his sculpted face wear. “That’s awful, Y/N. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“It’s—it’s fine. Really.” Y/N half mumbles the words, distracted by the small circles Harry’s thumb is rubbing against the bone of her wrist.
Chestnut curls swaying, Harry adamantly shakes his head, the crease between his brows deepening with each passing moment. “Don’t. It’s not fine. You don’t have to make excuses for someone who hurt you.”
“I’m not making an excuse, I just—”
“Did he hurt you?” Harry’s jade irises fixate on her own with determination. “Yes or no?”
Once Y/N locks her eyes with Harry, she can’t look away. His gaze nears hypnotic the more she looks. “Yes. He hurt me.”
“Then he doesn’t deserve you making excuses for him.” The vampire squeezes her hand to emphasize his answer. Although he’s not compelling her to understand him, Harry looks at her with an unfamiliar sincerity that he hopes makes the depth of his words resonate within her. “You may be fine now, or you may not be, but the situation itself wasn’t fine. Don’t use your healing as an excuse for his behaviour. You shouldn’t have had to heal yourself in the first place.”
The gravity of his words rings in Y/N’s ears, and the girl gapes at him for a moment, her mouth half open in shock, before the realization of what he’s saying hits her. The way he’s staring at her…it’s nearly uncomfortable, the way he sees her. She almost can’t bear it. How does he know to say exactly what she needs to hear, even if she doesn’t know she needs to hear it? Since the first night they slept together, when he reassured her that she could relax and let loose, Harry has been honest and reassuring. And although Y/N has greatly appreciated that trait in the bedroom, when she’s been at her most vulnerable in a physical aspect…her eyes lock with Harry’s once more, finding them still as steadfast as ever. This may be the most vulnerable she’s been emotionally in a long time. And the idea of that, for once, doesn’t completely terrify her.
The questions get more and more personal from there. Although there’s a few lighthearted inquiries sprinkled in to ease the tension (“What was the name of your first pet?” “It was a cat named Mr. Snuffleupagus. I named him after the Sesame Street character. What’s your earliest childhood memory?” “My sister nearly drowning me in a lake. She thought I would float.”), the majority of questions asked are things that neither person ever thought they would admit to someone else.
Those questions range from vaguely prying (“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” “Seventeen. It was with—” “Bradley and his beginner penis, right.” “Alright, smart ass, who did you lose yours to?” “My first girlfriend.”) to diving deep into memories, stories, and opinions that neither have so much as breathed to themselves in the dark of the night, let alone someone else.
Despite the plan having been to leave after brunch, the pair find themselves engrossed in their conversation, drinking mimosa after mimosa as the late morning bleeds into early afternoon, and they continue to discover each other.
As Y/N takes a sip of her fourth beverage, Harry regards her with curious eyes, which are focused on picking apart every moment of her body to dissect and devour in his head when he’s alone that night. “So you said pretty much everyone from your hometown marries their high school sweetheart.” He asks slowly, rubbing a jeweled finger over his ice-swollen lips. “But you didn’t, obviously.”
“No, I did not.” Y/N says in agreement, a tipsy snort sounding from the back of her throat as she raises her fluted glass in a toast. “Thank fuck, honestly. Could you imagine me as a wife right now? And a mother? With children?”
Finger tapping against his lip, a cheeky grin tugs at the very corner of his mouth. “No, I couldn’t, frankly.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he answers. “But what I’d like to know is…do you believe in it? Marriage, I mean? Because you said your parents had rough patches, and you thought they mostly stayed together just to stay together, and you and Gherkin Pickle didn’t last—”
“I’m sorry, Gherkin Pickle—?”
“So what I want to know is…” With his thumb and knuckle still grazing his chin, Harry points his finger at the girl across the table. “Marriage. Do you think there’s value in it? Do you think someone can be monogamous for their entire life? Do you want to get married someday?”
The alcohol is beginning to soak into Y/N’s brain, making her bolder with every thump of her heart in her chest. She leans across the table to ghost her fingers over Harry’s knuckles, continuing to glide them over his cool skin until she reaches his statement rings. “Why?” She asks, a smirk twinkling its way onto her face. “Are you asking?”
“Not quite yet, no.” Harry can feel the alcohol beginning to buzz through his stagnant veins, and he’ll later blame his flirtatious response on the pleasant feeling. “Although you in that dress has me half considering it.”
“Only half considering it?” Y/N clicks her tongue in feigned disappointment, swirling the tip of her index finger over the opal ring that sits upon Harry’s pinkie. “That’s a bit disheartening. I’ll have to up my game, huh?”
The sight of Y/N’s lithe finger tracing his mother’s ring sends a shock through Harry’s buzzing body. He can’t quite tell if it’s the witty banter that she matches perfectly and with ease, the lighthearted smile that lifts her soft lips, the gentle pulse he can feel reverberating through her fingertip, or the cleavage that’s just barely slipping out of her dress as she leans over, but Harry can’t tear his eyes away from the mortal girl, not for one second. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment of her like this. How it’s all for him.
“You know, I’m starting to regret my earlier proposal.” He murmurs quietly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he watches the mortal take a long sip of her mimosa. “How much begging would it take to convince you to follow me to the bathroom right now for a little fun?”
Despite the warmth pooling between her thighs at the offer, Y/N shakes her head. “Too much begging.” She replies, setting her glass back down on the table with a soft clink. She can already tell there’s a good chance that she’ll go back on the agreement they made, but she wants to make him sweat first. As much as it tortures her, she knows it tortures him more. And he’s certainly done his fair share of torturing. Now it’s her turn. “But speaking of proposals…”
To his credit, Harry doesn’t push the subject of bathroom quickies again. “Right.” He pauses with his glass half raised to his lips. “Marriage. Thoughts?”
Harry’s attention is rapt as his eyes drift to the mortal’s lips, which pucker slightly as her lightly inebriated mind thinks through the question. Not for the first time, he wishes he had the ability to take a look inside her head and see how her thoughts form before she voices them.
“I think…” She fixes her fork against her plate with a clink, her voice light but thoughtful as she forms her response. “I do think there’s value in marriage, but not inherently. It’s not valuable just because it exists; I think it becomes valuable based on the work you put into it. My parents, for example…” Her finger begins to circle Harry’s icy knuckle absentmindedly. “My parents didn’t put much work in, so I don’t think their marriage has that much value in comparison to what it could have if they tried. But if two people put effort in, and strive to be the best partner they can be…I think there’s tremendous value in that.”
Harry responds with a low hum in the back of his throat. “That stands to reason.” He wishes he could take her hand in his own, but the sensation of her warm fingers tracing his skin is too wonderful to pull away. “What about monogamy? Do you think it’s realistic?”
“I suppose my answer is the same.” Y/N shrugs lightly as her soft skin catches on the corner of Harry’s H ring. “It’s different for everyone, but I do think it can be realistic. What’s not realistic is the idea that it’s easy. People change over time, right? Sometimes someone can change into someone completely different. You have to expect that, and be flexible with it.”
For the first time since the beginning of their date, an uncomfortably negative feeling buzzes in the pit of Harry’s belly. Of course Y/N thinks people change—she’s mortal. But Harry, on the other hand… Harry is forever frozen at twenty-six. Harry is static. Harry is stagnant. However Y/N will change, Harry cannot match it. Ever.
That realization helps him identify the uncomfortable feeling as his eyes fall on the girl’s finger tracing his rings. It’s longing, he discovers, unable to look away from the way her fingernail scratches his immortal skin without so much as leaving a pinkening mark. Harry will never change again, while Y/N has a whole life of it ahead of her. Millions of possibilities that lead to millions of more possibilities, always shifting, never staying the same from one moment to the next.
“As for your last question…” Y/N’s familiar cadence pulls Harry from his thoughts. “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t completely rule out marriage, but it’s not an active goal of mine. It all depends on finding someone I think I could grow with and still love at the end of every day. And despite how simple that sounds,” The short laugh that leaves her mouth is wistful, but hides a tinge of bitterness. “It’s surprisingly hard to find.”
“It is, yeah.” Harry agrees, finishing the remnants of his mimosa with one fell swoop. “Incredibly hard.” His gaze sweeps to Y/N’s glass, which has about one more gulp of liquid left in it. With the hand not within her grasp, he reaches across the table, picking up the glass and lifting it to her lips. “May I, pet?”
He can hear the way her heartbeat stutters in her chest, and feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she nods slowly. Harry places the glass between her lips, carefully tilting it back until the drink runs out of the crystal and into her awaiting mouth. A small droplet streaks from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, and Harry is sure to catch it on his finger after setting the glass down.
Y/N knows that Harry is doing his best to fluster her, and while it’s working, she knows that she can play the game just as well as he can. Keeping her eyes on his like a challenge, she grasps the hand touching the corner of her mouth, guiding his finger beyond her lips with a firm grip. The sweetness of the orange juice and champagne concoction swells across her tongue, but that’s nothing compared to the sweetness of watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.
Pulling his finger from her mouth with a quiet pop, Y/N sets his hand back down on the table, squeezing it once before releasing both of his hands and resting her elbows on the table. She steeples her fingers together, setting her chin on the makeshift rest as she regards Harry’s darkening eyes.
“Thanks.” She murmurs, tilting her head to the side lazily as Harry shifts in his chair. “Didn’t realize I missed a drop. That was a sharp catch, Holmes.”
Harry can’t help but flex his finger as his gaze drops to the digit, catching how a light sheen of saliva covers his skin. Heat floods between his thighs, making him regret his choice of fashionable linen pants over standard jeans. “Thank you, Watson.” He matches her banter, albeit with a slightly strained voice. “Shall we order another drink, now that we’ve both finished?”
The question hangs in the air between them like an invitation, open ended and carefully calculated. Y/N leans forward again, unlocking one of her hands to run a finger over the dark ink staining Harry’s exposed forearm. “I think we should grab the check, actually.” She wets her lips with a swipe of her tongue as she feels Harry’s muscle tense under her touch. “I think I’ve had enough to drink. Have you?”
All the moisture in Harry’s mouth disappears, his throat burning as the mortal girl’s scent envelops him with every move. His eyes flicker to her neck, where the thumping of her heart is practically visible underneath her fragile skin. With his inhuman eyes, he can just make out the ghost of a bruise he sucked into her neck a few nights before.
Has he had enough to drink? No. He’ll never get enough. But that’s not what Y/N means by the innocuous question.
“I’ve had my fill, yeah.” Jerking his head in agreement, Harry motions towards the window, where he knows Paige has been analyzing every move between them. Her displeasure at the close interactions between Harry and Y/N is nearly palpable as she makes her way back to their table, and Harry wonders if Y/N can also sense it, as she seems to be more perceptive than the average human. When he turns his attention back to her, however, his brow creases in confusion.
“What are you doing?” He asks, watching as Y/N shifts through her woven bag and extracts her wallet.
“Grabbing my wallet?” Her expression is just as confused as his own when she replies. “To pay?”
“To—? No. Put that away.” Harry says sternly, using the same dominant tone he adopts in the bedroom (only half on purpose). “This is a date. I’m paying.”
“This isn’t the 18th century, H. We can split the bill.” Y/N begins to roll her eyes as she opens her wallet, reaching for the debit card stamped neatly with her name.
“I’m well aware it’s not the 18th century, love.” Lip twitching from the wry irony, Harry gently places his hand on her own and closes her wallet. “But it’s a date— our first one, at that— and I’d like to pay for you. It’s just manners.”
Although he can feel the grip on her wallet loosening, there’s still a degree of hesitancy apparent in Y/N’s eyes. “Harry—”
“And I don’t mean that in a chauvinistic way, and I don’t mean to imply that you’re incapable of paying.” He swipes his thumb over her knuckle once, letting his physical touch reinforce his words. “I asked you out, yeah? So I think it’s only fair that I pay.”
Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s pillowy lips as she worries them between her teeth, her resolve getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment. It only takes three more beats of her heart for her to give a small nod, and Harry, satisfied that she’s agreed, reaches for his wallet to pay the bill.
Despite the temptation to short change Paige on the tip for her disregard for his date, Harry still leaves a sizable tip, saying goodbye to the server with a polite— and only polite— smile. Once she has her back turned, however, Harry flashes his most genuine grin at Y/N as he scoots his chair away from the table to stand.
Y/N’s hands grip the sides of her chair to match Harry’s motion, but she freezes once she sees the man step towards her. Within a moment, his jeweled hands are wrapped around the back of her chair, carefully pulling it out before offering her a hand to help her stand.
“Is this going to be a thing now?” Y/N asks, nodding to their clasped hands as she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “Pulling out chairs, opening doors—”
Placing his hand on the small of her back once again, Harry scoffs. “It’s always been a thing,” He argues, guiding her to the patio door and through the restaurant. “You’ve just been dating pricks, apparently.”
Despite his answer, however, even Harry can’t deny that the urge to resurrect his Victorian etiquette is as strange as it is sudden. And, truth be told, there is something deeply pleasing in the light flush of blood he can hear work its way over Y/N’s cheeks when he opens the door of the restaurant for her, opens the car door, takes her hand to help her in, and shuts the door carefully before making his way to the driver’s side.
It’s easy to spend the short drive back to her building with his hand entwined with hers, their fingers woven together as Harry’s thumb moves over her knuckles. Y/N’s skin, like usual, is so warm, almost as if she’s made from sunshine herself. At this point, Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that; her blood could certainly pass for being made from stardust.
It’s all too soon that Harry is pulling into a parking spot in front of Y/N’s building and turning the key in the ignition, his favourite car smoothly powering down in one fell swoop. Once the sound of the engine dies down, his eyes refocus on the girl next to him.
Y/N, in comparison, is just as focused on Harry as Harry is on her. She knows that it’s time to let go of his hand, time to climb out of the car, time to return to her apartment alone. Time to fall out of the fantasy that has been this afternoon. Despite knowing all of this, however, she stays glued to the seat, her eyes locked with Harry’s emerald irises in a soft battle.
Harry is well aware of the predicament he’s found himself in. While he was the one to establish the no sex rule in an attempt to keep Y/N comfortable, it’s becoming harder and harder to stick to it with every passing moment. If he was smart, he’d bid the girl goodbye here, allow her to walk herself into her building, thereby erasing any possibility of him charming her into allowing him inside her apartment. Then, once he was safely back home, he could draw himself a hot bath, scent it with lavender epsom salts, close his eyes to picture the way Y/N looks with laughter in her eyes, the sun spilling across her cheeks, her dress’ neckline falling dangerously low, and tug himself to a tension-relieving climax.
However, Harry has never been known for his intelligence. Not as much as he’s been known for his recklessness.
Before he can second guess his most likely terrible decisions, Harry is out of the car and opening Y/N’s door. He’s helping her out. He’s guiding her into her building, and climbing up the stairs of her fifth floor walk up with her hand locked in his. And now he’s standing in front of her apartment door, with Y/N shyly looking at him as she bites her fucking lip, completely unaware of the rampage raging inside the vampire before her.
And the most infuriating, frustrating thing about the entire situation is the way Y/N is looking at him, like she can barely hold his gaze, but can’t force herself to look away. Harry can feel the waves of need and uncertainty radiating from her, hear the thumping of her heart in her chest. The last time she looked at him like this, like she’s unsure of where they stand, was the first night they met. Harry remembers how she fumbled with her keys, nervously invited him in, and then let him use her in a way that literally drove him to his most primal state. He remembers the euphoria of sinking his teeth into her neck, tasting her ridiculously sweet blood for the first time as his orgasm rolled over him, wave after wave of intense pleasure blurring together as his eyes burned crimson, the lewd sounds of their bodies moving together, the desperate whines that echoed from her throat...
“Thank you for lunch.” Y/N’s sweet voice interrupts his walk down memory lane, and with good timing— five more seconds, and Harry would have been pushing her against her front door to rut her dress up and slip inside her. “And the drinks. I had a really nice time.”
Clearing his throat, Harry pushes the indecent thoughts from his head as best he can. He can take care of this later, he tells himself. He just has to be a gentleman for a few more minutes, and then he can go home, and be as depraved as he needs to be. “I did, as well.” The vampire squeezes her hand in preparation of letting go of it. “A really lovely time, actually. I’d like to do it again.”
The way Y/N’s eyes widen ever so slightly as her breath just barely hitches, both of which would be imperceivable to human senses, makes Harry bite back a laugh. “I would too.” A more reassured smile rolls over her face as she leads his hand to her waist, setting it just over her hip and squeezing his fingers around her love handles.
Even after everything Harry has done to her, all the ways he’s seen her, felt her, made her feel— even after all that— his hand on her hip over her dress still sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t want you to go…” She confesses in a quiet voice, rubbing her thumb over his icy knuckles. “It feels strange, not having you come inside…”
“I know.” A sigh escapes Harry’s lips as he leans down, brushing his forehead over hers as he murmurs his response, his voice dangerously low. “But if I come inside, I know what I’ll do. And I promised that I would behave myself today.”
“I don’t mind breaking promises.” Y/N wisps, closing her eyes as Harry’s breath, tinged with orange from the mimosa and mint from the candy the restaurant gave them with the bill, rolls over her in a delicious wave.
Nudging his nose against her own, Harry shakes his head with the smallest of motions, his fingertips digging further into Y/N’s love handles. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over hers, barely even brushing before he pulls away again. “One of us needs to have some self control.”
Y/N wedges her free hand between their bodies, resting it over Harry’s chest with her fingers curled along the unbuttoned edge of his shirt. “If you insist.” Her fingernails dig just the slightest bit into Harry’s sturdy chest, savouring the way she feels his body tense beneath her. “If you want to be boring, then that’s fine.”
Harry laughs quietly at the small attempt to tease his ego, and although his instinct tells him to prove her wrong, he just nods his head. “Am I too boring to receive a goodbye kiss?” He brushes a loose hair back from her forehead before cradling her warm cheek, guiding his thumb over her cheekbone in a repeated action. “Haven’t kissed you in hours. Feels wrong.”
Butterflies burst into flight in Y/N’s stomach at the innocent request coupled with the sweet explanation. They’ve done everything in the wrong order, she thinks, as she allows Harry to smudge small pecks along her chin and cheeks. The very first night they met, she allowed him to use her in any way he wanted, and he allowed her the same luxury. They’ve spent the last month exploring each other’s bodies, getting to know every nook and cranny, every preference. They’ve grown accustomed to how the other moves in their sleep, how they wake up in the morning, if they shower at sunrise or sunset. And now, after all that, they’ve finally had what has probably been the best first date in the history of first dates, and this man, who has already coaxed countless orgasms from her shivering body, who has learned all of her likes and dislikes, is asking for a goodbye kiss like a nervous teenager walking his crush home from biology class.
How could she refuse him?
The answer is simple: she can’t. In fact, she’s not sure she could refuse Harry anything he asked of her. And maybe that would be worrisome— it probably should be worrisome— if the idea of giving Harry whatever he wanted didn’t bring a wave of warmth to Y/N’s belly that travels from her center to the very tips of her fingers.
“No,” She wraps the loose fabric of his shirt around her fingers, clutching him as close as she possibly can. “You’re not too boring, H. You’re never boring.” Y/N sucks in a breath as she feels Harry’s teeth graze over her jaw, marking her ever so slightly as her lover makes his way back to her lips fervently.
He smudges a kiss at the corner of her lips, pulling a strained whimper from her as she waits for him to kiss her properly.
“Ask me.” He whispers, grazing his fingers over her cheekbone again and again. “Ask me to kiss you. I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”
The request is so innocent compared to everything else Harry has ever asked her to do, and his voice lacks the dominant command it usually carries over her, but Y/N feels just as weak as she would if he ordered her to get on her knees. “Harry…” Her voice floats through the miniscule space between them, so quiet that it’s barely audible over their laboured breathing, but Harry still thinks it sounds like a song. “Please kiss me. Kiss me goodbye.”
A groan reverberates in the back of Harry’s throat, and the tiny molecule of composure that he has left in him slips away as he glides his lips over her own silky pair, his fingers threading into her hair on instinct. Although he does his best to restrain himself, it becomes more difficult with every passing moment, and becomes damn near impossible when he hears the way Y/N whines at the sensation of their lips brushing together with more and more force.
Despite his best efforts, Harry soon finds his hands moving of their own accord as his palm travels from Y/N’s hip towards her ass, ruffling her dress as he grips her and thrusts a leg between her own. He backs the mortal up into her door, her back hitting the wood with a delicate thud, and the groan she releases worries him for a split second before he feels her grind against his thigh situated between her legs.
Harry knows that the pretense of this just being a goodbye kiss went out the window the moment he touched her, and although she’s responding in kind, he has to live up to his word. He has to. He swore that he wouldn’t fuck her today, and as much as he wants to, as much as it seems that she wants to— and if the red hot heat burning his thigh is any hint, she very much wants to— he has to regain some self control. Despite all his shortcomings, or how his thirst for her blood outweighs any other desire he has for her, he has to remain a gentleman. Even if it means peeling himself away from the beautiful girl who is scratching at his chest, moaning into his mouth, grinding against his thigh, and speaking between ragged gasps—
“Fuck the promise.” She groans into his ear, her teeth grazing over his lobe with more pressure than Harry thought her capable. “Please, H. I know what we said, but I need you.”
Harry curses under his breath at the sensation, his eyes rolling back into his head for a split second, and he knows that if he doesn’t distance himself, he’ll succumb to her begging. “I can’t, darling. I can’t.” He chokes out the words between pants, bumping his forehead against Y/N’s as he struggles to catch a breath that he’s forgotten he doesn’t need. It’s funny, he manages to think, how he teased Y/N for not keeping her hands off him earlier, when he’s the one who can’t bear to be away from her touch now. “I want to— Christ, I want to— but I’m trying to behave.”
“Behaving is stupid.” Y/N mutters, smudging her lips across Harry’s stubbled jaw and down his neck, leaving small marks in her wake. “What happened to giving into desires?”
Good fucking question.
Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, a choked laugh escaping his heaving chest. “That was when we were just fucking. Now we’re…”
Y/N regards the man with hooded eyes, a flutter of hope shining through the desire that’s settled in her chest. What exactly are they? They’re not dating, she knows that for certain. But they’re not exactly just fuck buddies anymore. “We’re what?” She prompts after Harry trails off.
“We’re…” Harry struggles to form a coherent thought, too entranced by the feeling of Y/N in his arms to think straight. Sucking in a deep breath, the fragrant scent of the girl’s arousal burning his throat, Harry forces himself to take the smallest step back from her, although his hands stay locked around her hip and her cheek. “We’re saying goodbye.”
A defeated sigh falls from Y/N’s swollen lips, but she nods gently at the man before her, brushing her thumb over his exposed collar bones with great care. “Alright.” She mumbles, disappointment laced through her voice. “Goodbye.”
The glum tone brings a small smile to Harry’s cherry lips. “It’s just for a little while, love. Not forever.” Harry teases her as he swipes his thumb over her flushed cheek. “Couldn’t stay away from you that long.”
The breathless flush turns into a pleased warmth as Y/N struggles to hide the smile threatening to break across her expression. Taking the change in mood as a hint, Harry ducks his head, pressing his lips against hers with an earnest softness for just a moment before stepping back and releasing the mortal girl from his grasp.
“Goodbye.” He murmurs again, his belly aching at the thought of leaving Y/N alone for the rest of the day. It really does feel unnatural, he’s surprised to find. Has he really gotten that used to being around her?
It’s a strange process, leaving Harry at the door. After she finally says goodbye again, shuts the door, locks it tightly, and slips on the chain, Y/N finds herself touching the wood, her palm pressed flat against the surface as if she can feel Harry on the other side. It takes her a moment to walk away from it, the buzz of the mimosas and their first date streaming through her veins.
Checking her phone for the first time, Y/N is surprised to find that it’s nearly 4pm— had they really been in the restaurant for almost five hours? No wonder the server had been giving her a dirty look; they’d spent so long just talking and sipping drinks, ordering no other food, and not giving up their table. She’d probably be glaring too.
Admittedly, there is a slight rumble in Y/N’s stomach, as they ate over four hours ago, but she ignores it as she takes a seat on the couch to untie her pink vans, tossing them into the corner before slipping off her jean jacket. She tosses that over the couch too, running her hands through her mussed hair. She’s not quite sure what she’ll do with the rest of her day now that she’s alone. She could indulge some reading, or answer some messages from relatives, or maybe even—
A pounding on the door disrupts her thoughts, jerking her eyes from the book on her coffee table to her front door. With her brow furrowed in confusion, Y/N rises from the couch and walks to the door, gliding the chain free and turning the lock before swinging the door open.
Braced in the doorway with shining eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a heaving chest as if he’s run all the way back up to her apartment, is Harry. He takes a moment to compose himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as she takes in her more relaxed appearance.
“I couldn’t go.” He confesses, answering the question on the tip of Y/N’s tongue before she even has the chance to speak it. “I made it down to my car, and then—”
Y/N grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him into her apartment, slamming the door behind them before reaching for Harry again. His hands are already outstretched to receive her, having grown used to their intimacy routine, and she’s pleased when he automatically rests his palms on her lower back and her neck as she wedges her lips between his once again.
“I don’t want you to go.” Y/N gasps the words against his mouth, barely peeling herself back from him to utter the sentence. “I need you so fucking bad, H, please—”
With great difficulty, Harry attempts to think straight, but it gets harder when Y/N bucks her hips and— well, it gets harder. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I did, I—I made a promise, and I have to—”
“What do I have to do?” Y/N demands, tangling her fingers in Harry’s chestnut curls and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I fucking need something, Harry, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”
Christ. Harry’s had his suspicions, but now he’s convinced that this girl has some direct line to all his weaknesses, because she knows exactly how to stroke his ego like no one else has before. She presses every one of his buttons every time. She’s allowed him to handcuff her, take her in every position, manhandle her, slap her around, and she still begs him for more. Is there anything that she hasn’t done better than anyone else?
And that’s when it hits him. The perfect loophole.
Harry is so excited at the possibility of relief that he nearly whimpers, just barely managing to bite back the sound at the last second as he smooths his fingers over his lover’s wild hair. “What about when I’m not here, pet?” He goads her softly, a glint shining in the corner of his darkening eyes. “What do you do then?”
“I…” Although confusion is present in Y/N’s voice, she answers him promptly— she’s gotten used to obeying his sexual requests over the course of the month. “I call you. And you...you tell me what to do, usually.”
“Tell you what?” Harry hungrily prompts her again, tugging on her hair with the lightest of touches. Like before, he wants to hear her say it. “What do I tell you to do?”
“You tell me how to—how to touch myself.” The mortal girl stammers, shyness creeping into her tone despite having begged for Harry mere moments earlier. “And then I do.”
“You do. You behave so well for me.” Keeping his voice as smooth and sensual as possible— which isn’t hard for him, if he’s honest— Harry twirls a lock of Y/N’s hair around his finger, wrapping it around the length as his fingertip brushes over her lip. “I tell you what to do, and you do it. And you moan for me, and send me the prettiest pictures.” He presses harder against her lip, dragging her mouth open as a whimper escapes. “And I always think: what would it be like to see that in person?”
Although the effect of the mimosas has faded by now, Y/N’s head is swimming in a cloud of Harry’s cologne and her own lust, and she struggles to understand the double meaning in his words. “What—what do you mean? You’ve seen me in bed—”
The innocent confusion in her voice tantalizes Harry in the best way. “When I’m touching you. But that’s not what I want.” He murmurs, grinding his hips back into her own. “I know how to get around my promise.”
He watches as the realization dawns on Y/N’s face, her heart stuttering as warmth floods through her body. “Y-you mean—? You want to see me…?”
“I want to see you touch yourself.” Harry finishes her thought as his eyes darken, and he licks his lips at the image of Y/N laid out on her bed, legs spread wide, showing off just for him. Only for him. “Will you let me?”
And there it is. That wave of warmth and desire spreads through Y/N’s tummy, begging her to say yes to any request that falls from Harry’s mouth. The urge is so strong that she nearly begins to strip, her fingers edging to the hem of her dress, before she manages to form a clear thought of pause. “Are you sure you want to see me…?” She dances around the word for a second time. “Like, I—I don’t know if it’s very sexy, or—”
“Is that a fucking joke?” Harry laughs incredulously, his thumb swiping over the edge of Y/N’s jaw. He could leave so many pretty marks… “Of course it’ll be sexy. Christ, love, it’s fucking you.”
The statement that Harry makes is so sure, so confident, that it nearly sends Y/N reeling. The human’s eyelids flutter as he begins to pepper kisses along her cheekbones and down her jaw, his tongue swiping over her sensitive skin every few moments.
“Anything you do is sexy.” He whispers the words against her skin, his voice low and accent thick enough that it seems to fill the entire hallway. “Literally anything… How you lick your lips after taking a drink, how you get in and out of my car so delicately… It’s all so fucking erotic.” Y/N shivers when a breath of cool air hits the damp skin of her neck as Harry laughs lightly. “I’ve got a bloody hard-on nearly every moment of the day.”
Hearing the confession that tumbled from Harry’s cool lips, Y/N thinks, is the verbal equivalent of doing three shots of tequila and chasing with a vodka soda. The words wash over her as easily as Harry’s cologne does whenever she gets close to him, and her fingers tug on his brunette locks with need. “Really? Even today?”
“Are you kidding? Especially today. Look at what you’re wearing…” His icy fingers skim down her neck before tracing over the cleavage that the neckline of her yellow dress leaves exposed. “Every time you leaned over to take a bite of food, I nearly came in my trousers.”
Despite the desire curling itself around Y/N’s core, she can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “That would’ve been a sight.” She scratches her nails lightly against Harry’s scalp, the motion surprisingly tender for their topic of conversation. “Would’ve had to ask Paige for another napkin.”
“It would’ve been properly humiliating, yeah.” Harry agrees easily, unconcerned with the thought as his lips follow the path led by his fingers. “But it would’ve been worth it.”
While the pair’s position is rather incriminating— Y/N’s hands in Harry’s hair, Harry clutching her as close as possible, his lips travelling over any exposed skin he can find— there’s an air of careful consideration floating around them. As much as Harry wants to see the girl in his arms pleasure herself, he wants it to be her decision. Anything less wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.
“Y’don’t have to do it just for me, Y/N.” The vampire takes the slightest step back to give her some room to breathe without his close proximity to cloud her judgement. “But if it’s my reaction you’re worried about…” Harry untangles one of her hands from his hair, ghosting it down his body before cautiously laying it over his white linen trousers, where his bulge is growing more prominent by the second. “You have nothing to be worried about.”
A desperate whine nearly escapes Y/N’s mouth, but she manages to bite it back at the last moment. She wants him. As nervous as she is to have him watch her touch herself, she’s more turned on than anything. When she sends Harry explicit texts and photos that are most certainly not safe for work, part of the thrill is the reaction she gets from him. A dirty photo is only as sexy as the other person’s reception of it. To see Harry’s reactions in person… it would be a lie to say she’s not into the idea.
But it would also be a lie to say that she doesn’t want something in return.
“Alright. You can watch me.” Y/N relents with a sigh, and she takes a moment to enjoy the triumphant look in Harry’s eyes before tacking on her addendum. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
Y/N squeezes her hand over his bulge, making the slightest stroking motion upwards towards his belly as a low groan rolls from Harry’s mouth. “I get to watch you touch yourself, too.”
There’s not even a moment of hesitation. “Done.” Harry seals his lips over hers firmly the moment the word exits his mouth, grinding against her hand as he backs her into the wall. Her back hits the panel with a quiet thud, but Y/N is too busy twisting her fingers around the button of Harry’s pants to notice.
“Ah ah ah.” Harry tuts as his jeweled hand grabs her wrist, pulling it away from his hardening cock while making sure not to use too much strength on her fragile joint. “You don’t get to do that, pet. You’ll only be undressing yourself tonight. It’s only fair.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about fair.” Y/N huffs her reply, but doesn’t pull her wrist from her lover’s grip. “You’re the one who made the stupid rule in the first place!”
Clicking his tongue, Harry takes another step back from the young woman while keeping his other hand floating over her hip. “And you agreed.” He reminds her as the corner of his lip tugs up. “So I think it’s best you behave, don’t you?”
Although the statement turns her legs to jelly, Y/N doesn’t let it show, and instead steels her resolve as best she can. “I’m behaving.” She mutters, crossing her free hand underneath the arm in Harry’s grip.
“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Harry swipes his thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist, feeling her pulse stutter beneath his touch. The vampire swallows the venom that spills into his mouth at the thumping rhythm. He’ll have time for that later.
Chest heaving, Y/N wets her dry lips as best she can despite the lack of moisture in her mouth. “So where are we…?” She trails off as she glances down the hallway of her apartment. “The living room is probably best, position wise…one of us can be on the couch, and the other on a chair.”
“That’s true…” Harry nods his head, but a frown settles over his pillowy lips. “But it’s not very comfortable for you. You usually lie down when you get off, don’t you?” Like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it’s spoken with a tone of efficiency and casual observance, simply to find the best approach for any situation.
And, like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it sends a shock of warmth into her panties.
“I-I do, yeah.” Y/N stutters her response, clearing her throat before adding onto the short statement. “I’m usually in bed.”
Harry nods expectantly, like her reply is just a confirmation for him. “We’ll go to your bedroom, then.” He says decisively, his grip on her wrist loosening. “You can lie down, get comfortable. I’ll stand.”
Leading the mortal to her bedroom, Harry slides open the door, guiding her inside before shutting it with a firm click. When he turns back around to look at her, she’s looking at him expectantly, her fingers twisting around each other as she stares at him with wide eyes. She trusts him, he realizes, not for the first time. She really does trust him.
Although the anticipation is written clearly across her pretty features, Harry knows she needs a small prompt to begin. “How are you usually dressed when you do this alone?” He asks quietly, his own fingers working over the buttons on his shirt smoothly. “Completely bare? Fully clothed? Underwear only?” One of his dimples makes an appearance as he smiles with half his mouth. “Wearing only that sweater of mine that you’ve pretty much stolen?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, that sweater’s too warm.” Y/N replies with an eye roll, tugging off the jean jacket covering her smooth shoulders. “I, um…it depends. If it’s just quick, then usually I’m clothed, but if I’m taking my time, then I’ll just, um, I’ll be in my underwear. Sometimes just my bra.”
Harry’s fingers finish with his last button, and he leaves his open shirt draped over his tall frame. “We’ll be taking our time, angel. So just get as comfortable as you usually would.”
Y/N nods her head in a jerking manner, sucking in a deep breath through her parted lips in an attempt to calm the heave that threatens her chest. The erotic tension in the air could be cut with a knife as she tosses her jacket to the side and works her fingers over the zipper of her dress, which catches for a moment and puts up a struggle as she fights to undo it. Once she wins the battle, she tugs the yellow dress down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out of it and tossing it to the side. Her bra and panties aren’t matching, with the former being a delicate baby pink lace, while the latter are lavender cotton, but she doesn’t let herself focus on that detail. Instead, her fingers hover for a moment at the waist of her panties, hooking in the elastic before she changes her mind at the last minute and decides to keep them on. For now, at least.
Harry watches the entire ritual with starved eyes. He wants Y/N to start before he does, so she can get into a natural rhythm herself, but he can’t resist palming himself over his trousers like she did a moment ago, despite his icy touch not being nearly as satisfying as hers.
Y/N, however, has different plans, regarding him with heavy lashes as she takes a step back towards her bed. “Your turn.” She murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed and curling her fingers around her ruffled comforter.
“All in due time.” Harry assures her with a wry smile, ghosting his fingers along his inked abdomen. “Get comfortable, baby. Pretend I’m not here.”
“Like that’s possible.” The mortal girl mutters under her breath, unaware that Harry’s supernatural hearing can pick it up as if she were shouting in his ear. Nevertheless, she does as he says, scooting back on the bed until her shoulders reach her pillows. She lays back on the soft cushions, shifting around until the padding feels comfortable beneath her back. She lays there for a moment, her arms folded neatly over her bare stomach as she licks her lips expectantly. “Now?”
“Now…” Harry flicks open the button of his trousers. “Do whatever you like to do. Whatever feels good.”
It takes Y/N another moment to work up the courage to actually do something. The trick, she realizes, is closing her eyes. If she so much as catches a glimpse of Harry watching her, her entire body tenses, and she can’t even manage to move a finger over her stomach. With her eyes closed, however, she can imagine that Harry isn’t there, and she’s just in her room, with his only influence being in her mind as she touches herself. It may not make much sense, when she could just use the real image of him to fuel her thoughts, but Harry’s presence is so dominating that pretending he’s not there seems to be the only solution.
And so, when her eyes are shut tightly enough that she can’t see the man, but loose enough that she’s comfortable, Y/N begins to touch herself lightly, her fingers tracing over the dips of her stomach with the smallest amount of contact she can manage.
Her touch moves over her skin like a flutter, its only purpose to warm herself up and ease herself into being watched, and while the small brushes against her own skin would normally have no effect on her, in this moment, with Harry standing by her bed, the action feels more erotic than she ever would’ve thought possible. She slowly glides her hands up to the pink lace of her bra, tracing her finger along the edge of the cup before sliding over the lace to the hardening peaks of her nipples. She’s more sensitive than she thought, and Y/N’s breath hitches for a moment as she brushes against one nub, tweaking it once more with her finger before repeating the motion on her other breast. When a quiet but harsh exhale sounds from Harry’s direction, the human girl amuses the idea of removing her bra to give more visual stimulus, but quickly decides against it. Harry said he wanted to see what she does to herself, she thinks, keeping her eyes closed as she massages her breasts once more. He didn’t ask her to perform a strip tease for him.
And, in truth, a strip tease is the farthest thing that Harry wants in this moment. Any girl can take off her clothes and touch herself to put on a show for a voyeur. If Harry really wanted to watch that, he could easily find countless porn videos depicting the real thing. But the sight of Y/N gliding her fingers over the soft lace of her bra, tracing unseen roadmaps over the mountains and valleys of her chest and abdomen, parting her lips just slightly as she twists her nipple once more… that’s what Harry wants. Despite the countless erotic activities Harry has engaged with Y/N, this may be the most intimate, even without touching her. Maybe that’s why, he muses, only half in the thought as he slowly tugs down the zipper on his trousers, doing his best to make no noise so as not to startle the girl in front of him. She’s letting him see what she does to herself when no one is around, when she just wants to make herself feel good. It’s a selfish act, in the best way. And it’s making Harry’s cock throb like never before.
Y/N’s hands have reached the edge of her panties now, and with her legs spread wide open, Harry can see the dampened spot staining the lavender cotton a shade darker. Her scent wafts over him as she moves, slipping her hand beneath the fabric, and Harry’s own eyelids flutter as she fills every one of his senses. There’s a small part of his more instinctual mind cursing him for thinking of this— for establishing an activity where he can see her, smell her, but not touch her. However, there’s a larger part of his mind thanking him for this. For the opportunity to bask in Y/N’s own sensuality and pleasure.
The dampness that greets Y/N’s fingers as she slides into her panties isn’t a surprise, but still provides relief. For a brief moment, the girl had been worried that she’d be too nervous about the situation to let herself enjoy it, but as she teasingly circles her index finger around her clit, she knows that enjoying it won’t be a problem. Although she misses Harry’s cool touch, the feeling of his rings sliding over her clammy skin, and although it may seem untrue when Harry is in bed with her, no one knows Y/N’s body like she does. No one can instantly know what feels good and what doesn’t, what needs to be touched with more force, what needs to be gently caressed with a feather light pressure. Y/N alone is the keeper of those secrets, and although she’s begun to whisper those unspoken tokens to Harry in the dead of the night as he lays between her thighs, she alone knows the real truths.
She continues to circle her clit for a few moments, gradually applying more and more pressure as her free hand clutches her bare thigh, her fingertips digging into her squishy flesh. It doesn’t take long, however, for Y/N to need more, and she allows her fingers to run over her entrance a few times before dipping her index finger into her hot core.
While the sound that leaves her mouth is quiet and could potentially go unnoticed, it’s the loud groan from Harry that snaps the human’s eyes open, and the sight in front of her that stops her movements in their tracks. With her index finger still half inside her, and her grip on her thigh tightening, Y/N gapes at him unabashedly, because Harry looks like a fucking god.
Her eyes sweep over him methodically, committing every inch of his appearance to memory so as not to ever forget what he looks like when pleasuring himself. His chestnut curls are tinged with sweat, just beginning to plaster to his damp forehead and neck. His jade eyes are darkening by the second, while his strawberry lips are parted and dry, despite him swiping his tongue over them every minute or so. His toned chest is bare, displaying his dark ink for Y/N’s viewing, heaving with every movement of his tattooed arm. And lower… Y/N moans again as she clutches her leg tighter, nearly enough to bruise. Harry hasn’t completely removed his pants, but he’s pushed them down low enough that he’s freed his cock, which stands tall and proud and angrily red at the tip that pokes through the tight fist he has wrapped around the length. Despite the tension in his body, however, Harry flicks his wrist lazily, teasing himself as much as Y/N did earlier, and she wonders if he does it for the same reason she did. To give their lover something to look at.
With her eyes locked with Harry’s, Y/N pushed her middle finger inside herself, whimpering at how the extra digit stretches her out. She curves her fingers as they move in and out of her at a leisurely pace, focused more on reaching deeper than reaching a quick speed. While her hand busies itself inside her panties, she slides the other from her thigh back up to her breast, gripping and massaging it as her lashes flicker.
“Look at you.” Harry utters with a groan, breaking the silence between them as he thumbs over the leaking head of his cock. “Christ, you look so fucking filthy.” His eyes shift from hers for just a moment, glueing themselves to the shadows of motion he can see beneath her underwear. “Does that feel good, angel?”
A high pitched whine falls from Y/N’s mouth as she presses the pads of her fingers against the spongy spot inside her, setting off a wave of bliss inside her belly. “Yeah. Feels—feels really good, Harry.” His name leaves her lips in a breathy mewl as she tweaks her nipple over her bra, throwing her head back against her pillow.
The newly exposed skin of her neck beckons Harry. It’s completely covered with a thin veil of sweat, with the heat radiating from her throbbing pulse seemingly reaching towards him at the end of the bed. He takes a half step forward without realizing it, only catching his action when his knees bump the edge of the mattress. “Fuck—” He closes his reddening eyes to collect himself as his hand quickens its pace around his prick, only opening them again when he’s sure he’s under control. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“I think I have a bit of an idea.” She mutters in reply, stroking small circles over her clit with her thumb. “It’s not like you can hide it.”
“But you’re hiding.” The vampire replies in a strained voice, tightening his fist around his cock as he nods to the girl’s covered core. “Take those off for me, pet. Please.”
Y/N withdraws her fingers from her dripping center, her skin shining in the light of her bedroom as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the panties. “Wait—” she says suddenly, pausing her obedient motion. “Wait, I—”
The moment his foggy mind registers the word, Harry’s palm stills over his length, and although he doesn’t let go completely, he forces his body to calm down as he appraises the human. “What?” He questions, concern laced into his thick accent. “What’s wrong?”
Sitting up on her elbows, Y/N raises her head from her pillow as she scoots closer to her bedroom wall, stopping once her heated skin grazes the tapestry. “I want you next to me.” Her eyes are pleading as the words fall from her mouth, quiet and desperate. “I promise I’ll stick to the rule— I won’t touch you. I just want you to be comfortable, too, and… and I like it when you’re close. Please?”
The idea of refusing her doesn’t even enter Harry’s mind. Within seconds, faster than a mortal ever would, Harry has stripped off his trousers, leaving himself in just his dark blue boxers that are still half rugged down. He crawls onto the bed quickly, only letting his knee brush against Y/N’s leg before situating himself six inches away from her. Even with the distance between them, he can still feel an electric energy radiating off of her as her fragrance becomes thicker and all encompassing, making his head swim in the intoxicating honey and lavender perfume.
