#i have like half the beginning of three routes already done

[kinokoshoujoart]

CORRECT TAGS‼️‼️‼️‼️ @rn0na-lizard you are so so so correct….. my favorite ‘Normal Girl’ in hmds…….i almost never see anyone talk about these aspects of her let alone also love her for them as they should.

i feel like Leona/ DS lumina gets mischaracterized super often which is understandable bc out of all the DS candidates leona is the least like her ancestor (who i also love, for different reasons).

in AWL lumina was the only kid in the valley for a very long time, but many of the DS residents have lived in the valley their whole lives. while lumina had accepted her role as a proper young heiress by chapter 3 of AWL— and when DS begins Leona already at this point of her life— lumina still had a lingering sense of uncertainty and angst and loneliness and doubt, and unresolved worries about her parents. absolutely none of this is present with leona

in this world leona starts with Lumina’s 22 year old appearance, she’s just rich as hell and living her best life (as she deserves), she’s unabashedly shallow, puts herself first always, speaks so politely and affably yet she can be so casually cruel in the most genuine cute way and out of touch with reality and and i fucking love her and i’d die for her. my beloved girlboss girlkeep girlypop

more iconic Leona Moments

when muu/muffy asks for beauty advice leona’s recommendation is “this brand of mail order beauty cream is simply divine! and it was quite inexpensive too, just 100,000 G 🥰” everyone else looks uncomfortable and muu is like “you’re as frivolous as always….”

aside from the 3 who take literally half your money (Witch💖, moi, and thomas) leona and panama (romana) take the most money from you if they carry you home when you faint. just a couple of girl bosses holding on to their girlpire (btw shout out to sebastian, the only resident in the entire valley who carries you home for free)

neither panama nor leona attend the harvest festival, they send sebastian there by himself to test the food first lmao (if you poison it like the witch they’re harboring on their property requires you to do, sebastian is just like “i can’t serve this to Mistress Panama…”)

once again sebastian attacks mukumuku for her sake, this time not to make her a paintbrush but she told him to get her the best slippers and this was apparently the easiest way. sebastian gets fucking mauled btw

leona has hands down the best romance route in hmds. all her scenes are incredible but god the slow burn friends to lovers with your DVD player….

in her purple heart event she shows up at your house because she heard you have a DVD player, asks you to show her how it works, and then just leaves after she’s done playing with it

in her yellow heart event she has sebastian fetch van so she can buy a DVD player for herself but van’s like “i’m so sorry …. Pete… bought the last one….”

leona is so unable to stomach the idea of other people having things she doesn’t that she starts to cry and the only way to placate her is to tell her she can go to your house anytime she wants just so she can use your DVD player. that’s not a setup to a budding romance that’s her final heart event

it’s the most incredible romance arc in the world like girl you have infinite money you can just. buy a DVD player somewhere else?? “i want to watch DVDs at my house just like you!” leona you have three entire bedrooms

“rich girl love interest who has everything except love, win her heart by having genuine conversation with her”: done to death, tired, i don’t have time for that

“rich girl love interest who has everything except a fucking DVD player, win her heart by giving her expensive stuff and ‘relax tea’ and access to your DVD player”: audacious, intriguing, never been done before, innovative

if you deny her god-given right to access your DVD player she is like “Is that so……………Just let me be alone for a little bit.” incredible tragedy i understand. take as much time as you need to grieve darling

oh but her first heart event asks you to pick a side in an argument she’s having with panama and the correct answer is to say “sebastian is the one who’s wrong” (sebastian has said nothing wrong this whole time and yet both of them have just been yelling at him to shut up)

and her blue heart event is “help me find this heirloom necklace… boohoo…” and when you find it she’s like “perfect! now grandma won’t get mad at me. hmm, you seem pretty dependable…♡” augh she’s way too good at this…….!!! i’ll do anything for you!

when you propose she says “of course, i always dreamed of having a romance and a wedding♡” and says nothing abt how she feels about you <3

also if you marry her, once a week she goes to hang out at her ex love interest’s place for 6 hours straight and comes home saying “whew… i had so much fun that i must have lost track of time… i’ll hurry on home”

if you marry another girl she starts flirting with you like “I’m so envious of your wife, having such a fine husband… Pete.” (or whatever your name is)

i’ve become obsessed with her and romeo’s horrible trainwreck soap opera marriage since replaying cute in jp… it’s SO… i have so much to say about them that it should be its own post but i’ll just give the cliffnotes

shotgun wedding vibes. romeo is surprised by his own wedding. they’re childhood friends but he himself has never considered marrying her. her words to him at their wedding are “Make me happy♡” (command)