“M’here.” Harry murmurs the assurance softly, his fingers aching to reach out and touch her. Surely that’s not against the rules? After all, caressing someone’s cheek, and only for a moment, isn’t necessarily sexual. With that rationalization in his mind, his jeweled fingers brush against the young woman’s flushed cheek, grazing upwards to push a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Y/N whispers back to him, her hands now resting on her tummy as she stares longingly at the figure next to her in bed. She wonders if the comforting touch is allowed, but decides not to question it. Questioning it may make it stop, and that’s the last thing she wants. Instead, Y/N simply places her hand over Harry’s, interlocking their fingers together and bringing his hand to her mouth to smudge a soft kiss over the back of his icy knuckles.
Harry can feel the pulsing of her heart through her lips, and it takes all of his inhuman strength to pull his hand from hers as carefully as he can. “I think you made me a deal, didn’t you?” He asks, disguising the want in his voice behind a teasing tone. “You said that if I got up here next to you, you’d…” Harry clicks his tongue as he nods at her cotton panties. “Hm?”
Despite the small laugh that escapes her, Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’ve got a one track mind, I swear.” She hooks her fingers into the edge of her panties, lifting her bum off the bed to tug them down her legs and toss to the side. “Happy?”
Harry licks his lips as he watches the girl’s hands drift back to her bare thighs, gliding over the silky skin with small strokes. “Very much so, yeah.” He replies, pushing his own hair back from his face before trailing his fingers back down his stomach. He wraps his right hand back around his leaking cock, stroking it once as he glances at Y/N again. “Keep going, dove. Don’t stop on my account.”
It’s like they’re back at the beginning,Y/N thinks, as she dips her index and middle fingers back into her wetness before she circles them around her clit. With Harry next to her, his presence so very there, Y/N has to close her eyes again to compel herself to relax. It takes a few moments of massaging her clit and focusing on keeping her breathing steady before she can open her eyes again and allow her gaze to slide back onto Harry.
The vampire, as expected, looks like an erotic renaissance painting. His hand is moving faster over his cock now, which is bubbling precum with every few strokes. His hips buck into his hand every so often, searching for more and more friction as he chases his high. Like herself, Harry has his eyes closed for much of his movements, but when he does open them, they’re pinned to her form and how she touches herself, like she’s his own personal show. And, in a way, she is. And she likes that.
It’s not long before Y/N needs more stimulation, and she thrusts her two fingers back inside herself as her other hand begins to rub over her clit. The dual sensation sends a hoarse moan falling from her lips, her tummy contracting with the wave of ecstasy that she knows is getting closer, but it’s the feeling of Harry’s lips on her temple that has her breath stuttering.
His slightly chapped lips move over her skin in slow and sensual movements, opening and closing as he speaks against her. “That’s it, darling. You’re so close, I can tell.” He sucks in a long breath while bucking his hips into his fist, a whining moan echoing from his throat and into her ear. “Fuck, you’ve got me wrecked…”
Curling her fingers inside, Y/N prods against her G-spot with fervent desire, leaning her head closer and closer to Harry’s mouth as she does so. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, I—” Her words cut off with a broken whine as her spongy walls clench around her fingers.
“Wish I could touch you.” Harry mutters the dirty confession in her ear, his lips still meeting every inch of skin they can find. “Wish I could make my pretty girl cum…” His brow furrows at the whimper that escapes Y/N at those words. “But at least I know you can—Christ—” He swipes his thumb over his tip again as his other hand moves to his balls, massaging over them with a gentle touch. “—can take care of yourself when I’m not here.”
When Harry’s lips find her neck, suckling at the sensitive spot where it meets her jaw, Y/N moans again, louder than before as she bucks her hips into her hand. “Fuck, Harry—” The way she sobs his name is music to his ears. “Can—can I cum? Please?” The question rolls off her tongue without prompt, sounding as natural as breathing to the girl. Harry’s not even sure she registers that she’s asked, but the question for permission goes straight to his throbbing cock.
“Yeah, baby. Cum for me.” He drags his teeth over her fragile skin, aching to bite down but restraining himself from giving in. Instead, he redirects his reaction to his hand, speeding up his strokes until he feels his balls tighten. “Cum for Daddy.” The way he feels her heart stutter at his words feeds his ego like nothing else, and he brings one hand up from his abdomen to rest on her throat, stretching his fingers to grip her chin and direct her face towards his. “Show Daddy how good you’re making yourself feel.” He demands, his lips ghosting over her own as they both work themselves towards the edge. His voice sounds less himself and more like a growl with every passing moment. “Cum.”
It’s the final harsh demand that pushes Y/N to thrust her fingers into herself faster, matching her motions over her clit to the new speed. It only takes a few more moments for the tight ball of pleasure inside her belly to burst, the waves of her orgasm washing over her repeatedly as her walls pulse around her fingers. “Daddy—” The name falls from her mouth and into Harry’s freely. Her only thoughts are of him as her climax consumes her; only his emerald eyes and cherry lips, only his brunette curls and inked skin, only his calloused hands and thick cock. He’s all she can think about. Has there ever been anyone else? “Please, Daddy…”
Harry watches with hungry eyes as the human’s body spasms through her release, the movements of her hands shuddering as the pleasure becomes too great to move. “That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl.” He grunts the praise through clenched teeth as his own orgasm nears, his hand twisting around his cock more and more. “Prettiest little slut in the world, y’know that?”
Y/N releases a whine of acknowledgement, her chest heaving as she comes down from her high and withdraws her fingers from her core. Resting her hands on her clenching belly, she turns her heavy lidded gaze towards Harry, watching him eagerly as he works himself. “Your turn.” She murmurs, her lips finding the edge of his sharp jaw and giving it a teasing bit. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you? All over your stomach?”
“If—fuck—if that’s where you want it, baby.” Harry groans loudly as his stomach clenches, the butterfly flexing beneath his strained movements. “You want to watch me cum? Hm?”
“Mhmm.” Y/N hums the agreement against his skin, clasping her hands together to stop herself from reaching for Harry’s cock. “You’re usually inside me when you cum, so I’ve never seen it. I want to see it.”
“God, I—” Harry reaches over with his free hand and grasps Y/N’s warm palm, dragging it up to his hair and tangling her fingers in his dark locks. It’s a poor substitute for the craving he has to feel her touch over his cock, but the sensation of her tugging on his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp manages to provide the contact relief he desires. “Fuck, right there—” Harry’s abdomen contracts once more as he works himself over the edge and begins to shoot thick ropes of cum all over his tattooed tummy.
Y/N continues to work her lips over his jaw, whispering anything and everything into his ear to continue to stimulate him through his orgasm. “Looks so pretty, H.” She utters once his cock has finally stopped spurting and he releases it from his grip. “You’re so pretty…”
A breathless laugh leaves Harry’s mouth as he shifts in the bed, wiping his damp hand against his indigo boxers before pulling them back over his shaking hips and exposed cock. “You’re one to talk.” He murmurs, twisting his head to the side to press a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead. “You don’t happen to have a wash cloth handy, do you?”
“I have tissues in my bedside table.” Y/N points to the object in question, and Harry reaches over and tugs open the drawer to retrieve the box of Kleenex. Pulling a few squares from the box, he makes quick work of the cleanup, doing just enough to save him from the trouble of a sticky stomach.
“I could’ve done that, you know. Cleaned you up.” Y/N watches as the vampire stands to dispose of the used tissues, and reaches for her discarded panties to tug them back over her still shaky legs. “You know I like it.”
“I know, but if you did, then I would’ve broken the no sex rule right then and there.” Harry chuckles lightly as he climbs back onto the bed, wanting to reclaim his close proximity to Y/N as soon as possible. “And we’d already come so far.”
When he opens his arms, Y/N doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his cool chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true.”
Harry lets his jeweled fingers trace down her back, drawing random shapes on the damp skin as her breathing begins to even out. “Did you like it?” He asks curiously, a seed of worry planted within the words. “Having someone watch you?”
“I liked having you watch me.” Y/N clarifies her answer as if it were the most natural and easily explainable thing in the world. “Did you like watching?”
Harry giggles again, almost incredulous as he nods his head at the damp spot on his boxers, a symptom of the copious amounts of precum that had leaked from him. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, Watson. I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself has to ask.”
“Asking questions is never a bad thing, Holmes. I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself doesn’t know that.” The girl counters, delighting in the small laugh that shakes Harry’s shoulders. A laugh falls from her lips as well, followed quickly by a yawn that she unsuccessfully tries to stifle.
“Tired?” Harry murmurs, his fingers still keeping a steady pace against her back. “It’s only the late afternoon— not exactly late enough for bedtime, is it?”
Y/N sighs into his musky skin, relaxing completely against Harry’s body. “Not exactly, no. But I think a little post-orgasm nap may be in order.” She raises her head from the crook of Harry’s neck, looking at him with soft eyes. “Will you stay?”
If Harry’s heart could beat, the tender question would make his rhythm irregular, and the knowledge of that fact dries out the venom that had been flowing freely through Harry’s mouth. “Wow.” He tries to disguise the reaction with a laugh. “Our first date, and you’re already asking me to sleep over? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Shut up.” The mortal nudges her forehead against his shoulder in a playful manner. “I’m serious. Will you? I sleep a lot better when you’re here.”
The confession falls from her lips as easily as a sigh, but her words lock Harry’s chest in a tight chain, restricting his every breath. And yet… the pressure is comforting, like a hug from someone you haven’t seen in years and you’ve sorely missed.
“Alright, yeah.” He whispers gently, caressing Y/N’s mussed hair without tugging on any tangles. “I’ll stay. We can order some dinner later, if you want.”
Y/N’s voice is already far away when she replies. “That sounds nice.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering closed as her full weight falls against Harry. Within a few minutes, her breathing has leveled completely in time with her steady heart beat, which thunders against Harry’s own silent chest.
The vampire sighs as he shifts on the bed, keeping Y/N locked in place against his body as he does so. How did he end up here, in her bed, staring at that fucking tapestry again? How did he end up agreeing to stay over, to grab dinner with her after she sleeps? How does he know that, if she asks again, he’ll stay over tonight as well, even if it means lying still in bed and counting her heart beats until the sun rises through her curtains?
And why does that sound so appealing?
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Harry shifts Y/N onto her own pillow, removing her from his chest with gentle movements. Once he’s arranged her in a comfortable position and made sure that she’s still asleep, he cages himself over her, brushing her hair back from her face and inhaling deeply. This is why, he thinks. This is why he’s agreed to all of these dates, to holding her as she sleeps, to spending night after night in this tiny human apartment. Her blood.
Harry nudges his nose along the length of her throat, breathing in her fragrance as if it were the bouquet of a fine wine. Her signature honey and lavender scent is as prominent as ever, only amplified by the orgasm-triggered endorphins that are still swimming through her veins. Letting his lips drag over her fragile skin, Harry smudges kisses along the base of her throat with a light touch, searching for the most tender part that he’s come to adore. When he reaches the mark just above her carotid artery, he presses a firmer kiss to the skin, admiring how the mortal’s breath floats from her lips in her sleep. Still, he pauses for a moment to make sure that the sound is just that, a symptom of sleep, and once his suspicions are confirmed, Harry sinks his teeth into Y/N’s satin skin.
As usual, the relief is instantaneous. The warm blood that flows into his mouth quells the dry, burning ache in the back of his throat like nothing else, and Harry clutches the girl closer to him as he drinks more and more. She’s just as sweet as she smells, and there’s that familiar depth of flavour to her that Harry can never quite place a finger on. Perhaps he could if he spent more time analyzing it, but it’s never too long before he loses himself in her taste, and all rational thought goes out the window completely. In the reflection of her mirror, Harry can see that his eyes are blood red and black-veined, and that he looks every bit the monster that he actually is. If Y/N were to wake up right now and see him like this—pale skin, black veins, mouth stained red with her blood—she’d probably scream in horror, and do her best to shove the supernatural creature away. She would be thoroughly repulsed, Harry is sure. And, honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He remembers the first time he saw the red of a vampire’s eyes, and the terror that had seized his entire body like an icy dip in the English Channel. It would only be a natural response.
Harry had come to terms with what he is a very long time ago, and though it took a lot of trial and error, a lot of sleepless nights doused with self-loathing and denial, and a plethora of blurry memories full of strangers’ veins bulging under soft skin and glassy eyes dulled by compulsion, he is in a place in his eternal life where his identity doesn’t phase his peace of mind anymore. He hadn’t become a monster willingly, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy having to do the unspeakable acts required for his survival— not consciously, anyways.
From an instinct-driven perspective, he does enjoy the taste of blood, but it’s only because his supernatural carnal impulses demand it. Ethically, he isn’t proud of his affinity, but it’s not like he has any say in the matter. This isn’t his fault— he was forced to become what he is— and that moral claim is what has kept him tethered to his last few shreds of humanity for the past twenty decades. He’s not doing this to Y/N out of malicious intent, he’s doing it because he has no other choice. Therefore, he assures himself that the traces of guilt tightening his chest at the moment are completely misled and invalid. He hasn’t felt guilt much before— not for years— and he refuses to let it plague him once again. This is just the way things are. This is just the way things have to be.
So why does he feel so fucking shitty right now?
Pushing the discomforting dwellings to the back of his mind, Harry continues to drink from Y/N, using his final remaining strains of functioning thought to monitor the human’s heart beat and breaths. When his thirst is satiated enough, and before either one of those human traits begins to falter, Harry releases his bite on Y/N’s neck, licking over the wound with relish to temporarily seal it. He turns to check his reflection in the mirror again, and finds that, yes, his suspicions are confirmed. Although he’s managed to keep himself halfway presentable, there’s still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and his lips are stained a dark merlot colour from the sweet substance. Harry swipes his tongue along his mouth, cleaning up any evidence of his late afternoon snack, before bringing his index finger to his mouth and pricking the tip on one of his fangs. Then, while carefully holding the girl’s jaw open with his other hand, Harry slips his finger into her mouth. It’s practically a ritual by now.
It takes only a few seconds for the bite mark on her neck to heal completely, leaving behind only a faint purple bruise in its place. If Y/N were to see it tomorrow, she’d assume it was a half-healed hickey, and wouldn’t bat an eye at it. She’d have no idea that the real cause of it was—
“Harry…” His name falls from her lips with a quiet stutter, her brow furrowing as if troubled by something the vampire can’t see. “Harry…”
“Y/N?” He whispers in reply, his limbs sealing over with ice as he freezes in place as if he were a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Everything alright, love?”
“Harry…” The human utters his name once more as a frown begins to tug at her pillowy lips, and it takes another moment of her shifting in the bed for Harry to realize that she’s still asleep, and the murmuring of his name is merely a symptom of her dreaming of him.
Oh. She’s dreaming of him.
There’s a spark of something in his chest—happiness? Excitement?— but it’s quickly extinguished by the realization that, if Y/N is dreaming of him, her body language is making it clear that the dream isn’t a pleasant one.
Harry releases a frustrated sigh as he sinks back down into the sheets. That’s to be expected, really. After all, he did just feed from her; if she’s having a bad dream about him, it would only be logical.
Still, the sight of her shifting in bed with a distressed look on her face pulls an equally distressed look from the immortal, and he only hesitates for a moment before carefully maneuvering the girl back onto his chest, positioning her so that he can easily rub her warm back with his cool hands.
“You’re alright.” He murmurs softly into her ear, his voice low and melodic despite no one being around to hear it. “You’re fine, sweetheart. I’m here, hm? Go back to sleep.”
It takes a few more minutes of back rubbing, whispering, and a handful of strategically placed forehead kisses, but Y/N’s face finally relaxes as she falls back into a deep, untroubled slumber against Harry’s chest. As her breathing evens out again, Harry breathes a gentle exhale of relief. That was a close call. The next time he feeds, he’ll have to make sure she’s truly unconscious, and has been so for a while. Her bad dream, whatever it was, had probably been caused by him digging into her prematurely. Next time, he’ll wait until the dead of night, when she’s deep in REM sleep. She’ll be more comfortable then.
Which reminds him— he has plans he has to cancel tonight, and the sleeping girl on his chest mixed with his phone being in his trouser pocket on the floor make a difficult combo to surpass.
Despite the testing task, Harry manages to retrieve his phone from his discarded linen pants after a few minutes of awkward stretching, some light grunting, and a few curse words, but he manages to do it without waking Y/N up (she moves a couple of times, but a few soft words and tender hushing Harry’s behalf sends her right back into her dreams). With one hand still wrapped around her back, Harry manages to type out a quick message to Niall.
Won’t be able to make it tonight— something came up with Y/N. Have fun at the bar.
Harry references her by name, knowing that Mitch had probably already blabbed to their entire friend group about the date he’d had, and about how a human girl had recently become the target of his fascination. Juicy gossip is indisputably one of the aspects that keeps eternity from growing stale, and the vampire’s crew believe that to be so more than anyone. There’s not a single doubt in his mind they’d eaten every word up, and that he’d probably get drilled on it later.
He keeps his phone clutched in his hand, waiting for a (sure to be ridiculing) reply from Niall that comes a few minutes later.
The girl from last time? Jesus, again? Weren’t you meeting her for brunch?
A small smirk tugs at the corner of Harry’s lip. I did meet her for brunch. And then I met her back at her apartment, and I’ll probably be meeting her again later after we get some dinner. Don’t wait up.
After that text, Harry drops his phone on the bedside table, expecting Niall to just leave him on read in a fit of annoyance. He’s surprised, however, to hear the quiet vibration of his phone a moment later, and picks it up to skim the message with pressing curiosity.
You’re a fucking incubus, you know that?
The smirk on Harry’s swollen lips suddenly drops.
While it’s not the first time he’s been called an incubus, it is the first time the label has ever bothered him. Why is that? It’s not like it’s untrue; he frequently seduces various people, many of them being women, in order to sleep with them and drink their blood. That’s what an incubus does. The label shouldn’t pester him. In fact, it should boost his ego.
But the title being applied to his relationship with Y/N… that gives him pause. It reminds him of a certain person— a certain disgrace, if he’s being pettily honest— who he had sworn never to think about again, out of respect for his sanity and emotional stability. It reminds him of how when he himself was mortal, he was under similar circumstances to what Y/N is under right now— he was a human blood bag to a vampire who took pleasure in his body.
This is different, Harry tells himself. I’m not going to ruin her life. She’s not going to end up like me. And we have an understanding, which I never got to have. This isn’t the same. I’m...I’m not the same.
In his steadfast opinion, the immortal isn’t an incubus when it comes to Y/N and it’s that simple, point blank. Saying he is… that sets the implication that he could be doing this with anyone, and that’s just not true. Even though he’s keeping Y/N around as a convenient fuck with delicious blood, he wouldn’t go to this much trouble for anyone else; no one else is worth it. No one else has her honey and lavender scent, or contagious laugh, or can match him so easily in banter without flinching or blinking an eye. And though he’s too attached to his own pride— to the inherent coldness and indifference he’d worked so hard to build over the last two centuries— to let her know, he’ll admit that there’s no one else like her. There’s no one who’s company he enjoys quite the same.
Harry doesn’t indulge Niall with a response, simply closing his phone and setting it back on the bedside table. His friend can think what he wants, Harry decides, returning his attention to tracing figures on Y/N’s back. Harry knows what this really is. He knows, and it’s not some evil plan to permanently damage her. It’s just a simple loose relationship between two people who float an inch above the friendzone. That’s all.
Friends, just slightly more.
#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles series#vampire!harry#vampire!harry styles#vampire!au#harry styles#one direction fanfiction#one direction fic#one direction imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles dirty fanfiction#harry styles au#vampire au#writing#ysijwa
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Eclipse
Pairing— Day Fairy!Hoseok x Night fairy!reader
Genre— SMUT, fae au, angst, idiots to lovers
Warnings— Oral (F receiving), nipple play, explicit unprotected sex, hair pulling, both praise and slight derogatory dirty talk bc I can’t make up my mind, slight swearing
Word Count— 3.3k
Summary— The summer solstice is here and it’s time to celebrate. Your favorite part of the solstice is that you get to see Hoseok, or rather, the love of your life. It’s too bad you haven’t told him how you really felt, even though it has been centuries. Maybe this year will be different.
A/N— This fic is part of The Fabled Collab hosted by @joontopia, @kimtaehyunq, and @whipped-for-kpop-fics. Hoseok is my sunshine, so I just had to write about him! Thank you to @s0seo and @taegularities for giving me motivation to write. Lastly, huge shoutout to Eden from @thebiasrekkers for making this awesome banner for me! As always, let me know how you guys like the fic! My askbox is always open <3
Fae clans have many holidays and rituals, but solstices are by far the most celebrated. Solstices mark the pivotal event that shifts the seasonal responsibilities between the sun and moon clans. The summer and winter solstice are always the biggest events of the year, with about a week of festivities leading up to the final event.
Sweat ran down your spine as the sun beat down on you. You’ve been holding up a stupid banner for what felt like an eternity.
“Okay wait, you’re gonna hate me but I think we should put it back to where we originally had it,” Sunghoon said with furrowed brows.
“That’s it. We’ve been doing this all morning. Figure this out yourself,” you angrily threw down the banner and stormed off before Sunghoon had the chance to yell at you.
You ignored the friendly calls from other fae that were setting up decor nearby. It was way past your bedtime. Cranky and drenched in sweat, you were definitely not a happy night fairy. Heading straight to the pond, you derobed and found comfort in the cool waters that washed away your stress instantly. You gazed up at the blue sky while floating on your back. The day truly was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. However, nighttime was better in your very much biased opinion. The dark sky littered with countless stars that glittered like diamonds was an unbeatable sight.
“Hey there sunshine!” a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You dipped back into the water and turned to the source of the sound.
“Hey there, perv. Care to join me?” you beckoned.
“I wish I could, but I need to go finalize some plans for the handoff ceremony--”
“It’s the same EVERY year. C’mon Hobi, you don’t need to go,” you whined.
“I’ll meet you back here at sunset, how does that sound?” he tried to appease you.
“Midnight. I’m already exhausted, I don’t wanna wake up early,” you blew raspberries into the pond.
“That’s fair. I’ll see you then okay?” Hoseok waved before flying off.
On top of parties filled with indulgences that would blow the mind of any feeble human, Hoseok was the added bonus that made you eager for each solstice. Admittedly, you two have had some sort of flirtationship going on for the past few centuries. Your friends always teased you about how madly head over heels you were for him. As much as you wanted to believe that he loved you in the same way, something always felt off.
Hoseok always reciprocated your flirtatious advances, but it felt more like a game between friends rather than something substantial. You’ve even observed his interactions with other fairies, and it didn’t seem like he gave you any special treatment. He was simply a good friendly guy that everyone loved, but not the way that you loved him.
You were dying to know how he truly felt about you. All these years of playful banter had been fun, but they had also been simultaneously eating away at you. There’s no way he doesn’t know that you love him. At the same time, what if he thinks you’re just a good friend? You needed to know for sure, and you intended to confront him about it at midnight.
“Good evening,” you greeted Hoseok shyly as you approached the pond’s bank.
“Good day to you sunshine,” Hoseok called back as he kicked at the water.
“How’d the meeting go?” you asked.
“Boring as always. You’re right, it’s the same every year. But the elders still want to go over everything again to ensure that the ceremony is perfect,” Hoseok sighed.
“Thanks for coming to hangout with me even though you’re so busy,” you said, suddenly feeling guilty.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all day! You’re the perfect person to unwind with after a long day,” Hoseok smiled. There it was. The radiant smile you fell for the first time you ever met him.
“You sure I’m the perfect person for that? What do you do when you’re back in your own land surrounded by other day fae?” you prodded, hoping to steer the conversation onto the ‘what are we’ topic.
“I have my friends there for sure, and I appreciate them too. But it’s different with you. Maybe because I can only hangout with you twice a year. You’re like my super special friend, yaknow?” Hoseok tried to explain.
“Uh yeah, for sure. Like a special playdate kind of thing huh?” you tried to hide your hurt feelings.
“Exactly! You get it. It’s like you’re my favorite dessert that I can only have twice a year,” Hoseok nodded.
“Right…” you whispered softly to yourself. You spent the rest of the night listening to the unfruitful discussions Hoseok had during his meetings. All the excitement over the festival had drained from you. Now, you just wanted it to be over so you can go sulk in peace.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Hoseok observed, “You haven’t interjected once about how stupid our traditions are or how you’re looking forward to having long nights again.”
“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m just tired. Sunghoon really worked me to the bone yesterday, that damn day fairy,” you faked a yawn.
“Hey, be nice! Wasn’t it you who volunteered to help us anyway?” Hoseok shook his head.
‘Yeah, because I thought I’d be able to work with you,’ you thought.
“It was a bizarre streak of altruism, that’s all,” you shrugged.
“Nah, I know you’re a kind fairy deep down!” Hoseok playfully nudged your shoulder. Normally you would welcome this type of physical affection, but for right now it served as a painful reminder that you were merely seen as a buddy.
You actively avoided Hoseok for the remainder of the week, counting down the hours to when it would finally all be over. You made up some lame excuse to not hangout with Hoseok every time he approached you. He must have caught on by the final day, either that or he was extremely busy. Afterall, he was the MC for the entire ordeal.
Apparently, your abrasive reputation preceded you because no one wanted your help with anything. As soon as they saw you coming, they would randomly find themselves very preoccupied with something that made them too busy to talk to you. The only person who would put you to work was Sunghoon, who was one of Hoseok’s best friends. You wondered why he was always so nice to you even when you complained the entire time you helped him.
“That’s the last table! They all look great, thanks for helping with the set up,” Sunghoon gave you a thumbs up.
“You know it’s pointless setting up all these tables. Most of the fairies are just gonna be dancing or fucking all night long, no one is gonna be sitting down,” you said.
“Are you gonna be one of the fairies partying?” Sunghoon inquired.
“Definitely not,” you answered curtly.
“Then I’m happy at least one of these tables will be utilized,” Sunghoon nodded, “Try to enjoy yourself tonight okay?”
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.
The entire forest seemed to come alive that night. The trees swayed with the enchanting music while cheers of merriment erupted around the party scene. You sat alone at a mushroom table with your third (or was it fourth?) cup of berry wine. You glared at the fairies who had lost themselves to their pleasures, whether it be the wine or the toadstools, or perhaps even both. Fairies who had given into their more lustful urges could be seen on the outskirts of the dance floor, some in the innocent stages of kissing and others entangled full fledged fornication. Scoffing at the obscene orgy, you stumbled off to get another cup of wine. Even though you weren’t really participating, you had to admit that fairies knew how to throw a party.
“Hey ___, I noticed you’ve been by yourself the whole evening. Want some company?” someone asked behind you as you filled up your mug to the brim. You turned to see two Sunghoons merge to become one hazy Sunghoon in the blink of an eye.
“F-ffuck off Sunghoon,” you slurred.
“I wanted to thank you for all the hard work you did for this year’s summer solstice,” Sunghoon continued, unfazed by your harshness, “Wanna dance to celebrate?”
“Nope,” you answered as you pushed him aside.
“Yeah she seemed pretty pissed dude,” Sunghoon said while taking a large swig.
“At you or in general?” Hoseok inquired.
“Dunno man, she’s always been like that. However, she seemed more aggravated than usual, which is hard to imagine,” Sunghoon chuckled, “Did you do something to her?”
“No! I’ve been replaying everything we talked about at the pond but everything seemed fine! I even told her that she was my super special friend and---oh shit,” Hoseok’s face fell.
“Idiot,” Sunghoon tsked.
Both fae clans had gathered by the main stage, intently listening to the same speeches that the clan leaders have spoken for centuries. You watched apathetically as the everlasting flame was being formally handed over. The crowd roared as the flame changed from a deep crimson red to an icy silver color with a blue hue, signifying that the solstice had come to pass.
If the festival wasn’t wild before, it had only gotten more out of hand after the official ceremony. Seeing the other fairies go wild in every sense of the word made you nauseous. The noise level intensified as you watched your fairy brethren engage in rather promiscuous activities. Someone even beckoned for you to join in the fun, but you just walked away. The only person you wanted to have that kind of fun with was Hoseok. It infuriated you that your thoughts always drifted to him. You filled up your cup one last time and walked away from the ruckus, towards an empty grove. Hopefully you would be able to wallow in self pity in peace there.
The stars twinkled above you, and dim moonlight speckled the ground around you as it shone through the trees. You could still hear the party, but it was much fainter now and served as nice background noise to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. With a deep exhale, you fought to hold back tears. You felt so foolish. Too many years have been wasted in vain for an unrequited love that you should have seen coming. It was so stupid of you to hold onto a sliver of hope that Hoseok would like you back.
“The party is that way,” a familiar voice called out to you.
“Then why aren’t you there?” you didn’t try to mask the annoyance in your voice.
“I saw you walk away, I wanted to check up on you.”
“Why the fuck would you even care?” you sat up and hissed.
“Why are you being so hostile? You’re the one who has been avoiding me all week!” Hoseok raised his voice.
“I’m sure you didn’t have much time to spend with me anyway,” you huffed.
“That’s not true. I spent every moment of my free time looking for you, only for you to turn me away. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Hoseok calmed down.
“Fine. I’m in love with you, okay? How fucking embarrassing. It hurt when you said that I was your super best friend or whatever. Seeing you afterward just reminded me of how dumb I am,” you couldn’t make eye contact with him.
“Oh sunshine, I’m the idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re my special friend because I like you too. I wanted to spend every second with you this week. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I’m so sorry ____,” Hoseok got down on his knees and pulled you in for a hug. You were stunned.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner then!” you pushed him off.
“I thought it was obvious from the way we flirted!” he argued.
“You’re nice to everyone, it was hard for me to tell,” you pouted.
“My apologies for not being a sourpuss like you,” Hoseok laughed.
“So...what now? It wasn’t really a romantic confession but I guess our feelings are out in the open now,” you whispered as you leaned against him.
Suddenly, Hoseok pushed you back to the ground, straddling your hips. His dark hair nearly covered his eyes as he looked down at you. He was beyond beautiful, his white iridescent wings glittered ethereally in the moonlight.
“Remember when I said you’re like a dessert I can only have twice a year? I’d like to make that a reality,” Hobi smirked. He bent over to kiss you. It was soft at first, his plush lips pressing up against yours. He gently cupped your face with one hand while the other wandered to your chest, undoing your blouse. Lust overtook the both of you as the kiss deepened and Hoseok fondled your breasts. You let out a small gasp as he played with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.
“Spread those legs for me, sunshine,” he demanded.
You complied, slowly exposing yourself to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him while in such a compromising position. Hoseok gingerly kissed a trail along your inner thighs towards your core. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm under him in anticipation.
“So impatient,” he chuckled, “Let’s play a game. You have to make eye contact with me while I eat you out. Every time you look away, I stop.”
“You’re evil,” you huffed before reluctantly looking at the beautiful being perched between your legs.
“That’s my girl,” he purred approvingly before spreading your folds with his fingers. His eyes darkened with lust as you watched him lick tantalizingly slow stripes. He could feel your need for more, so he moved up to focus on your clit, giving it special attention as his tongue swirled around it.
You tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping him tighter as he licked your clit faster. All your composure was lost as you looked down at him with pleading eyes.
“What is it? Need more?” Hoseok teased as his fingers traced your entrance.
“Please,” you whimpered.
“Please what?” Hoseok feigned ignorance
“Please touch me,” you said softly.
“We need to work on your begging, but you’re so adorable I can’t say no,” Hobi dove back into stimulating your clit as he slipped a finger inside of you. He smirked at how easily he went in, and immediately added a second finger. The new feeling had you throwing your head back as he grazed your g-spot. Right as things began to feel good, he retracted everything.
“Hobi!” you cried out in frustration.
“You looked away. Remember the rules to our little game?” Hoseok chided. You glared down at him as he immediately picked up where he left off, not giving you time to readjust. Fighting back the urge to close your eyes, soft moans escaped from your lips.
“Ready to cum, my dear ___?” he asked sweetly as his fingers dipped to directly attack your g-spot.
There was no time to give a proper response. Your back arched and your toes curled up as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Drenched in your juices, Hoseok glistened under the moonlight.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Hoseok praised, “But I’m not finished with you yet,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear.
He unbuckled his trousers, releasing the monster that dangled between his legs. You willingly spread your legs for him, eager for more.
“So needy, you haven’t had enough yet?” Hoseok tsked as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds.
Finally, Hoseok began to bury himself into you. He took his time, relishing how your warm walls squeezed him. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, focusing on feeling every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to bring him impossibly closer. The dark lust that swam in his eyes broke for a second, replaced by the warm smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. He bent down to kiss you, and you happily reciprocated.
Hoseok moved his hips slowly as he fucked you at a deep yet gentle pace. Mouths still colliding, you shyly licked at his lips. Taking your hint, Hoseok’s tongue met yours. As the kisses deepened with more saliva being interchanged, Hoseok’s thrusts became harsher.
“You’re so fucking sexy. Lemme see that ass baby,” Hoseok growled as he flipped you over.
He smacked your ass twice and watched it jiggle in awe before placing a firm grip on your hips. Almost animalistically, he bucked into you. Your body jolted forward with each thrust. You had never been fucked this hard before, and it was heavenly. Hoseok’s control over his body movement was insane. Your moans grew louder as his hips continuously rolled into you.
One of Hoseok’s hands formed a tight grip on your hair, roughly bringing your head up off the ground. You couldn’t stop your wanton moans from filling the open air.
“H-Hoseok,” you cried out.
“What is it? Is it too much for you?” Hoseok cooed in your ear as he brought your head back even closer to him.
“Mmm-no,” was all you could make out.
“I knew you could take it all, such a good slut,” Hoseok praised as he let go of your hair.
Unable to hold yourself up, you immediately fell back onto your chest. Your fingernails dug into the dirt as you could feel another orgasm swelling up inside of you.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you wailed out.
“I’m almost there, wait for me baby,” Hoseok instructed.
With perfect timing, Hoseok let out a guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside of you. Sounds of pleasure bounced around the grove as you came in unison. Hoseok’s cum dripped down the sides of your inner thighs when he pulled out.
“How did I do, sunshine?” Hoseok asked jovially as you laid on the ground before him.
“You knocked me out. I don’t think I can move for a while,” you weakly answered with a smile.
“Not a problem, we can just stay here for a while, sunshine,” Hoseok laid down beside you, beckoning for you to rest atop his chest.
“I like when you call me that,” you yawned.
“Sunshine?” Hoseok asked.
“Yeah, that. It makes me feel special,” you nodded.
“Is that so? I’m glad it makes you feel special, because you are. You’ve always been the spunky night fairy that everyone knows but is too afraid to approach,” Hoseok laughed.
“What! I am totally friendly! Just not to those who piss me off,” you defended, “Which...I guess is a lot of people so I suppose I see your point. What made you want to be my friend if everyone thought I’m scary?”
“You treated me like everyone else. It always felt like people put on a fake facade around me since I’m the chief’s son. They’re nice to me to try and curry favor with my father, or maybe flirt with me to try and gain some special sort of status. I don’t know. I’m just me,” Hoseok shrugged.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re my sunshine,” you hugged him.
“That makes me feel great. I’ll do my best to see you more than twice a year, okay?” he kissed your forehead.
“I guess I can clear my schedule and come over to visit you too,” you giggled, “Or maybe we can run away and make a clan of our own.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to go somewhere where no one knows my name or expects anything from me.”
“How about we go to where the day meets the night?” you offered.
“Like what? An eclipse?” Hoseok said as he gazed into the night sky.
“Precisely. We can make an eclipse clan. We only have to do festivals for eclipses, and those are kinda rare,” you giggled.
“Sounds like a good dream, sunshine. Let’s seriously discuss it in the morning when we’re both more sober,” Hoseok kissed your forehead.
“Goodnight, my sunshine,” you whispered into his chest.
Published July 23, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.
#bts smut#jhope smut#hoseok smut#bangtanarmynet#btscreatorscorner#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#bts fanfic#jhope fanfic#hoseok fanfic
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Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (16)
Notes: minimal editing you know. also, did you guys think they were going to have a good date?!
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What could go wrong?
It was an excellent question with an even better answer:
Everything. Everything could go wrong and it absolutely fucking did.
You had been sitting, in a dress a little too tight and high as the sky heels that were insanely uncomfortable, for about twenty minutes when Matthew rolled into the restaurant. He was dressed in a tee shirt and joggers, clothing entirely too casual for the venue, and you could tell he’d been drinking.
“Sorry I’m late, had some stuff to do.”
You ignored the slight slur in his voice as you tried your best to smile at him, “you’re here now,” it was clipped but he didn’t notice.
“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he pulled his chair out and plopped into it, completely ignoring you as he dove into the bread sitting in the middle of the table.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Matthew.”
He had downed two pieces of bread by the time you spoke up and after you did, his eyes stayed on the food in his hands.
“You ask me out on a date, show up drunk and underdressed, and pay more attention to the appetizer than to me, this is such fucking bullshit.”
You were seeing red, and it wasn’t just the color of the carpet beneath your heels. He laughed to himself and continued to smash on the bread as you fished your phone out of your purse and ordered an Uber.
This was a mistake and you should have known better.
You were pretty sure Matthew didn’t even realize you excused yourself from the table and left the restaurant but you made sure to stop your server on the way out and order three bottles of the most expensive wine in house before you left, ensuring he was left with an extravagant bill. It was petty, but you couldn’t care less.
++
The cookies and the nighttime city views were nice but they were just another one of those fleeting moments where Matthew acted like a human with real emotions. Showing up for the date drunk and dressed in casual clothes had you seething and you spent the entirety of your ride back to your apartment with you fists clenched so tight your fingernails left little crescent shaped indents in your palms.
“He’s a fucking asshole, Onyx, he’s such a fucking asshole and that was his last chance. It’s like, he’ll do one nice thing only to follow it up with something so shitty it’s like he didn’t even do the nice thing in the first place.”
Unamused, Onyx continued to lick his paws and ignore your rant. You huffed at this, “You’re a shit listener, bud.”
Your cat might have been a shit listener but you knew someone that wasn’t.
I know it’s late, you started a message to Brady, but your brother is such a fucking dick and I had to remind you of it.
Your phone was ringing less than five minutes later.
“I know you had a date tonight, what the fuck happened?”
“Hello to you too, Brady.”
“Hi. What happened?”
As you recounted the evening’s events to the younger Tkachuk brother, the irritation you felt earlier in the night began to make its way back into your head and based on Brady’s responses, you weren’t the only one in a bad mood because of the way things went down.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? He’s really self-sabotaging the fuck out of this and I almost want you to tell him to kick fucking rocks permanently.”
“I’m ready to do that, honestly. It was so fucking embarrassing. The wait staff were all giving me those sympathetic looks and whispering to each other while I sat at a table by my fucking self until he got there and made me look even more stupid. I got dressed up, I made a fucking effort and he made a mockery of the entire ‘date.’”
“I know, I don’t blame you for being pissed. He’s not usually this bad at dealing with women, he doesn’t have a shit ton of game but he’s handled this whole situation with you absolutely fucking wrong.”
The two of you talked for a little longer before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You weren’t sure what was going on between yourself and Matthew anymore but it was obvious that it wasn’t working out and after tonight, you were tired of it.
It was time to put whatever this was to bed for good.
Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you leaned back against the couch and sent Matthew a text message: Hey Matthew, so tonight didn’t go as planned and it’s fine. I think it’s best for us to just have a professional relationship anyway. If you need to contact me, you can email me whenever. See you at work.
It wasn’t the most eloquent message you’d ever typed but hopefully it would get the point across. You read it one final time before pressing send, and as soon as ‘delivered’ appeared under the bubble, you blocked his number.
*
He woke up to the sound of a blaring alarm and a splitting headache. He also realized, after a few moments of finding his bearings, he wasn’t in his own bed.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
It wasn’t a voice he wanted to hear, “morning Eden.”
“I’m curious, Matty,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “why were you at a such fancy place in such shitty clothes?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you called me, you were at that fancy French place downtown by yourself. When I got there, you were deep into a bottle of expensive wine at a table that was clearly set for two. What’s going on?”
Her voice was sickly sweet but despite his pounding headache, Matthew knew there was something accusatory hidden behind it.
“I was celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
She was digging a bit too deep for someone that was just a casual hookup and it was starting to piss him off.
“The end of our arrangement.”
He ignored the pain in his temples and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Making his way through her apartment to put on his shoes and get the fuck out of there, he ignored her whining behind him.
“Bye Eden,” he said before slamming the door on her and heading out into the cold Calgary air.
It wasn’t until he went to order an Uber that he realized he had a bunch of unread text messages, most of them from Brady, but only one from her.
Opening the text from her first, his heart sank when he read it. What the fuck had he done?
As his Uber headed toward his apartment, Matthew read over the texts from Brady and, thought he couldn’t really remember the night before, it was pretty fucking obvious that he had ruined everything.
He had ruined everything and there wasn’t really even anything to ruin yet.
Matthew took the elevator to her floor and slowly made his way down the hall toward her door, they were off today, she was most likely home. He stopped in front of her door but he couldn’t bring himself to knock.
He was the one that left her sitting alone in a restaurant looking like a million fucking dollars while he showed up late, drunk and underdressed. Peanut butter cookies and his best version of puppy eyes weren’t going to fix this. She wanted a strictly professional relationship and Matthew had to respect that, especially after all the shit he’d put her through.
The sound of the elevator hitting his floor pulled him out of his thoughts and he noticed a bag sitting in front of his door. As he approached, Matthew noticed the logo on the bag and a piece of paper taped to it.
“You left without these, figured you’d want them because you paid. Got your address from the reservation application. I hope you can figure things out, that girl you were supposed to meet was an absolute catch. Dave, wait staff.”
As if he needed reminding. Two bottles of the expensive wine she had spite ordered sat in the bag. Matthew unlocked his apartment and took them inside, pulling them out of the bag and throwing the note away, only to tape a new one on one of the bottles.
*
You hadn’t planned to check your email at all but work was work and you loved your job. It was the usual shit and you promised yourself this was the last time you would refresh until you closed your laptop.
A message from Matthew Tkachuk popped up, sent seven minutes ago. No message content but the subject read: I’m sorry, check your door.
You were off your couch faster than you cared to admit.
“What the fuck,” you said to yourself, grabbing the bottles of wine and bringing them inside.
They were easily recognizable. It was the wine you ordered on your date with Matthew and you were shocked to see them sitting outside your door. What was most surprising though, was the note attached to one of the bottles.
‘Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer.’
*
If all she wanted was a professional relationship, Matthew would be the best damn coworker she’d ever had.
He placed the bottles gently on the floor and decided against knocking, choosing instead to go back up to his place and send her a ‘professional' email.
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Slithered Here From Eden - Princewitch
KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS!!! I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW SPOILERY THIS FIC IS. THE HEIGHT OF SPOILERS!! THE PEAK OF SPOILERS!! THIS IS A VERY LOUD WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DONT WISH TO BE SPOILED THANK YOUUUUUU
anyways here is my first princewitch fic!! i hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any ideas for fics for those two. im a little nervous to put this out here - ive written only cressworth and original stuff for a while, so im kinda nervous this wont be in character or will be weird in my style. anyway, please let me know if you like this, and if its something you want more of. im already working on a few others, courtesy of @duchess-of-nothing-and-nowhere ‘s brilliant ideas, but send in any requests you have!!! i hope you guys enjoy, thank you!!!!!