she understandably can’t stand his terrible table manners or his clothes or anything about him (except that she wants to watch him surf and have his child. but he instead walks in circles all day. coward) and he’s both really good at accidentally stepping on landmines and just ever so slightly majorly terrified of her after marriage (“but surely her angry outbursts are just her way of showing love hahahahaha” you’re going to die. she’s going to kill you). the only positive things they say about their marriage are extremely shallow. they can’t communicate with each other because romeo always says the Dumbest Shit obliviously and leona always responds by cutting him out of her life forever!!!!!! (for 5 seconds) while he has no idea what happened

they are both so melodramatic and they both just do nothing except make each other worse and run away from each other and push each other away but they can’t escape each other. neither of them ever has to grow or change if they marry each other because an elderly overworked man is sustaining both of their existences and neither of them can take care of themselves and i love them your honor

also romeo’s first crush as a kid was apparently her mom, and if leona falls for YOU she flirts by mentioning that sebastian says you look like the spitting image of her dead father. dear fucking god

they’re the epitome of “You're both just enabling each other's mental illnesses. You're both perfect for each other. Never change. Just never involve anybody else in what you've got going on.”

romeo really does feel like her stupid lackey. like the karen to her regina. they even had this dynamic in the games they played as kids… she was the Harvest Goddess and he was Servant A/Minion A (they might still be playing this game as adults…he calls her lady/mistress sometimes after marriage…)

btw leona’s best friend (wife) marivia is also just as… there’s an event where they just gossip about all the mineral town ppl and marivia says ann would win a gluttony contest and they both giggle

there’s also an event where marivia casually walks into Witch’s hut and just interviews her so she can write her into a novel. witch is left completely drained by this exchange. leona and marivia both are so chill about the horrible cruel villainess living in leona’s shed who wants the town poisoned and rewards you for killing animals and hurting yourself and is putting curses on everyone (and they’re right. she’s never done anything wrong in her life)

#i also feel like leona and marivia summoned Witch (just girlypop things summoning hot evil ladies from hell) #i’m a marivia x leona x witch truther. the evidence is out there. evil yuri triad (real) #i also love to believe that witch is fucking with all the rival couples in the valley but ESPECIALLY romeo x leona #since she’s petty about her crush (leona) choosing the village idiot of all people #she can’t affect gustafa and nami because gustafa is like a garden gnome type that wards away evil #leona would make coquette edits of phantom skye/steiner #man i really have a lot of overlapping ships but i just like thinking about everyone together in some way #marivia was interviewing witch for a girls love leona x witch sequel in that series she wrote that has the main character based on leona #(this was revealed to me in a dream) #bokumono #harvest moon ds #hmds #harvest moon #story of seasons #hmds leona #hmds lumina #i’m sorry for going ham about your tags i promise i’m normal #^_−☆ #hmds cute #i feel like everyone collectively forgot what hmds was like which is understandable because it’s a fever dream #or maybe we misremembered it from our childhoods #but replaying the girl and boy versions in english and japanese has really refreshed my views on the characters #i have so much to say about everyone mostly the rival couples #love the dysfunction and bad vibes in this game #poisoned water supply type of townsfolk #girls hour (meet up in the mines to beat each other up and slaughter various animals and humanoids to eat) #it’s such an evil game #haunted by natsume malware ghosts

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

yellow rose with idia? ^^

Idia Shroud:

Yellow Rose - a happy thought that causes a smile.

Today was a day to celebrate memories.

Idia awkwardly fumbled with his tie, feeling it was so tight it might strangle him. Ortho had checked at least three times and confirmed it was fine, but had since left the room to focus on other tasks that needed to be done. Idia had practically thrown him out as the constant reminder of his quickened pulse and high blood pressure only made his anxiety feel worse. He could only stare at himself in the mirror for so long, though he did admire his handiwork as his hair was neatly braided with his brushed aside to prevent his face from being covered. There weren’t many stylists gifted with the ability to style cursed hair and he’d really rather do it himself anyway.

Today was too important for anything to go wrong.

“It’s time!” Ortho floated into the room with an excited look on his face, gesturing to the hall where there would be many people awaiting his arrival. It made his knees knock together as he’s about to be thrown into an ultra-stressful situation, like he was desperately climbing ladders and avoiding barrels to reach a princess who didn’t even want him.

But you did want him, because how else would he have ended up here?

He has a lot to thank Ortho for, including the embarrassing situation that had got you here to begin with. They had been playing a silly little otome game together, meaning Idia was on a CG collecting journey and Ortho was helping him remember which path led where. There was a scene between two main characters where a note was exchanged, something very juvenile with a ‘do you like me, y/n?’ written on it.