---
Hell was, well, hell.
Her husband was busy doing whatever kings of Hell did in their spare time, which she was thankful for. She didn’t wish to run into any of the Wicked, but Pride was close to the top of the list. Not the worst offender, however. The Prince she’d once tentatively called an ally had claimed that spot with his spectacularly humiliating betrayal.
The worst part was that she still didn’t understand. His motives, his feelings, his aims - all were shrouded in mystery, one that seemed to taunt her at every twist and turn. Bastard.
Contrary to her preconceptions, her rooms were actually rather beautiful. Similar to the style of the house Wrath had rented in Palermo, but it felt different. Darker. Her quarters were styled in black and gold, with serpent scones lining the walls. The fire flickered in a menacing fashion, though she’d long since learned it had more bark than bite.
Shadows crept along the floor until they curled at her feet like a cat, announcing the presence of the one demon prince she wished to see the least.
“What do you want.” Emilia barely gave him a glance before he walked him, arrogance pouring off him. As if he owned the damn place.
Infuriatingly beautiful as usual, he wore a dark suit, flecked with golden patterns, not unlike the tattoo she knew adorned his shoulder. Her attention flicked to the wicker basket he held gingerly in his hands. Covered with a soft blue tea towel, it looked like something plucked off the streets of her home, not something that belonged within the obsidian walls of the kingdom where wickedness ruled with abandon.
Silence was his only reply as he looked her up and down. The gaze threatened to set her alight; with rage or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure. Once, the bed that loomed behind her would’ve offered a taunting distraction and a fragile but desperate wish. Now, it only annoyed her, reminding her of the moments she’d failed so magnificently at seeing through his façade.
Still no response. They hadn’t spoken since her wedding, and their last words had been less of a conversation and more of throwing of well-deserved insults on her behalf. He’d told her that she knew nothing of his motivations, and to assume he wished her harm was foolish. She’d told him a few carefully chosen expletives, complete with a hand gesture that would’ve had her mother wringing her hands. Wrath had spent the days prior skulking outside her quarters, never saying a word, only letting his shadows pollute her already foul mood. She might’ve had the slightest amount of sympathy for him, had he not betrayed her, lied to her, married her to his brother and thoroughly pissed her off in the process.
He placed the basket down on the table at the other side of the room. Looking up, Wrath raised a carefully groomed brow. Apparently, princes of Hell had beauty routines.
His mood was undetectable through his face, but the shadows that followed him gave it away, if only slightly. They were the same dark as a summer night; dark enough for comfort, but not the soulless black pitch she’d seen him wear so often. An interesting combination for a prince who seemed to care not a whit whether she lived or died after he’d gotten what he wanted.
Wrath pulled back the cloth covering the basket to reveal – food. A carefully curated selection of her favourites, smelling like they’d been plucked off the serving plates of the Sea & Vine.
She nearly salivated at the sight – the food she’d eaten in Hell had been a sore spot for her. Though nothing was wrong with it, it lacked the love of homemade food. The flavour that came with knowing that someone lovingly made every single bite. There were no laughing families who cooked here, no fathers to taste-test, or sisters to tease while they made sangria side by side.
“How on earth did you find this?” The words slipped out before she could correct herself. ‘Earth’ was perhaps not the right term, though she couldn’t truly tell where she was. Under, felt more accurate. Below.
He looked at her as if she was missing the obvious – and she was.
The food smelt like she was used to because it was what she was used to. The same recipes, made with the same care as every meal that came from the Sea & Vine kitchens.
Panic enveloped her faster than joy.
“Did you hurt them?” She hissed, desperately searching his appearance for any sign of violence. He was wearing black, that much was true, but either he cleaned up exceptionally well, or there was no blood to be found.
“Hurt them?” Wrath’s tone was even, but she could hear how he scoffed. The nerve, “No. I even paid for it.”
Her heart still beat fast enough to burst from her chest, so he continued, “Relax, witch. No harm has come to them, nor will it, if you comply with my brother’s terms.” There was no audible threat in his tone, but she knew it went without saying. Comply, be Pride’s blooded wife, or her family would receive the same fate as Vittoria. It hurt to even think about, however brief the thought was.
She was going to throw something right at his beautiful, awful face. Maybe the basket, once she was finished devouring her favourites. Wrath would certainly look ridiculous enough with a basket slammed over his head, if he didn’t kill her first.
“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you fear.” Emilia blinked, unsure how to respond. He seemed to be lingering, if demon princes could ever linger. Why wouldn’t he leave?
She nodded, restraining a biting retort about how she was sure that fact was a deep disappointment for him. Remembering the odd rules of demonhood, she thanked him.
Still, he wouldn’t leave. Just stood there, watching her with those golden eyes that peered into her very soul, reaching inside and setting her alight. His gaze was unnerving.
Her patience, which had thinned dramatically since becoming a co-ruler of Hell, waned, “Are you waiting for payment?”
He laughed. Actually laughed. A short, biting sound, but a laugh nonetheless.
“I could smell your foul mood from my own House. Perhaps this will appease you.”
Appease her. As if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t tricked her, lied to her by omission, made her into an even greater fool than the one she was.
“Perhaps if you deigned to be truthful, I would be more polite.” Lies, but worth a try. If only he would tell her something, anything by way of explanation. Even if it was brutally cruel and benefitting a member of the Wicked. Anything but the agony of anticipation.
Apparently this evening was full of more surprises, because Wrath then pulled out a chair, and gestured for her to sit down, like they weren’t sworn enemies. The thought of a biting retort was attractive, but the smell of food was too much. The scent of all her favourites, food she’d spent hours labouring over in the past, wafted towards her like an irresistible gift.
The basket held everything she dreamt of. Wrath laid the table with his harvest as she tried not to gape at the sight. Twin glasses of sangria, somehow still delightfully cold. The comforting smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeated the air. Plates piled high with a mix of all her favourite things: a selection of antipasto, a side plate of bruschetta, a bowl of pasta, and a small dish of cannoli. If she closed her eyes, and forgot the presence of the prince in front of her, she could picture being back home, surrounded by her family and loved ones. If she thought hard enough, she could faintly smell Vittoria’s favourite perfume, the one she made for herself.
When she opened her eyes, the dream faded away, and there was only Wrath sitting across from her. Despite all the effort she presumed he must’ve taken to fetch the food, he sat watching like he thought it was attack him. Or she would. A laugh escaped her lips, almost hysterical, at the situation. Her, Queen of Hell, sat with her husband’s brother, another demon prince, as they ate food from her family’s restaurant. Comical, if disturbing.
“It won’t bite,” She said, eagerly helping herself to a plate. His eyes flickered with the promise of his bite, and she fought to keep any sign of her reaction off her face. Now was not the time to think of his kiss, or goddess forbid, his tongue. Watching carefully, he followed suit, piling his plate high with a mirror of her own. If she didn’t know the strength that lurked beneath that bronze skin and manicured hands, she would’ve called it sweet.
The food was – the food was heavenly. The taste of home, the love of her family, the promise of safety offered in those few bites brought her more joy than she thought possible. She wanted to stretch out the meal forever, as long as time would permit. If this was the last time she would taste such heaven, she wanted to remember it.
Despite her anger at the demon sitting across from her, curiosity embedded itself in her mind. How could he have known? How could he have known this was exactly what she needed, what her soul craved? Just as he’d done with the orange blossoms after Lust, he’d somehow known her mind and soul needing nourishment, and brought it as a gift to her door. Perhaps there would be a price to be paid, someday, but for now, her happiness was enough.
It was ridiculous and Nonna would’ve scolded her dearly, but it was the first semblance of normal she’d had since signing her name over to Pride. The meal sent flashbacks of the time she’d spent after Lust had invaded her mind; the days she’d spent lying in bed, a stranger in her own body, while Wrath sat like a comforting guardian demon. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d delivered her meals thrice daily, and never left her side unless to fetch her clothes from his mysterious source, or to give her privacy if she’d asked. He’d even brought her reading materials, though they were filled with battle strategies, not the steamy romances she craved. At the time, she’d thought it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, Wrath was different. Now, she only felt the white-hot flush of shame. Her appetite faded, and she pushed the plate away.
He catalogued her change in mood with a barely perceptible nod of his head. Truly, she had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes she thought he was terrified for her, her witch-blood and mortal heart acting as a beacon for all those whom Pride had made an enemy. Sometimes she thought he wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and she begged him for release. Sometimes she thought her presence disgusted him to a never-ending degree. A mystery.
“You need to be careful,” He broke the silence with a warning, as if she treated Hell like a stroll along Sicilian streets.
“It would help if you told me anything.” She hated the petulant near-whine of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. She had nothing and no-one in the world, but she needed an ally. Or, if she couldn’t have that, information would have to do.
“I’ve already told you too much.” Lies. Complete lies.
Her questioning had bored him, she assumed, as he stood up to go, leaving the remnants of their meal scattered around them. Wrath cast one last look at her before stalking out, taking the shadows with him.
Just as she was about to curse his name, she spotted a bouquet of orange blossoms on the dresser.
Bastard.
---
Let me know if you want to be added to my KOTW tag list!!
Tags: @shadowturtlesstuff @otome-azarada @chococannolii @beccalovesbooksstuff
#princewitch#kingdom of the wicked#prince wrath#emilia di carlo#emilia x wrath#my fics#kotw fic#the thought of wrath slithering up to her door like a fucking cat is SO funny to me you know hes going through it book 2
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mixtape | track twelve
| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |
Indy wondered why people in her life seemed to fixate on sunshine, as if it somehow fixed things. When she and Charlie were small and the sun was out, her parents were ushering them outside to get some fresh air, telling them it was good for them. Her first day of high school, when she was nauseous in the passenger seat at the thought of a new place with a new class schedule, her dad had said ‘at least it’s warm today’. The day of Nicole’s funeral, between the sympathetic smiles and awkward glances, Indy had lost count of the amount of people who commented on the beautiful sunshine outside that her mother wasn’t there to see. It grated on Indiana’s nerves, and she found herself enjoying the rainy days more in the years after her mother’s death, when the clouds were heavy and wet, booming with thunder she could feel shaking her floor. She sat at her windows and watched it fall, watched the world have to shift to accommodate a change in the sky, change in a way that it never did for her when she needed it to.
The week before Bekah died, it rained every day.
Monday marked seven days without treatment, and the effects were starting to show. Bekah had lost more weight, which Indy wasn’t even sure was possible. She kept her blankets on her at all times, the Christmas and Halloween ones layers on top of each other.
She still shivered.
The rain fell outside the window, and Indy sat on the sill, thankful for the cold glass against her arm. It kept her in the moment, kept her mind in the room instead of in Los Angeles, wondering what was going through Grayson’s head that made him continue to ignore her calls. She didn’t have the energy to be pissed at him for leaving her abandoned - instead she was just worried, worried about the guilt she knew would overtake him when she finally was able to get ahold of him.
Indiana’s schedule was PRN - meaning they only called her into the hospital when she was needed. She couldn’t tell if they actually did need her and were too nice to say, or if they were fully staffed, but they didn’t call her. Patrick had put his foot down with her hours at Jet’s too, and said he’d keep her on payroll as long as he could so she kept her benefits, but that he wasn’t putting her on the schedule either.
So she put her skills to use for Bekah, and Bekah alone. Anything she needed, Indy knew where to get it on the floor. She funneled every ounce of energy into the girl in front of her, trying to take any of the burden off the Newcombs that she could. If Bekah needed ice chips, she was at the nurses station. In the supply closet to get fresh linens, the laundry to get clean hospital gowns. She helped her get changed, get showered as best she could - it was less mortifying for Bekah to have Indiana help her than her parents, who were nervous enough they would hurt her as it was.
When Bekah was awake, she was trying. Putting on her brightest smile, doing her best to perk up for her parents and Indiana. But when her parents would leave, which wasn’t often - only to go get fresh clothes, or grab dinner in the cafe - Bekah would deflate. She’d sigh and lean back against her pillows and try to catch her breath. They went home that night to eat a real dinner with promises to bring some back for Bekah, and as soon as they kissed her goodbye, she relaxed back and closed her eyes. Indiana watched her for a moment, and reached out to hold her hand.
“It’s okay Beks. They know you’re tired, you’re allowed to show it.”
“Says you,” she muttered. “Haven’t seen you sleep since I went off meds.”
Indy swallowed. “I sleep when you sleep.”
“Liar.”
“How do you feel?” She changed the subject.
“Like I’m dying.”
Indy choked, and Bekah laughed dryly. “C’mon, that was a good one. And don’t say it isn’t, cause you know I’m right.”
It took all of Indy’s strength not to try to coat it all in some toxic positivity, tell her it wasn’t that bad, that she would feel better, that she would get better - the things she’d been telling her all the years she’d known her.
They weren’t true, and she had to be okay with that.
“I really do think it’ll be this week,” Bekah said, picking at balls of lint on her blanket.
“Why do you think that?” Indy kept her tone as neutral as she could.
“I feel it. Feels… different. I want to go in my sleep, if I can. Think it’ll be easier for everyone that way. Is there a way to make that happen?”
Indy put on her hospital smile. “That’s usually how it goes babe, when you let someone go naturally. Your body gets tired, and you sleep, and then you go.”
She pondered on that for a moment, sat with it, and then she nodded, firm and confident.
“Okay. Good. That’ll be good.”
Indy hoped that one day she could have half the bravery of the girl sitting in front of her, with her thin arms and her purple head scarf, her small smile and stern gaze.
“Can we have milkshakes? And watch some of Grayson’s videos before my parents get back?”
Indy swallowed. “Of course. I’ll go get them, you rest.”
She was glad she could pull strings - the kitchen was usually closed to requests after dinner, but Daniel downstairs was always nice when she called. Sure enough, by the time she’d swiped through all the doors and made it to the kitchen, he had two vanilla milkshakes with extra whipped cream, and sprinkles on Bekah’s.
“Thanks D!”
“You’re welcome other D,” Daniel smiled. The hole in Indy’s chest rubbed raw, and she turned quickly before he could think he did something wrong. She breathed, timed her inhales with her steps as she traversed the halls.
It didn’t help, because when she walked into Bekah’s room she heard him.
Only this time, we’re getting sinus surgery
“Ooo, sprinkles!” Beks smiled and reached out a hand, waiting for Indy to pass her the milkshake.
She did, and she settled next to her on the bed with her own, leaning just far enough back so that Bekah couldn’t see her face.
The videos were always harder. He was still all over her social media, pictures and screenshots and people tagging the two of them on tea pages. He was still in her phone too - the outgoing calls, the photos in her camera roll. But the videos were the worst, because it was him. His mannerisms, his eyebrows that curved when he talked, his tongue that peeked through his smile when he laughed just hard enough.
She watched anyways, let the ache fester and make her feel something. She stared at his sunburnt nose, and listened to him talk about his once deviated septum that they didn’t actually fix - he still snored loud enough to wake her up some nights. She missed it.
Bekah laughed at every funny comment the boys made under their anesthesia in the video, and it was music to Indy’s ears, heartwarming enough for her to be able to stomach watching. By 15 minutes in, Bekah had abandoned her milkshake, the whipped cream dissolving down into the ice cream as her head lulled onto Indy’s shoulder and she fell asleep.
With a shaky hand, Indy checked her pulse.
Slow, but steady.
She turned off the TV.
In California, the fight didn’t start until Tuesday night. The house had been full of tension for almost a week, and the usual LA sunshine didn’t help to lighten the mood.
Grayson had become a recluse. He’d fallen back on the earlier method of locking his phone in a box in an attempt to save his sanity, which was even more fragile from the doom scrolling he’d found himself doing as people speculated every single detail of his life online. The black metal cube sat on a table in the living room, and he only saw it on the few occasions that he ventured out to the kitchen for food.
Even in his limited excursions, he felt the awkward energy radiating from his twin and Eden. They’d had their spats in the past, just like any couple, but there was something different about this one that had Grayson glad he was out of the room when Eden finally cleared her throat and looked at her boyfriend.
“Are we gonna talk about this?”
Ethan picked at a scab on his forearm - he’d been longboarding again as an excuse to get out of the house.
“Talk about what?”
“Talk about why we aren’t talking,” she huffed. “You’re mad at me.”
“Correct,” Ethan said.
“Tell me why then.”
He looked at her incredulously. “You have to ask?”
Eden swallowed down her anger, knowing it wouldn’t help anything. She waited. They sat in stalemate for a moment and she watched it boil up in Ethan before he sighed and turned in his chair towards her.
“Being hateful to me when you’re upset is one thing, because I signed up for that. But to my brother? When he’s doing pretty much as bad as I’ve ever seen him? Not okay. At all.”
“Ethan-”
“And I’m all for the tough love approach or whatever, but that was fucked up. He was just starting to do a little bit better and now look at him.”
“Better? You thought that was better?”
“He was eating at least, and still trying to work a little bit. Now, he’s barely able to do the podcast, much less anything else.”
“You all were already going to cut the main channel, that’s not because of this,” she argued.
“I’m talking everything else Eden. The businesses. Figuring out what the fuck we’re gonna do. He said the other day we could split time between here and Jersey, which really means here and New York if we only do the podcast.”
“And he didn’t think of that as an option before he broke up with Indiana? Makes sense.”
Ethan ignored her and kept going.
“At least he’s thinking about the future, which is better than before. I need him. But I need him, and you yelling at him set him back to square one.”
“If you thought he was even close to out of square one you’re blind.”
“Don’t act like you know my fucking twin better than I do,” Ethan snapped, and if it wasn’t for the protective nature in his tone, Eden would have lost it.
“Ethan.” She waited until he looked up at her, and she saw some of the anger leave his eyes when they met her. “He wasn’t getting better, because he was holding on. Fuck, he still is!”
“Telling him to let go isn’t going to make him let go! Have you met him? He’s the most stubborn fucking person on the face of this fucking earth! He already wants to go back, he’s not gonna let go!”
She could think of one person that could rival him for the title, but she kept it to herself.
“He’ll do it if he thinks he’s doing it for her,” Eden explained. “Don’t you see that? That’s why he did all of this. In his head, somehow, he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Indy. But he fucked her over, royally.”
“He knows that,” Ethan said.
“Okay, great! But he has to let go of her, because she won’t. Indy is an optimist if I’ve ever fucking met one, and she will always hope that he’s gonna come back, so he can’t do anything to feed into it. That’s torture, for both of them. And they both deserve better than that.”
Ethan couldn’t find a grip hold for an argument - one of the many reasons he hated arguing with Eden. So he sat in silence for a moment and accepted his defeat.
“You didn’t have to call him a moron,” he added.
“Anyone who let’s Indiana Cross slip through their fingers is a moron,” she muttered, shoulders relaxing as she realized the fight was over. “But yeah, that was probably a little harsh. I’ll apologize for that one.” She sighed, glad that everything was out on the table for the time being, smiling when Ethan patted his thigh once for her to sit on. She climbed up and nuzzled into his neck - she’d missed being so close to him the last few days. She soaked in the moment, running her fingers over the neck of his henley.
“Is it weird that I miss her? I mean, I know I haven’t known her very long, but she really felt like part of the family.”
“I miss her too,” Ethan sighed, pressing a kiss to Eden’s temple.
She pondered her apology to Grayson as she relaxed into his arms, but it was futile.
Grayson had been listening, standing in the hallway outside his door.
There were no tears; just an overwhelming numbness that had settled over him in the last few days. Eden’s words were the final nail in the coffin - he couldn’t reach out to Indy, though it got more and more tempting each day. He’d promised not to hurt her more than he already had, and he was going to stick to his word. Someone important had taught him that.
He retreated to his room and sat on the edge of the bed before he spoke.
“Hey dad.”
He always waited, just for a moment. Just in case. The silence was always loud, but it was deafening as he curled in on himself, staring down at the grains of wood in the floor.
“Dad I think I really fucked up this time,” he whispered. He willed the tears, but they didn’t come, though his eyes still burned. “I wish you were here. I wish you could have met her.”
As he sat, he remembered what his dad had said in those last few days, in the few hours that he was awake, when he fought off the pain and the fatigue to be there for his kids and his wife. I’ll always be there, you can always talk to me. Just say whatever you would if I was right there beside you, cause I will be.
So he did. He spoke as if he could feel the weight of his dad on the bed beside him, feel his arm around his shoulder.
Grayson sat on the edge of his bed and told Sean everything about the girl that he still loved. Her intelligence, her laugh, her smile, the way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to love someone else. He lost track of how long he talked, run on sentences and gestures that only made it more obvious that his dad wasn’t there to tell him to slow down and take a breath before he talked himself into a pump from his inhaler. When he ran out of words, he did the only thing he knew to do when all else went wrong; turned his shower on as hot as he could stand it, sat down on the bench so the water ran over him, and thought of Indy.
The storm rolled into the city on Wednesday - unprecedented and angry, snarling the clouds in swirls of dark, heavy gray and dumping down over the skyscrapers of New York.
Indiana was watching the monitors. Her eyes jumped with each pulse of Bekah’s heart, which was beating faster than her usual. Her blood pressure was low, her breathing more irregular. Indy could see the textbook page in her head - actively dying. She’d learned the vital signs to look for, and how to fix them, what medicines to push.
But she wasn’t supposed to be making Bekah better, and that was the hardest part.
Thunder shook the room, and Bekah shivered. Mrs. Newcomb wrung her hands, and her husband ran a hand along her shoulders.
“She hasn’t woken up all day,” she murmured.
“She’s resting baby, it’s okay.”
Bekah’s monitors began to beep a bit faster. Her heart rate slowly rose - 82, then 85, then 90. Indy watched, her nerves prickling, eyes darting to the clipboard at the end of her bed, with DNR in bright red block letters - do not resuscitate. Bekah whimpered, her head turning into her pillow as her breathing got quicker, her heart working in overtime to try to keep her body afloat.
Mrs. Newcomb rushed to her daughter’s side, running a hand over her cheek as she began to cry.
“Bekah, sweetheart breathe, just breathe baby, don’t go yet, don’t go,” she pleaded, and Indy bit back her cries. Two nurses showed up in the doorway, waiting. There was nothing they could do but watch, and answer questions if they were asked.
Bekah’s father turned to the corner.
“Indiana, Indiana what’s happening to my baby?” He cried. It was enough to break Indy out of her trance, and she moved over to the bedside, resting a hand on Bekah’s leg.
“Her body is trying to decide what to do. It’s tired, and with her blood pressure going down, her heart is work harder to move her blood around. That’s why it’s faster,” she explained. “She’s not in pain right now, her medicine should still be working. It probably just feels a bit scary.”
Mr. Newcomb took her hand, and squeezed. Indy looked back to the monitors, unable to bear looking down at Bekah. She watched the blips on the monitor start to regulate again, sinus rhythm reappearing, allowing both of them to breathe easier. Bekah groaned a bit and settled into her covers, and a broken sob made its way out of Mrs. Newcomb’s throat.
“I need a minute,” she said, and then she was headed for the door with a hand over her mouth. It was the second time she was sick that day. Mr. Newcomb took her to the cafeteria to get a Sprite, and Indy took her usual spot, perched on the edge of Bekah’s bed. She took her hand, tensing a bit with how cold it was. She rubbed it, bringing it up to her lips to blow warmth into her palm as best she could.
Bekah stirred, and her eyes opened for the first time in many hours.
“Hey,” Indy said quietly, not wanting to startle her.
“What was all that noise?” Bekah’s voice was croaky, but she shook her head when Indy offered her a drink of water.
“Your monitors. They’re loud aren’t they?”
“Yeah. Annoying as hell,” she mumbled, then opened her eyes a bit wider, scanning the room for her mother.
“Language,” Indy teased.
“Why were they going off?”
It took all of Indy’s strength not to lie.
“Your heart rate picked up because your blood pressure went down. That’s something that happens…”
“Oh. It means it’s getting close isn’t it.”
Indy nodded and squeezed her hand. Bekah took a moment to process, and then she turned her head back to her friend.
“Is Grayson here yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Well, he better come soon if he wants to see me. Tell him to hurry, since I’m dying and shit.”
“Language,” Indy whispered it so her voice didn’t crack. Bekah played with the edge of her blanket.
“Am I supposed to be scared?”
“There’s no right or wrong way to be right now Beks. You just do what you need and feel how you feel, and we’ll be here the whole time, okay? We’re right here.”
“You need to not be here,” Bekah said, and Indy’s breath caught in her throat.
“Oh.”
“You need sleep, and a shower. I won’t die while you’re gone if I can help it. Promise.” She wrapped her pinky around Indy’s as best she could.
Before she could refuse, the Newcombs appeared back through the door, delighted to see their daughter awake. She sat up a bit straighter in bed and put on her best smile, Indy’s heart tightening at the sight.
“Go,” Bekah whispered through her smile. She squeezed her hand one more time, and then let go, walking up to Mrs. Newcomb.
“I’m gonna go get freshened up and grab some clean clothes, but will you text me if anything changes? I live right down the street, so I can be back here really quick,” she explained, trying to ignore the growing look of pity in her eyes.
“Of course dear. But you go home for the night, we’ll be alright. I’ll call you if anything changes, you need your rest. You’ve been here so long, have a night of normalcy at home and come back fresh tomorrow, okay?”
Indy nodded - it was all she could do. She blew Bekah a kiss and walked out the door, pausing when she noticed something had changed.
A small blue heart had been placed by her room number - a signal that made Indy’s heart sink. Bekah was officially dying, and it was there for every nurse and visitor on the unit to see, to signify they needed to respect privacy and be quiet when they were close by.
It made no sense, for that to be her breaking point. She’d known. She’d seen it, in her vitals and her demeanor and the fact that just their conversation was enough to have her ready to sleep for another 8 hours.
But that little blue heart was her undoing, and she clutched her chest for the entire walk out of the hospital, down the stairs and out into the pouring rain. The thought of her empty apartment, with no Grayson and no Charlie and no Devin was too much - instead, she found herself running down the sidewalk past the lobby to the parking garage, shoes sloshing with water by the time she made it under the concrete.
The valet didn’t ask questions when she passed over her key, shivering as she waited for him to bring her car out. As soon as she climbed in she hit the gas, ready to drive somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t her home. The road was blurry despite the rapid back and forth of her windshield wipers, but she trudged on, just coherent enough to keep her tires between the white lines as she fled the city. The river was swollen when she drove over the bridge into Jersey, and she let herself zone out, let her mind take her wherever it wanted to go.
She knew where she would end up.
The crunch of gravel was familiar under her tires when she turned off the winding road. It was a comforting sound, though it was muffled by the rain, and it wasn’t until she was close enough to the white house to see that the kitchen light was on that she realized what she was doing.
She put the car in park, ready to shift it to reverse until a small figure appeared on the front porch, waving her inside.
Her earlier words rang in her ears. My door is always open.
She hoped it was true as she flung her car door open and bolted for the protection of the porch.
Lisa was waiting for her, standing in her pajamas with worry written all over her face.
“Indiana? Sweetheart, are you okay?”
All Indy could do was sob. She hated it, and the voice in her head berated her over and over, reminded her she had no place there anymore, that she was putting Lisa in a terrible position. But the feeling of a mother’s arms around her wasn’t something she could fight against, and she crumpled into her and let herself be held.
“Shhh. Shhh, you’re okay,” she hummed, running a hand over Indy’s blonde hair that was soaking wet. “Let’s get you inside and get warmed up.”
Indy let herself be led in, shoulders relaxing a bit at the familiarity of where she was until she spotted Grayson’s work boots in the corner and recoiled back. Lisa sat her down in a chair in the kitchen and squatted down until they were eye level.
“Are you hurt?”
Indy shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Is everything okay?” Her tone gave away that she already knew the answer, but Indy shook her head again anyways. Lisa patted her leg and sighed quietly, reaching up to brush some of her hair back.
“Does Grayson know you’re here?”
The squeak that escaped Indy’s lips was the only warning before she let out a sob so loud that Gizmo yelled in shock.
“I’m s-s-s-orry,” she choked, crumpling with her face in her hands.
“No, no no shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s alright, you’re okay.” Lisa pulled her to her as best she could, rocking just barely as she held her.
“No, I shouldn’t have come, I don’t want to make things difficult for you with - him.” Indy couldn’t get herself to say his name and Lisa just shook her head.
“Babe I told you that I would be here for you no matter what, and I meant it, okay? I won’t tell him you’re here unless I need to. You can stay as long as you need, you hear me?” She used her thumbs to wipe at Indy’s tears, frowning at the dark circles she found.
“Sweetheart, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”
Indy’s silence was enough.
“Well, it’s late, and I think sleep is the first thing you need. We can talk tomorrow, but right now, you go up and climb into bed okay? They’re all made up, you can sleep wherever you’d like. Do you need anything, or do you remember where everything is.”
“I remember,” Indy whispered, taking in a shaky breath. “Thank you Li.”
“Of course. You’re a part of this family, always. Now, get some rest. You know where I am if you need me.”
She kissed her forehead and disappeared up the stairs. Indy wasn’t sure how long it took to get herself together and muster the energy to climb those same stairs, take a left into the room she’d been in so many times before.
It still smelled a bit like him, and she couldn’t help but to take a few deep breaths, closing her eyes and pretending he was right there, sprawled out in bed with the blanket held up for her like the first time she’d slept over. It was the same blanket when she opened her eyes again, and the thought of climbing into it without him waiting for her made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t look at the bed any longer, so she turned to the closet, sighing when she saw all the warm clothes that were far too much fabric for LA, even in the winter. It was almost unconscious, the way she found herself in front of his shirts, running her fingers over the various fabric until she landed on a familiar flannel. Checkered, with blue, white and black squares. Thick and warm, he’d worn it once when they went out to check on the progress of the tiny homes, and she’d woven her arms underneath it when she reached around him to hold on as he drove them through the trees.
Before she could stop herself, she snatched it off the hanger and pushed her arms through the sleeves, eyes prickling at the realization that she felt close to him for the first time in weeks, yet he was still so far away. She retreated back to the bedroom, grabbing one of the pillows and carrying it downstairs, all the way to the couch in the living room. The blankets were still in the basket in the corner, and she grabbed her favorite one before she curled up under it on the cold leather, pulling the flannel fabric up around her chin and closing her eyes.
In the kitchen, Gizmo turned on her perch and cocked her head.
“Dee,” she said, but Indiana was already asleep.
It was the best sleep she had in weeks - the peace of knowing that she wasn’t truly alone enough for her body to force her to catch up. Lisa was surprised to see her still curled up on the couch at 9:30 the next morning when she got ready for work as the rain continued outside. She watched her sleep for a few moments, heart tight at the way her eyebrows were still furrowed and her face buried in the collar of a shirt she was sure was her son’s.
She didn’t know the details, but she knew Grayson well enough to put together the pieces. But she also knew he wouldn’t let Indiana suffer this much if he truly knew how she was doing. It had to be bad if Indiana even considered coming out to the house, and it gave Lisa a level of mom anxiety she hadn’t had since the boys had picked up longboarding again. She wondered how he’d let it go on so long in the first place, and after a moment of debating, she scribbled down a note for Indy, went out to her car as quietly as she could, and called her son.
His phone sent her straight to voicemail. She tried again. Voicemail. With the third dial tone she couldn’t help the pit that grew in her stomach, an automatic mom reflex when your child is unreachable.
Instead, she called Ethan. It rang four times and then she heard a muffled groan and rustling before his voice came through the line.
“Ma, it’s 6:30 in the morning,” he grumbled, voice raspy and dry. “You okay?”
“Why isn’t your brother answering his phone? Are you two okay?”
Ethan sighed, annoyed. “He’s fine Mom, he’s just doing a detox from his phone. People were being shitty. He’s asleep down the hall, not dead in a ditch somewhere,” Ethan chuckled. Lisa wasn’t amused.
“Well, wake him up and un-detox him. He needs to call Indiana. Now.”
Ethan sat up in bed.
“Indy? Why, what’s wrong?”
“That’s for him to figure out. All I know is, she’s not doing well and he needs to call her. Now.”
“What happened?”
“Just make sure he calls her, alright? I’ve gotta get to work, I love you.”
“Alright, love you too.”
As soon as he hung up, he was on his feet, rushing down the hallway and throwing Grayson’s door open. He ran to the edge of his bed, shaking his shoulder until he groaned and opened his eyes.
“The fuck do you want,” he grumbled.
“You need to call Indiana, I just got off the phone with Ma. Something’s wrong.”
Grayson felt sick.
“What happened? Is she safe, is she okay?”
“I don’t know, you just need to call her.”
“You don’t know? You don’t know? The fuck do you mean you don’t know Ethan?” Grayson was yelling, but he was on his feet as he spoke, headed down the hallway in search of the lock box. He rummaged through the kitchen drawer until he found the key, hands so shaky it took three tries to unlock the metal contraption.
His phone was dead when he pulled it out, and it took all his willpower to keep from chucking it at the glass doors.
“Yours, give me yours.”
Ethan was a step ahead of him, already having Indiana’s contact pulled up. Grayson snatched it and hit the call button, heart pounding in his ears as he waited for her to answer.
Indy woke up to the buzzing of her phone against her arm where she’d tucked it the night before. Her eyes flew open - it must be Mrs. Newcomb, calling to tell her that Bekah had gotten worse. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes until she could read the name on her screen.
Ethan.
Her heart sank. She’d thought to call him more times than she wanted to admit, but she figured calling your ex's twin when said ex didn’t want to talk to you was crossing some moral line. Though as she sat on his mother’s couch, she figured it was time to get over the morals and do what she needed to do.
She swiped to answer.
“Dee? Are you okay? Are you safe?”
She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth opened and closed again as she tried to find something to say to the only person she’d wanted to talk to in almost three weeks. She hadn’t had time to prep herself, to give her heart a warning.
“Baby talk to me, tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded, and the pain in his voice was enough to snap her out of it.
“Grayson?” was all she could say.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong, are you hurt?”
“No, no I’m okay, I’m fine.”
Grayson took a breath for the first time since she picked up the phone. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say, the panic dissipating and leaving his brain blank. Luckily, she spoke.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said.
“I know. Indiana I’m sor-”
“It’s Beks.”
His heart skipped a beat, and the silence rang in his ears as he clutched onto the back of the couch. Ethan, who had been eavesdropping from the kitchen, moved closer. Grayson waited for her to speak, to say it so he didn’t have to ask.
“Is she-”
“No.” Indy’s voice broke. “But…”
“Oh god. Fuck. Fuck Indy.” His knees wobbled beneath him.
“She isn’t in any pain, we’ve been keeping her comfortable. But it’s probably gonna be in the next few days,” she whispered between sniffles, her voice squeaky and small as she fought to get the words out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to tell you over the phone but... “ she trailed off. “She asked when you were coming to see her, and I didn’t know what to say.”
The tears were burning as they slid down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the imagery of Bekah in her hospital bed, calling out for him.
“Indy-”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say so I just said you’d be there soon. If you can’t come she probably won’t remember, but I just wanted you to know, in case you wanted to be here. To see her, before…”
“I’m coming. I’ll be right there okay? I’m going to the airport now, I’ll be right there.”
Indy was silent for a moment, her eyes flickering to the rain outside.
“Fly safe. It’s storming here.”
“I will. I’ll see you soon okay? Just hold on, I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
That sat in silence for a moment until Indiana finally hung up.
“I’m going with you,” Ethan said. He didn’t need context - all he knew is his brother needed him. Grayson nodded once, passed him his phone and headed straight for his room. He packed blindly, throwing things into his suitcase without bothering to fold them, just desperate to get on the road to the airport and get back to New York. Ethan was two steps behind him when he finally made it to the door, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to explain the situation as best he could to a very worried Eden. Grayson loaded the bags as Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving the charger open for Grayson’s still dead phone. Ethan practically peeled out of the driveway towards LAX, the cab filled with silence apart from the hum of the engine and the quiet sniffles from Gray when his phone turned back on and he saw all the missed texts and calls from Indiana who had been trying so desperately to reach him. The guilt made him queasy, and Ethan’s driving didn’t help as he hopped lanes and sped on, praying no cops were on the road.
Grayson’s knee bounced impatiently as they waited in the line for parking, paying an astronomical amount seeing that they didn’t know when they would be back. Then they were running, dragging their bags behind them on the asphalt and beelining for the front desk. The attendants eyes went wide when they requested the next flight to New York at the exact same time. It wasn’t taking off for three more hours, much to their dismay, but they accepted it and headed towards security with their heads low and phones in hand.
The next flight doesn’t leave until around 10 but we’ll be on it. I’m sorry.
He watched the bubbles appear and disappear three times over, and then her response came.
nothing to be sorry for. I’m back at the hospital with her, she’s resting. I’ll keep you updated. the storm is still really bad here, please be careful
He wished he could reach out and hold her hand, ease her anxiety about his flight. He couldn’t imagine the emotion of that on top of everything else, so he said all he could think to.
I’ll be safe, and I’ll be there soon.
He typed I love you and deleted it before he sent it.
And then, it was a waiting game. The boys kept their hoods up and their heads down in hopes they wouldn’t be recognized. It seemed the universe was in their favor for the time being, no one bothering them while they waited, but it took a turn when their flight was delayed for weather not once, but twice, pushing their departure time to 2pm instead. He apologized again, agonizing over the thought of Indy sitting in the hospital by herself, but her response was the same.
she’s still resting, it’s okay. just be safe.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Ethan tried to reassure him, but he knew it was futile.
“I should have been there. I should have never left her in the first place Ethan, I’m an idiot.”
“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. You told me she was getting better.”
He thought his brother was still talking about Bekah, and the queasiness returned.
“She was.”
They sat in silence as the hours crawled by. Ethan bought them lunch from a vegan salad shop down the terminal, even got his brother one of the protein coffee drinks he liked. Grayson picked at the lettuce and left it abandoned for his twin to finish. His only solace was his headphones that he kept pressed far into his ears with a constant stream of Cudi to keep him sane. After what felt like an eternity, they called for boarding. He texted her again to let her know he was on his way, and in a cruel play of the universe or whatever it was, Teleport 2 Me Jamie began to play.
His eyes were blurry as he followed Ethan to their seats, climbing in by the window and readjusting his hood so it folded around his face as much as it could, hiding. Ethan leaned forward and acted like he was reading the SkyMagazine he found in the back of his seat, shielding his brother from view as best he could.
They’d been on a flight like this before. January of 2019 - it had been raining that day too, but they had both been crying that day. So he stayed strong for his brother as best he could, got him a gingerale when the flight attendant passed by, and left Grayson alone.
Indy wished someone would talk to her. She wished Bekah would wake up again - it had been hours of silence apart from the beeps of her monitor and the footsteps of the nurses outside the door. It was never truly silent in a hospital after all. But she was glad that she slept despite the loneliness. She hoped it would mean that she had energy for when Grayson made it to the hospital.
Grayson.
Her brain didn’t have the space to process that he would be there in the next six hours. His text that said he had boarded barely even registered in her mind, but her body was aware. Her anxiety picked up ten fold, her leg bouncing until it cramped, her lungs tight and fingernails bit down to the nail beds. The rain was relentless, as if the city were drowning already and it decided to add more for the fun of it, to watch the humans run around like ants in their multicolored raincoats. The universe was sick that way.
Mr. Newcomb returned from the nurses station where he’d insisted on dropping off some cookies he’d bought at the store. He was quiet as he came into the room, eyes on his daughter until he finally peeled them away to look at Indy.
“Do you think she’ll be asleep a little while longer? We were hoping to take some of her clothes home and wash them, so she has her choice from all her favorites for the next few days.”
“I think so. My… friend is coming later. Her other buddy, from the program. We’ll keep her company if you guys need to eat and get some sleep for a few hours. I can text you if anything changes.”
“I’ll see if I can convince Martina to get some shut eye I will,” he laughed, giving Indy a grateful smile and taking one more glance at his girl before he gathered her laundry and left. It only hit Indiana when he stepped out that she had never known Martina’s name until then. Bekah’s father was named Tarin, she knew that much. But she’d never even gotten to a first name basis with Martina. In all the years they’d known each other, and all the hours in hospital rooms and tears shared, she’d never been anything but Bekah’s mom to Indy. It wasn’t uncommon for Indiana to keep mom’s at an arm’s length from her. A protective mechanism she’d never consciously implemented, but it prevailed nonetheless.
She wondered if Bekah would have wanted to be a mom someday. When she was 13 she’d insisted that men were trash and that she’d never get married even if she made it through all her cancer, but as she’d gotten a bit older she loved to talk about all her celebrity crushes. Indy looked in her side drawer and smiled when she found the little picture of Harry Styles she’d given her during her last round of treatment - she’d taken it with her to every room since.
Indy paced the room, her anxiety to high to allow her to sit. She thought of Grayson on a plane somewhere, the metal tube rocking in the sky, cutting through the clouds. When she would get to the window she’d look up, hoping to see the lights from the wing of a plane somewhere, hoping it was his and that it was coming down safely.
She paced for two more hours before her phone buzzed.
Landed. I should be there in about 40. She still asleep?
Indy took in her first deep breath in hours.
yeah, she’s still out. I’ll meet you in the ocean hallway so you don’t have to buzz in, just text me when you’re close.
Will do.
Ma is picking us up so as soon as we get out we’ll head straight there
Ethan is with me but he’s just gonna go home with her for now
sounds good
She didn’t have much to say, her stomach fluttering against her will. Her emotions were too unbalanced for her to even know what was happening. Excitement, and fear and grief and anxiety and anger and confusion, all at once somehow. She wrapped her arms around herself to try to hold it together and went back to pacing.
Grayson was soaked by the time he made it into Lisa’s car, scurrying into the backseat and barking out directions harsher than he meant to.
“I already have it in the GPS. Calm down,” Lisa said, giving Ethan a side eye in the passenger seat.
“Sorry,” Grayson muttered, ringing his hands.
“S’alright babe,” Lisa sighed, reaching an arm back to pat his leg where she could reach. They drove in silence, listening to the rain smack against the roof and the windshield until Ethan spoke up.
“Did Indy call you? Is that how you knew something was wrong?” He asked Lisa. He hadn’t said anything, but he was worried too.
Lisa debated it for a moment, and then she sighed.
“She was upset, and she needed to get in touch with Grayson,” was all she said. “The rest of it, she can tell you.”
Gray didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. Every ounce he had was involved in the visuals flipping through his mind like a viewfinder; Indy in the ocean hallway, Bekah and her halloween blanket, the tiny homes, Indy’s tears in the airport. He hadn’t imagined that the next time he saw her would be like this. He wanted it to be different. Better. He wanted everything to be better.
When they finally made it to the hospital, Lisa pulled to the curb and turned to her youngest son with a serious look.
“You take care of her, but you take care of you too, okay? I love you.”
Grayson’s nose burned and he nodded once before he ducked out into the rain.
Indy stopped walking, and breathing, when her phone buzzed again.
Here. Omw up
She liked the message, fixed Bekah’s blankets and headed out into the hallway and through the doors. The smiles of the marine life were haunting as she waited for any sign that he was close.
Her head whipped up when she heard the familiar clammer of the far doors being pushed open.
He was wearing his yellow Cudi hoodie, but it was the wrong color. The fabric was darker than she remembered, darker than the picture she had of him in it, the one she’d taken in Jet’s once. It didn’t process that it was because it was wet until he was halfway down the hall. His hair was a bit longer than it had been, without Lisa there to trim it up. And his beard was full and scruffy and dark, hiding away his jaw line. She could still tell that his teeth were clenched though, his nerves palpable as he got closer and closer to her.
His shoe squeaked when he stopped in front of her. Neither of them breathed for a moment. They just stared at each other. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets to keep himself from hugging her, from crossing a boundary that he wished he’d never set.
“Hi,” he said.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Hey. How was your flight?”
“Long, but not too bumpy.”
Another painful beat of silence.
“How is she?”
“She’s still asleep, but we can wake her up. Meds are coming soon, just stuff to keep her comfortable. Her vitals are still okay, she’s just a bit groggy. But she’s excited to see you.” Indy offered him a small smile, and it had his knees ready to give out beneath him.
“And you? Are you okay?” He asked.
Indy’s smile faded, and she looked at the jellyfish.
“That doesn’t matter right now. C’mon, let’s go see her.”
Indy used her badge to swipe into the door, but Grayson’s throat was too tight to ask her about it. Instead he just followed her down the familiar hallway, trying to avoid the looks of pity from the nurses who recognized him.
Indy caught his wrist before he walked into the room.
“I didn’t… she doesn’t know about… us. I didn’t want to upset her, and it never really came up. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She sounded ashamed, but all Grayson could focus on was the feeling of her hand on his skin again, even if it was just a few fingers.
“Okay. That’s okay.”
“Okay.”
Indy walked into the room, the most hesitant that Grayson had ever seen her.
Beks looked cold. Even cuddled under her blankets she looked like she was freezing, and Grayson had trouble breathing. Indy went to the side of her bed, ran her thumb across her cheek and over to her shoulder where she squeezed gently.
“Beks, hey. Bekah,” she used her most gentle voice until the youngster stirred. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Grayson pulled it together in the last moment before Bekah opened her eyes.
“Earrings,” she sighed, a small smile on her lips. It was the most expression Indy had seen all day. “You made it.”
“Of course I did sweet girl,” he chuckled to hide his pain, moving beside Indy and crouching down so Bekah could see him easier. “Sorry it took me so long.”
“S’okay. We all know you’re slow,” she teased. “Hey, no tears. No crying in Bekah’s room.”
He hadn’t even realized he was until she said it, and he used his hoodie to wipe his eyes.
“Sorry Beks. Just missed you is all.”
“Yeah, well we missed you too. Did you convince my parents to go home?”
“Yeah,” Indy answered. “They’re getting some rest and bringing you some clean clothes.”
“Mmm, good. I think that black hoodie is a good one to die in,” she said, body shaking just barely with a laugh that turned into a cough.
“Pardon the death jokes, you’ll get used to them,” Bekah smiled at Grayson and the shock on his face once her throat cleared enough.
He thought of Sean, how he had pretended everything was fine until the very end, and he smiled.
“Don’t you think a black death hoodie is a little on the nose?” He said, and Bekah laughed. It sounded the most like her real one since she’d been off her treatment, and it warmed Indy’s soul.
“Fair point. Maybe I should go with blue. You think someone will let me into heaven if I’m in blue or will I just blend in with the sky?”
“I don’t think anyone has to let you in,” Indy said with a laugh, crouching down next to Grayson. Their knees bumped together. “Pretty sure you just end up there.”
“I hope so. There’s no one there to find me anyways.” The playful edge was gone from her voice, and Grayson frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m the first one. I mean, I guess my grandma is up there but I never knew her. Everybody always talks about how their family will be there, when they go.” She paused, taking a few deep breaths to get her energy back. She hadn’t talked so much in days, and her heart rate was rising from the exertion of it. The pair waited patiently, giving her the time she needed to finish her thought.
“I don’t have anyone to die for, anybody waiting on me. I gotta find my way in there alone.”
The innocence of it was enough to rip Indy’s heart in half, and she couldn’t find the comforting words that she wanted to give. But Grayson cleared his throat.
“You won’t be alone. I know of at least two people who will be right there waiting for you.”
She perked up a bit, eyes opening wider from where they’d started to close. “Really?”
“Yeah. My dad. He looks kinda like me, but shorter, with a better beard. His name is Sean.”
Bekah smiled. “Whose the other one?”
“A tall blonde lady named Nicole. Indy’s mom. Looks just like her, you won’t be able to miss her. They’ll help you, and keep you safe.” The sincerity in his voice was enough for Indy to realize he desperately wanted it to be true. She turned her head to hide her tears, clinging onto the bed rail to keep herself steady.
“That sounds nice,” Bekah breathed, her eyes slowly closing. “You all want me to tell them anything, when I get there?”
It was Grayson’s turn to lose his voice.
“No babe. We can tell them when we get up there.” Indy answered after a moment too long.
“That better not be for a long time. I gotta have some entertainment. Watch you all grow up and get married and have kids. You better name one after me too,” she sighed, her voice getting quieter as her heart sped up.
“You bet,” Grayson said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead as her breathing slowed and evened out again. It was slower than it should be, and Grayson realized his own breathing was fast… too fast. He brought a hand to his chest, then his other to cover his mouth and keep himself quiet.
“Shh, shhh hey, you’re okay, here, c’mon, you’re okay.” Indy’s voice was in his ear, her arms under his to try and guide him up to his feet, then out to the hallway. She held his arm and pulled him over into a supply closet that she swiped into, letting the door shut behind them.
“Breathe Grayson. It’s okay, just breathe.”
He fell to pieces in her arms, his back curled painfully so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck and sob. They were ugly sounds, wet and snotty and raw and she didn’t care. She just held him together as best she could with her small hands, let him relax into her and get it out of his system. His shoulders stilled eventually, but his arms stayed locked around her like a vice.
Neither of them moved until the motion sensor light clicked off, covering them in darkness.
They didn’t speak. They untangled themselves and let the light turn back on before they headed back into the hallway as if nothing had happened, back into Bekahs room. Her heart rate was perpetually high now, fighting to keep the blood pumping.
Another sign that the end was coming soon.
Indiana and Grayson sat down on the couch beside each other, just close enough for their shoulders to graze occasionally when they shifted. Indy watched the monitors and Grayson watched her, reading her expressions as best he could over what felt like an eternity. He looked at all the things he’d missed - the freckle by her ear, and the baby hairs that sat by her temple and never seemed to grow.
It could have been minutes, or hours. No one was sure. But eventually Indy’s posture slumped slightly, and with a final sigh she leaned over to the left, her head resting on Grayson’s shoulder.
He stopped breathing, only allowing himself shallow inhales that left his torso perfectly still so she could rest. He didn’t know how to feel, and against his will his eyes prickled at the realization that despite the fucked up situation they were in, she was there, leaned against him. Beside him. Something he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get ever again. The way she shifted and mumbled in her sleep let him know she wasn’t comfortable, but he let himself be selfish for a few minutes and soothed her back down so she stayed, relished in the weight of her on him and resisting the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
He moved as carefully as he ever had to press a tiny kiss to her hair.
She sighed and settled down further in her seat, moving her head onto the back of the couch and freeing him.
The angle of her neck looked painful, and he scanned the room, noticing that they’d brought in two recliners, presumably for her parents. He stood up carefully and dragged the chairs away from the wall, lining them up like he had in his dad’s room. He hunted down a few extra pillows from the nurses, blankets too, and brought them in, making little makeshift beds for the two of them.
He felt guilt waking Indy up, but he didn’t want to pick her up without permission. Instead, he shook her shoulder gently until she stirred, panicking for a moment until she realized everything was okay. Her heart fluttered at the realization that Grayson was still there.
“Sleep over here, it’ll save your neck.” He nodded towards the chair and she stood up slowly, groggily moving over into one of them. She sighed as she settled in, exhaustion taking over. Grayson liked to think that she felt peaceful enough, safe enough to sleep because he was there, but he didn’t let himself believe it. So he simply moved her blanket up over her torso before he climbed into his own chair that faced the other way so they could see each other.
He watched her sleep for a moment, and then her hand moved just far enough down the arm rest. She wiggled her fingers until he got the message, slipping his hand into hers before he too fell asleep.
When they awoke the next morning, their hands were still intertwined, and Bekah’s parents were coming in the doorway. Indy woke up first, sitting up straight and squeezing Grayson’s hand.
“Grayson. Gray, hey, wake up.”
He grumbled until he was able to open his eyes, wiping his mouth with his hoodie sleeve as he came to and realized where he was. He was quick to stand, to introduce himself to Bekah’s parents with firm handshakes. His hair was a mess, and Indy bit her fingernails to keep from reaching out to smooth it out.
The day went by, measured by the heart rate monitor beeps that got quicker and quicker, and the rattling of Bekah’s breath as the fluid settled in her lungs. Martina and Indy changed her into her blue hoodie, and fixed her favorite scarf - one with tiny blue lightning bolts - over her head.
Indy and Gray didn’t have the energy or stamina to try to figure out where they stood, so they chose together, for the time being. She kept her arm wrapped around his, the way she used to when he walked her down the street. He traced over her fingers where she held onto him, chewing her lip while she watched her vitals grow worse and worse, all the red flags she would be trying to fix if that was the goal. Around 3pm, the nurse came into the room. The way Indy tensed was enough for Grayson to know something was happening.
“We’re gonna give her a bit more sedation to keep her comfortable. With the current levels of her vitals, it might slow her down enough to let her pass peacefully. There are no guarantees, but it is possible.”
Martina began to cry into her husband’s shoulder.
“So we should say our goodbyes then?” Tarin asked through a tight throat. The nurse nodded.
“We’ll administer it and then give you guys some privacy.”
“She won’t be in any pain, right?”
“No sir. It’ll just be like falling asleep.”
Indy watched as she set up her IV and stepped out of the room.
Grayson and Indy followed her out quietly, giving Bekah and her parents the moment that they needed. Indy’s breath was shaky, and she held tighter to Grayson as they waited in the hallway. He looked up towards the light in an attempt to stop the tears, and a few moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
It was Martina, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy.
“You all are family. She would want you here with her.”
Grayson’s feet wouldn’t move until Indy guided him back into the room.
Bekah’s parents stayed on either side of her bed and held her hands while Indy and Grayson stood at the foot of her bed and watched her take her last breath.
Indy didn’t cry. She stood watch, only moving when the nurses came in to confirm time of death. She went and turned the monitors off, cutting the monotonous tone out abruptly as they removed Bekah’s IV. Grayson’s quiet sniffled and muffled sobs were almost enough to tip her over the edge, but she held it together. She hugged Martina, then Tarin, and then retreated into Grayson’s side yet again.
There wasn’t a signal, or anyone that told them it was time to go. But they found themselves outside in the hallway eventually, and they walked arm and arm. They signed out at the desk for the last time and walked out the doors of the pediatric oncology ward, through the ocean hallway and down the stairs.
The rain had stopped.
They walked the streets in silence, holding onto each other tightly as people passed them on the sidewalk, completely unaware of what had just happened to them. The world continued to turn, the city continued to bustle, and they continued to walk, one foot in front of the other until they made it to the elevator of her building.
Indy watched the numbers go by as it climbed. She didn’t say a word when they got to her floor, or through her door or over to her couch. Grayson sat down beside her and took his shoes off. She stared over his shoulder out the windows, an overwhelming numbness settling over her entirety.
“Indy, why don’t you take your shoes off,” Grayson whispered.
She didn’t look at him.
“Indy?”
He waited. The blues in her eyes were dark, and his heart sank. He knelt down and untied her shoes, sliding them off her feet gently. He took her socks off too - she hated sleeping in socks.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe, it’s okay,” he said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She swallowed hard, and that was enough for Grayson to justify picking her up and carrying her into her room. He sat her down and pulled her covers back before he got her into bed.
Once she was settled he stood up, waiting for just a moment before he spoke.
“I’ll be on the couch if you need me okay? I’ll be right here.”
Indy blinked hard, and then she shook her head.
Grayson went to his knees beside her in an instant, ready to do whatever she needed.
“Stay.”
That was all he needed. He circled around the bed and climbed in behind her, coiling his arm around her torso and crushing her back against him, pressing her into him everywhere he could. He willed himself to shield her, from the pain and the reality of what had just happened. He pressed a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes and he held his girl until morning.
#some of yall bout to be real mad at me#oop#PLS LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK :D#mixtape#grayson dolan#grayson dolan fanfiction#dolan twins#dolan twins fanfiction
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@criswisstuff “I may be projecting a little bit the guy being scared of women old enough to be his mother is really possible. Also the "I haven't sleep or eaten in four days because I don't deserve it " during a depressive episode” asks from this post
Hope you like this :)
(TW/mental illness/ed/etc.)
Aaron always struggled with food. I mean it wasn’t his fault. He would go days without eating, especially during the summer when there wasn't any school lunch to be provided. His Mom would either forget to go grocery shopping that week or she was to high to care. Eventually she would remember, or just give him the money to get it himself. He picked up learning how to cook his own food. On the good days she would teach him some recipes she knew.
It wasn’t that he disliked food, he just didn’t care much for it. It wasn’t a “priority”. He deffiently didn't care while he was still on drugs. They hit harder on a empty stomach anyways. Now that he was sober he only eats because he needs to. Maybe some extra protein because he lifted or had a hard practice that day. Some sweets because of Andrew’s sugar addiction. Whatever Nicky decided to order, or what smoothie Kevin decided to put in front of him. He tended to drink a lot of caffeine, in the morning, while studying. His appetite was often curved.
Another issue was that he tended to eat everything and anything put in front of him. He remembers the beatings he’d gotten from disliking his food, or the days he should have finished because he didn't know when the next meal would come. He ate till he was completely full, a lot of the times to fast.
With all this his weight has never been a real problem, he eats enough. He never felt it really effected his daily activities. He barely noticed it himself.
That was until he had overflowing school work, plus Kevin being up everyones ass about the up coming game that Friday. He had a project that was due, and three different test. Aaron liked to take lots of notes and then study for hours to prepare himself for a test. Starting Monday the only thing he consumed was caffeine. He didn't have time to think about what he was eating. Matt knew not to bother him and he wasn’t around the monsters much to be handed something to eat. He was harsh to Nicky on Tuesday which caused the older cousin to keep his distance. He didn't say much during his session with Bee and Andrew. He just told them about the shit ton of work he needed to do. Andrew didn't comment much, he really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, to wrapped up in biology vocabulary.
Before the game Kevin made them drink some shakes. It was disgusting and he was the only one besides Kevin that actually finished it. He drank some coffee too. Only till the second half of the game did Aaron start to feel the headache he was commonly getting during practice. He got pushed hard into the glass by one of the other team strikers and then got subbed off.
When he was walking off he felt like his head was about to fall off. Abby came to him quickly which made him flinch. He had to make a double take, luckily enough she was to worried to notices. Aaron told her he felt dizzy so she handed him some gatorade and a cold clothe to rest around his neck. He started to feel normal again once the game came to an end with a last shot from Josten.
After the game the group got ready to go to Columbia. While changing he noticed he looked like shit. Well he always looks sleep deprived but now it just looked more shitty. He decided to steal some of Nicky’s eye liner. He never wore it often but he felt like it would be best to do it now. Nicky’s eyes lit up of course.
The ice cream at sweeties was harder to eat then usual. He actually liked sweets, much like his brother. But now his throat and chest felt like they were closing up. He tried to eat as slow as possible, so Andrew can start stealing some. When they got to Eden’s he felt himself start to slow down a bit. It was weird. He felt pretty wired all week almost, weather it was the caffeine or the drive to get his shit done. This feeling wasn’t unknown to him, but doesn't make it any less unexpected.
He kept to himself mostly, his mouth felt clench shut anyways at the moment. He ignore Andrew and Neil’s weird way of flirting and Kevin trying to not over drink. He just spited on his glass, that turned into four more. He started to feel the buzz, it almost felt like it wasn't there. Maybe he wasn’t entirely there either.
He stared out the window on the drive to the house. He liked driving in the dark. Seeing all the nights go by, nothing in between. Nicky and Kevin were seated next to him. They all been toning it down since Neil’s first seasons drama.
When they got to the house he went straight to him room. He wanted to shower but couldn’t find the effort to do so. He stuck to taking off his pants and shirt, throwing on a new top and leaving his boxers on. He turned off the lights then climbed into bed.
The next morning Aaron stayed in bed, he listen to some music on his phone. During the afternoon he decided to start watching the office. He didn't move. Everything felt heavy and started to blend together, time blended together. He faintly heard Nicky knocking on his door telling him something about ordering food. Food. He just kept staring at his phone screen.
Before he knew it, it was Sunday. He forgot they had no school on Monday or practice. So they would be leaving Monday afternoon.
Aaron thought he heard Andrew, or what sounded like his foot steps stopping in front of his door, but he stopped paying attention to that to know if he knocked or not. It wasn’t like he did this before. Of course he left his room to get food or use the bathroom. He probably should use the bathroom. He smelled, and needs to urinate. Getting up seemed more like a death sentence right now then the smell of sweat and the cramp in his lower stomach.
It wasn't until he heard his door open that he started to register that it was dark outside. Judging by the silence it was most likely his twin. He didn't turn around to check though. Just like he didn't bother to pause the show.
“It smells like shit in here.” Yeah he knew that, just didn't care. Aaron wanted to be left alone right now. His voice isn't working so he chose to continue to ignore Andrews presence. Not to be petty but it was a good taste of his own medicine. “I have food.” Aaron choose to look over at the door then. His brother holding a bowl of something, most likely cereal. Just sitting up was a chore. Andrew handed him the bowl. He looked towards Aaron’s phone, stuffed and walked out. He seemed like he wanted to say something, Aaron waited, then he heard the foot steps pause. But he then heard the door close. He stared at his bowl and picked up the spoon. The first bite was ash and sugar. The rest tasted like nothing as he scuffed it down. He sat it on the floor not to gently and turned back over to continue the show, not caring that it was probably a new episode by now.
Aaron was awoken by the need to piss. The cramp caused him to curl up with his knees to his chest. The sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing came out ragged. He tried to crawl out of bed but fell on the floor in the process. He laid there instead, he felt one tear go down his face. He was not about to piss himself. He tried to get up again but then light shown in his face. Realizing the door opened he flinched back in surprise. Looking up he saw Neil standing there still holding the door handle. They watched each other closely before Neil came in and ask Aaron if it was okay to help him. He nodded a yes.
Neil got him to his feet and let Aaron hold on to his shoulder. When they got out the door he saw Andrew standing in the hallways. He saw emotion on his brothers face that he didn't want to see again. Once in the bathroom he relieved himself.
After he just sat on the bathroom floor and drifted off. Andrew woke him up when he heard the tub then shower start. His brother sat him on the toilet and told him to wash himself. When he left and shot the door Aaron got in fully clothed. He sat in the tub and let the water it him. He heard Andrew come back in.
“Hand me your clothes.” He slowly took off his shirt and had to stand up using the wall to take off his boxers. He handed them to Andrew around the curtain. When he felt more aware he grabbed his bar of soap and wash clothe and washed his body. He turned off the water and asked for a Towel. When his Brother handed it to him he left to let Aaron get out. He then changed into the clean clothes Andrew left on the toilet.
When he got out the bathroom he notice the sun was already starting to come up. It was still dark though. He went to the kitchen where he saw Nicky, who gave him a teary smile. He didn't understand way. Nicky handed him a sandwich and gave him a bigger smile. He whispered a thank you and slowly ate. If tears came to his eyes as he ate they didn't say anything.
When Kevin woke up he made Aaron a smoothie, one he actually thought wasn't disgusting.
#aaron minyard#andrew minyard#all for the game#aftg#the foxhole court#tfhc#neil josten#ed#aaron ed#kevin day#twinyards#minyard twins
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Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Yuma Ecstasy [05]
ー The scene starts in the living room of Kino’s manor
Kino: Hey, hey Yuma! Let’s go out and have some fun!
Yuma: Fuck off! Leave me alone! Now’s hardly the time to be playin’ ‘round!
Kino: Do you really have to be that rude? I was so kind as to come visit since I figured you might be feeling lonely.
Yuma: I never asked!!
Kino: Now that we’re here in the human world anyway, why not go spread our wings? I’m sure she must feel like the walls are closing in on her as well?
Selection
→ He does have a point
Yui: Maybe a little, yeah...
Yuma: ...Che.
Yui: ( H-He blatantly clicked his tongue in response. )
→ That’s not true (❦)
Yui: That’s not true. I’m fiーー
Kino: See? She’s bored just as I thought! Then why don’t we go outside for once? Okay? Come on, chop chop!
*Rustle*
Yuma: ...Don’t push me! Oi!
ー The scene shifts to the shopping district
Yuma: ...
Yui: ( Yuma-kun looks grumpy... )
Kino: When will you stop being so irritated? We came here to have fun so why not try and enjoy it?
Yuma: ...I came to ya ‘cause I wanted to save the Ghouls.
Yet you’re lazin’ off and only thinkin’ ‘bout havin’ fun. How am I not supposed to get pissed then?
Kino: Oh come on, don’t say that. You might not expect it, but I’ve been thinking as well.
Ah! Let’s hit up that place next. It looks interesting.
ー Kino walks away
Yuma: ...Yeah right.
*TIMESKIP*
Kino: Ahー I had a blast.
Yui: ( Time flew by as we were having fun... )
Kino: That was so much fun. Right, Yui?
Yuma: Happy now?
Kino: Hmー Not yet, I guess.
Yuma: ...Quit the crap!
ー Yuma grabs hold of his collar
Yui: Yuma-kun!
Yuma: Did ya not hear me? I’m not here to play games with ya, mate.
Kino: ...Haah. Don’t be such a party pooper.
*Thud*
Kino: Then let me ask you? If you want to save the Ghouls so badly, do you have a plan in mind already?
Go ahead. What do you think we should do? You’ve got a brain inside that head of yours, don’t you? So tell me.
Yuma: What, ya ask...?
Kino: Don’t tell me you’ve been saying all those things without even thinking of anything yourself? You’re in no position to criticize me then.
I guess I have no other choice but to spell it out for you brainless fool.
Ghouls don’t have magic. In other words, they’ll get taken out by Demons in one hit regardless of their number.
You haven’t forgotten how Lucks got absolutely destroyed, have you?
Yuma: ...
Kino: We have zero chance at winning if we try and fight them head-on. In which case...
Yuma: ...Whatcha gonna do?
Kino: We’ve just gotta play it smart, no? Like this, for example. ーー Check out that guy over there.
Yui: Kino-kun? What are yーー
*Woosh*
Man: Uaaaaah!!
Yuma: !? Ya bastard, what didya do!?
Kino: Don’t worry. That guy’s not a human. He’s a Demon.
I finally found my target. I couldn’t possibly let him escape now, could I?
Yuma: Target...!?
Yui: Don’t tell me we’ve been wandering around town this whole time because...?
Kino: Ahaha! Seems like you’ve got a couple more brain cells than Yuma does. Exactly. I was looking for the next target on my hit list.
You didn’t realize at all? Fufu, not only are you an idiot, but you’re dense as well.
Yuma: ...Is huntin’ Demons in the human world what you’d call ‘doin’ it the smart way’?
Kino: Not quite, to be precise. By hunting down Demons here in the human world, we’re getting our hands on back-up.
Yui: Back-up...?
Kino: Basically, there’s people here who would be more than happy to see Demons disappear from the human world.
It was the people from the Church ーー Who came to me with the request to hunt down Demons.
Yui: Ehーー...?
Monologue
All color faded from my complexion,
at Kino-kun’s words.
The Church (教会) ーー While that place,
had a nostalgic ring to it for me,
I simply could not believe it.
It would mean that by joining forces with a Demon (魔族),
the Church had been deceiving me all along.
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
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Trial of Skids part 6
After lighting all the candles surround, Deafi sits down with Kraa. The next trial is about to begin but then Kraa says.
"You know what, no." And stands up.
Before they even have a chance to say anything or stand up, they are brought to another place.
Alone.
Again.
...
"And here I thought we supposed to be going together. Well, at least you didn't try to throw me to Eden after that lil' song." Standing up, they look around.
"Wow, this place looks huge!"
"Floating rocks and stuff." For some reasons, the grey colour of this place is much uglier than the previous trial, why is that? Also, this place makes their eyes hurted.
"Ugh, curse that I can't rub my eyes unwisely. Maybe I should adjust my glasses a bit."
Talking to oneself again, Krill, they are pathetic.
After redo the adjustment, they go up to the giant wall. There are two stones that are placed oe each side of the maybe giant gate.
They light the stones up and the gate immediately float.
"Wow! Aren't this such a grand entrance!!!"
Smiling to themselves, Deafi walks in the place and a minute later, they discover this is a maze. Not aMAZEing like they thought though, the rotation rocks make them sick.
Finding a way out isn't that hard to be honest. A minute later, they meet an acquaintance.
"Oh hey there! You're hmm right, you didn't tell me your name. Ori it is then, you went alone?"
"..."
"Right, you don't talk."
"..."
"Mind if I come with you?" Without waiting for a reply, they grab Ori's hand and smiles.
"..."
This Ori doesn't say anything and just lead Deafi. There are floating and rotation rocks in front of them, underneath is pitch black void, Kraa will love to throw her enemies into it and that's a lot since she hates everyone and everyone hates her.
"What's your opinion of this trial? I have the rotation rocks and the grey colour of it."
"..."
"By the way, you ok by yourself? I mean, the rumor may sounds stupid but just be careful, nothing is the same after we came, even it's from millions years ago..."
"..."
Ori jumps and lands safety on the first rock, the second one... miss.
Both fall down into the void, the annoying flash bright white show in front of their eyes.
And the next thing they know, Deafi is back on the ground and Ori is missing.
"..."
Server changed when you die huh?
"Oh well, this is just a simple maze, I can finish this right away."
If there was a time machine, they wanted to go back in the past and slapped their own face for saying that.
...
...
...
...
"Well, look who is finally back from the torture trial, did you feel miserable and agitated when you keep falling and failing to do such simple tasks?"
They do not expect anything more from Kraa, just doing yoga right there and chilling and just drinking up their joyless smile.
They stand up and walk toward her, Kraa notices and stop what she's doing.
Deafi put their hands on the wall to stop the dizziness and their shaky movements.
"Kraa..."
"What?"
"Give me a hot frying Krill so that I won't wriggle your damn neck, tore your head up and use it as a ball in a paddle sport. While I will chop up your body to pieces and feed them to the Crabs." They speak in a neutral voice with a humourless smile on their face.
If the words are for the strangers, they may or may not think that Deafi is joking. Even with a cheerful expression can be turned cold and sour with just a bad day.
No, they won't turn into The Joker, that's stupid.
Kraa looks at Deafi and replies. "Wow, today is a bad day for you to make you that pissed off or the trial of earth just sucked your joys out. Anyway, do continue, I need more threatening words for those bastard that scamed my Candles and Hearts."
"I wish but now I'm feeling tired and lazy after the trial." They put their hands down and ask, "Why didn't you tell me about server changed? Or the krilling rotation rocks! I feel sick just by seeing them rotated and standing on them!!!"
Kraa looks at them as if they are stupid. "To make you suffered."
"..."
"Also, even if I mentioned to you beforehand, you would still too lazy to prepared."
Well, she is not wrong about that. They literally just slept on the ground in public right after the first trial.
"Ok but ya know what? You carry me to the next trial!"
With no hesitation, Deafi jumps on Kraa's back.
"Let's go, tiny!"
"... I can hear the sounds of Krills tearing you apart just now."
TBC...
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@starttheanarchy from X
"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.
Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.
"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.
"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.
"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."
At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.
It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.
Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.
A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.
"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.
"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."
Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.
"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."
"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued.
"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."
"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."
"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."
Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.
He decided not to express his shock.
"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."
"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."
"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."
"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."
"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"
He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."
"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."
"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."
He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.
"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."
He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.
#jack was not expecting that either hsndkdkd#and also i do see what you mean about this turning into a whole ass novel hahaha#it could've been paradise // borderlands 2
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July 2020
The Alpha’s Warlock by Eliot Grayson: I started this book because the synopsis had a Sterek vibe and honestly it ended up being funny and cute. The end battle was not cute and the ending felt a bit rushed but considering I had no expectations beyond lol sounds like Sterek, this was better than I thought.
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Leguin: My understanding of the story is that a wizard was on a journey and met a lot of people. I think there were a couple fights but mostly they just talked. There was a dragon. I’m not sure what the point was because I was listening to this on audiobook and the voice of the reader was so calming and deep I kept dropping out of the story and just listened to the voice.
Rough Canvas by Joey W. Hill: Oh boy did this piss me off. I’ve calmed some since, but I still wish I had never started this book. On top of all my smaller annoyances I think the biggest reason I hated this so much was the other main character’s relationship with his family. And this is not an isolated situation with only this book, this is a thing that will make me hate a book so fast if it’s not properly handled. Basically, the family took him for granted and I would call the mother abusive with the way she treated him. And he felt like he had a duty to them, that he needed to give up everything to take care of them and forgive all the shit they did. And I am not here for that. I do not believe in unconditional family love, if they treat you like shit, cut them out of your life.
Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall: After that rant, I forgave this book so much because this could have done that and it didn’t. I thought the main character was a bit of an asshole to be honest, but maybe because he was like that, he actually cut ties with shitty family. I wasn’t a huge fan of any of the characters but the story had it’s moments. I don’t remember much so I wouldn’t call this memorable except for that first point because it seems to be too rare and I need more of that.
Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid: What even happened in this? It was cute but less cheesy than the first book in this series. I don’t actually think there was all that much plot, just big hockey stars fucking, I guess they fell in love since it is a romance book. I may have a thing for sports stars falling in love...
Hat Trick by Eden Finley: ...since this kind of continues that trend too. Though this had the problem of the other party being a rock star and that’s such a meh for me. I didn’t really care for him in the previous books in the series and this didn’t make me care either. However, it’s totally a me thing so I can’t call this book bad based on it, especially when I’ve liked the previous ones and this isn’t any worse, it’s just the musician thing. Also the endings for these books are so cheesy. I use that word too much I’m sorry, I don’t have a better one in English.
The Deep by Rivers Solomon: The concept of this is super interesting and I liked the book a lot. It’s a pretty short book and I’m kinda glad it is because the subject was a lot heavier than what I normally read and I’m not sure I could have given it the level of focus it required and deserved all through if it had been longer.
The Old Guard by Greg Rucka: This was ok. I mean I like the concept and the story but the art isn’t my favorite. I kind of preferred the movie version, the story was mostly the same with a couple changes and there was Charlize Theron.
Haltiain verta (The Witcher: Blood of Elves, Finnish translation) by Andrzej Sapkowski: Ok here we go. I liked this surprisingly much. I wasn’t sure what to expect after the two short story collections. This doesn’t have that much plot to be honest, there are people plotting a war and Ciri training. The thing is, I really like the female characters and their scenes make the book so much better, as they did in the previous ones. I especially like Triss and Yen is awesome too. I kinda really dislike Jaskier a lot, to the point I have trouble understanding why he got so popular after the Netflix show even though I KNOW his character in the show is very different, for a good reason.
Not Your Villain by C.B. Lee: Yeah so, here’s the thing: I really do not care about teenage love trouble. I appreciate the diversity and it was great for parents to be present in a YA book and I’m sure if I was 15+ years younger I would have liked this a lot. The plot is just very basic for someone who has been reading superhero stories for over 10 years and while the parents were there, it kind of killed the purpose when the kids decided the adults weren’t doing enough and that as true teenagers they obviously know better.
Someday Someday by Emma Scott: Back to the forgiving abusive family thing I hate but level it up a bit. It took me ages to finish this and I was so close to not finishing at all, but I have yet to learn how to give up on any book no matter how much I hate it. It’s a problem. At least I liked the main couple fine enough. This could have been a very cute hurt/comfort story, but it was a bit too heavy on the hurt for me. I guess someone who likes angsty stories and can overlook the family thing would like this.
Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh: This was lovely. The concept was lovely. The story was lovely. It was a bit weird and super short so I was a bit lost a couple of times about what was real and what was happening, but I didn’t feel like it in anyway ruined the story for me. I don’t mind being a bit lost. As I’m writing this I’ve also read the sequel and it cleared up a couple questions I was left with too.
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Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory RP #48
After being done at the tech-priest’s lab, our heroes return to the ship to leave for Styria. It’ll take a few hours for that, so they’ll have time to do other stuff. Z47r asks Gorm whether he may lend the test results of Gorm’s brother he was shown at the lab earlier, because he did notice that there was a spirit stone of him in the lab as well, so might as well make sure whether he has the same virus as Uffe. Gorm agrees that this would be a good course of action, so Z47r goes to find a lab for himself.
Gorm and Uffe leave for their room, talking in quiet Fenrisian among themselves. Before Gimlet manages to escape, Saef grabs him and tells him he needs him in his room. They go there, and find Theo stuffing assorted meat into the toilet at the same as he tries to stop Felis Catus from eating it. He has lifted the unconscious, naked eldar onto the bed. Saef asks Theo to go to Molly’s place for a bit and after he has left, he asks Gimlet to help the man, while he gets him clothes and a towel to cover at least some of him. Gimlet gives the man a shot that should wake him up and then takes a step back. Saef stays guard at the bedside.
Gimlet notices the man waking, though he attempts to look like he hasn’t and greets him. The eldar sits up. He is not trusting of the humans that have saved him, though Saef attempts to reason with him. They ask why he was there, and he tells them that he and his brother were captured by Inquisition. The eldar is very bad on describing people, but Gimlet shows the man a picture of Tanner and that’s not it. They ask the eldar of his name and he tells them it’s Ynmarg. Ynmarg doesn’t know what has been done to him at the lab he was in, he doesn’t know how long has passed. Oh yeah, Saef and Gimlet mention that his brother was killed by a friend of theirs, which honestly doesn’t appear to surprise Ynmarg much. Maybe Ynmarg could take a shower and put on clothes? Asks Saef. Please? Continues Gimlet, but Ynmarg isn’t too keen on that, asking when he can leave. Saef says that right now he is most safe here, and Ynmarg definitely isn’t happy to hear that. It seems there isn’t much our heroes can get out of him.
Gimlet says he should go drop the spirit stones off at Cayenne’s safe. He does show Ynmarg one and Ynmarg leaps from the bed, snatching it from Gimlet’s grasp, exclaiming that those don’t belong to Gimlet. Upon learning that there are more of them, he demands to be given them, and when he is told no, he attacks Gimlet with his psychic powers. Saef shoves him away from Gimlet with a psychic blast and tells Gimlet to leave. Ynmarg hisses at Saef that he will haunt Saef until the day he dies or until he gets the spirit stones back, cradling the spirit stone in his hands. Felis Catus comes to cuddle with the eldar and lick the strange goop off him. Saef leaves the two.
Uffe and Gorm talk while they are making their way to Gorm’s room. Gorm lets Uffe know he is planning on calling Fenris and explaining everything. Uffe has nothing to say against that, Gorm says Uffe should call and report too and Uffe says he needs to think about what he is going to say. Gorm also apologizes to Uffe about what he suggested back at the lab, about Uffe joining the Deathwatch Blackshields, it was not alright. Uffe wants to know if they’re still going to continue with the mission like before, with Uffe confronting Rolf, even if neither one of them may be the people they thought they are, Gorm thinks this is a good plan, and if Rolf’s still able to be saved, well… Uffe says he can’t figure out how Rolf would have allowed any of this happen, and not be lost, but perhaps that’ll be a conundrum for another day.
Lastly Gorm brings up the strong negative reaction of Gimlet and Saef when Gorm killed the eldar back at the base, and he wants Uffe’s opinion of the situation because Uffe is better at reading people. Of Gimlet Uffe thinks he was mostly concerned with getting information, but from Saef, Uffe got definite fear. Gorm is surprised to hear that, of course he wouldn’t hurt Saef. Uffe suggests bringing it up, in a not-so-defensive manner, but first a call to Fenris.
Gimlet goes to visit Tabasco at the medbay, he wants him to check in on the wound Ynmarg left. Tabasco questions where Gimlet got a clearly psychic wound and Gimlet tells him to not worry about it, it’s all under control. Tabasco is not very happy to hear this, saying he isn’t feeling very trusted right now. He shares with Gimlet the results of the test aka that the sample from the tech-priest’s lab is as surmised from Gimlet, and asks what Gimlet wants to do with it. Gimlet asks Tabasco to send it to his father. Tabasco says he does so, but he is clearly still quite mad at Gimlet for not telling him stuff, and leaves the situation quite pissed, despite Gimlet’s attempts to remind him of his affection.
Gorm calls up Sveleighr on Fenris and lets him know of the clone situation, as well as his own misstep regarding planning on putting Uffe into the Blackshields (he asks to receive conditioning once he returns to Fenris). There is some strange comfort in that this whole clone situation seems to finally shake Sveleighr, who says he must consult his runes about the matter. Sveleighr says that if the matter of the clones can’t be definitely fixed, Snorri’s and Uffe’s bodies must get to Fenris to be investigated. Gorm asks if he should send them right ahead, but Sveleighr wouldn’t risk it, as chaos has had dealings in this tale. If Gorm doesn’t make it Cayenne will make sure the bodies reach Fenris.
Gimlet meets up with Saef back near their room and they go to Gimlet’s room to chat, as Saef has something important to tell Gimlet. Saef says that Rat is an eldar, a fact Saef isn’t too happy to reveal without her permission, but seeing how Gorm acted back on Triplex Phall, Saef really needs someone to have his back and he thinks Gimlet could help. He makes it clear Rat has been raised among the humans and has no connections to the eldar people as a whole. The duo also thinks if they should let Cayenne know about the eldar in Saef’s room, as she could grant him asylum, but before they can do anything, Gorm is a-knocking on Gimlet’s door, so they let him in.
Gorm informs them that he has now reported to Fenris, and when Gimlet asks if it was a nice conversation, Gorm answers it was not. The subject of Z47r is brought up (by Gimlet I think), sort of asking how does the group feel about him. Gorm says that so far he seems to be a helpful and an agreeable fellow, and reminds the duo that despite what the tech-priest has done they’re on the same side here, and the assistance of the Mechanicus is a good thing. Gimlet seems doubtful that Z47r won’t get into the way. Gorm says it’s a bit hard at this point to reason to him, why he should let the trio (+ Uffe) deal with the situation that so clearly concerns the Mechanicus.
Gorm brings up Ahram in the lab and Saef admits it wasn’t a surprise to see him there, as he knew that Ahram was a clone. Saef explains the situation briefly. Gorm admits that he is having trouble with Uffe’s situation and asks his friends not let him make a decision about it without enough information (enough information, not all information, Gimlet).
Gorm has something he wanted to talk with the others about, mainly Saef. He mentions having debriefed with Uffe about the eldar-killing situation and how Uffe saw that Saef was scared afterwards. Gorm says he is not going to kill Saef, just because he’s a psyker, and yeah, maybe this whole situation highlights the differences of opinion within the Imperium, as clearly Gimlet and Saef feel differently about keeping eldar alive and getting information from them than Gorm. But that’s okay (well, maybe not that specifically, but differences in general), Gorm has learned that he can learn from different people, such as the Ultramarines and their Primarch, a thing which is unusual to the Space Wolves, and Gorm can cop to that. They can always talk about situations like this, since they are friends.
Saef says that he wasn’t scared for himself in that moment but rather on the account of someone else. Gorm says he wouldn’t execute a friend of Saef’s like that, even if Saef’s sympathizing with xenos is slightly worrying. But luckily that shouldn’t happen, right? No xenos pals around… Saef lets Gorm know Rat is, though raised among humans, an eldar, and Gorm admits he couldn’t even have guessed. Where is she anyway? She is after Inpax because Inpax has Eden. Well it’s a shared cause then, as they are trying to find Inpax too. Gorm promises he won’t kill Rat, and he’ll tell Uffe to do the same. Z47r might be a problem, but not one they can’t talk themselves out of, surely. Gorm asks if Rat wants to return to her people, and Saef says she doesn’t know eldar, but that Saef isn’t sure. It might be for the best.
Gorm lets Uffe know what’s up, and makes him promise not to kill Rat, which he does. Meanwhile Saef and Gimlet go to find Cayenne to let her know there’s an eldar on board. She is pretty chill about and goes to talk with Ynmarg. She is quite a talker as she manages to convince him to dress up finally and arranges for him to have a room of his own. She asks if our heroes would be willing to part with the spirit stones once they’re done with them, as those are the things Ynmarg desperately wants back. This seems agreeable.
Next up, our heroes need to deal with Z47r so he won’t be a trouble when it comes to Rat. They find him at a lab, not wearing his usual overcoat (which makes his relation to Vivek more noticeable). He lets our heroes know that he indeed does have the life-eater virus. “That’s logical,” says Gorm, and Z47r tends to agree, logical indeed. Saef brings up the fact that they are expecting to meet an eldar in their travels, an eldar that is young and has grown among humans. Z47r doesn’t quite get why she shouldn’t be killed, but Saef manages to convince him (using logic!) that she is best handed over to an Inquisitor of Ordo Xenos. That’s settled then.
After that Gimlet and Saef let Gorm know that there’s an eldar on board, but that he is Cayenne approved. Gorm grumbles a bit, but acquiesces. They decide to go talk to now-clothed and slightly calmer Ynmarg. Still a bit prone to dramatics (possibly a Harlequin in before-becoming-Ynnari-life?). Few things they find out, Ynmarg’s capturer was Inquisitor Engarde (Saef shows the picture he got from Demir). He has been held by the tech priest for some 5 years (they calculate this using Guilliman’s return as an anchoring point). They ask more about the spirit stones, Ynmarg says he can’t tell everything, but also admits that humans shouldn’t be able to use them. He still claims the stone he stole from Gimlet is empty, so he is shown the other stones (not before he and Gorm argue about putting a blindfold on him, which he refuses). Ynmarg is quite concerned about what is put in the stones. He also mentions spirit stones being tied to certain people, so he is taken to see Uffe where he confirms that the stone is tied to him (but not to the other Uffe). Saef asks Ynmarg if his people would take Rat in, and he says that his goddess Ynnead is for all the eldar. Gorm makes a snide-ish comment about Ynmarg’s devotion to his goddess, but that’s about it with him.
Gimlet returns to Tabasco and apologizes for not telling him stuff. He explains that he got the wound from an eldar they got on board before telling Cayenne, so this is why he didn’t tell Tabasco. Tabasco accepts the apology. Gimlet freely admits that he still has a lot of trouble trusting people, and Tabasco reminds him that he has people who care for him, who haven’t betrayed his trust so far, and though Tabasco can see that it is hard for Gimlet, the mistrust is still something that can hurt people who care for Gimlet. But all good for now, so the two go out to get coffee.
Before our heroes leave for Styria, Vivek catches up with them, wanting to say goodbye, which boils mostly down to “hope you guys don’t die”, since there isn’t much else to do. Gorm thanks Vivek for the well-wishes and says that he has appreciated Vivek’s company and contributions and it’s a shame that he can’t come with. Uffe hugs Vivek and they exchange a few murmured words between the two of them. Saef tells Vivek he’s probably the best friend he’s got through this whole adventure, and VIvek laughs and warns him not to tell his sister that. They also hug. Vivek makes clear that his wish encompasses Gimlet who says alright. So off they go!
Our heroes get Z47r and teleport on the planet’s surface, not quite on top of where Rolf is supposed to be but near, which turns out to be an entrance to a Necron temple, outside which is the ship of (ex-)Inquisitor Inpax as well as Inquisitor Corrida and their crew.
#nemo roleplays#long post#wag rp#wag rp writeup#campaign tag: the one where it ends#my fave part of this session was def#everyone's faces when i told the reason why felis catus was eating the random meat on saef's floor#was bc eden had fed his father's corpse to her#it's what one does when one is a slightly feral robot#makes you wonder how kuru connected to him in the first place#as it has been implied that a lot of eden's relative niceness is from him#and now im sad about these two again
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