“Have you ever tried that?” Idia was carefully reading the dialogue, making sure there were no flags being raised that he was on the wrong route and thus locked out of a precious CG that constantly eluded him due to the specific choices that had to be done in a very specific order and—

“Tried—Eh?” Idia hit his keyboard and accidentally began to skip already seen dialogue, panicking and back tracking to his previous save while Ortho patiently waited next to him. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“Writing a note!” Ortho pointed at the screen where a crudely drawn note was, suddenly looking around the room as he tried to find a physical example for Idia to use. It took some snooping but he found a few crumpled pieces of paper with madman scrawling on only half of it, tearing it apart and handing over the blank piece. “Ask them if they like you, and then I can deliver it! If they say no, you don’t even have to see them!”

It wasn’t like Ortho to indulge in his brother’s extreme introvert nature, and Idia was nearly swayed before remembering it could also implode the fragile balance of his online friend group. You, him, and Crimson Muscle made a formidable group, often being enough to on most raids together so he didn’t have to interact with other idiots online. It was much less painful to speak with you through a screen, knowing he could erase a message over and over until he got it just right. He couldn’t sacrifice that, could he?

He should’ve known Ortho’s mercy was only temporary.

Idia was forced out of the solitude of his room, a luncheon being held to celebrate the hard work of each dorm leader being held. He’d rather eat his own hands than celebrate but Crowley wouldn’t budge, persistent and irritating about the whole ordeal. The only good part was seeing your face in high-def rather than via a pixelated avatar online. He still didn’t sit directly across from you but diagonal was good enough for him; not the center of your attention but just within your peripheral where you could notice him.

“Psst, brother! I brought it!” Idia has a piece of paper hastily shoved into his hand, “I wrote it last night! Now you can give it to them in person for an even quicker response!”

He’s suddenly certain the entire world is conspiring against him, trying not to attract your attention as he frantically responded to Ortho.

“That won’t work!”

“Why not?” Ortho tilted his head in a clueless gesture, “In 4 out of the 6 good ends, the note is the pivotal moment in all of them! The Bad End only triggered if you didn’t build up your characters confidence enough to pass the note in class!”

Ortho is just quiet enough that you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying but you can hear him speaking, your eyebrows raised as you looked at the Shroud brothers. Idia saw the dialogue options appear before his very eyes as reality blended with video games for a moment: he could either pass the note to you now and accept the consequences or allow Ortho to reveal it was from the plot of some 3-star Otome game since he wasn’t creative enough to come up with his own way to confess.

He had tossed the paper at you, watching it land right in your half-open bag before he dashed, moving quicker than his physical body had ever moved before. He’d personally expel himself if Crowley tried to drag him back out of his room, he’d just take his parents business over and that’d be the end of that. He didn’t know how long he’d been curled up on his bed, face in his pillow as he considered just smothering himself rather than facing the light of day again. Life’s built-in autosave meant his fate was sealed and, somehow, he felt even more cursed than before.

Until a note slipped under his door, the side the writing was on turned upward so he could see it from his bed.

A little ‘y’ circled in red ink had led to this.

A grand hall decorated with flowers, STYX employees in their finest clothing filling most of the seats, the smell of expensive but most likely delicious foods just waiting to steal everyone’s attention away. When Idia entered the room he could see some of his and your family, along with a few friends dotted throughout but he can’t look for long as he felt like he might pass out.

He stood tall at the front of the room, glancing at the entry way anxiously, like he was truly afraid a too big primate would come through beating his fists on his chest and kidnapping his lover. He had been in a position like this before, albeit less willingly, and he began to understand now why it was so important to put his feelings out there even with the chance of rejection. A bell chimes and the music begins, and Idia can’t wipe the smile from his face.

The pointed grin remained even as you approached, your expression mirroring his as you smiled right back; he suspected by the end of the night his cheeks would ache with how happy he was, but he supposed he could put up with it for a day, for you.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Scenario #Flower Prompts

[visualnovelzombie]

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 15 SPOILERS

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - TJ’s Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday”

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

We begin from the route split by following after Tj, who ran off after Flynn’s tirade. The music cuts and we’re left with the sound of the river. We’re met with three options.

The first two will set Chase’s mood for the next bit of dialogue while the third will lock us out of Tj’s route, which is something we haven’t seen before. 

>Leave him be…

Chase narrates that he’s “not exactly graceful with this sort of thing, especially with TJ.”, and then decides to go with the others, giving us the options for the other route choices but not TJ’s.

>Say Something…”

Chase tries to comfort the lynx, but Tj doesn’t respond.

Until Finally…

>Say Nothing…

Chase sits next to Tj and starts breaking twigs in half, eventually annoying Tj. 

Chase asks TJ if he wants to go eat, and he responds with a firm ‘No.’ Until Finally…

>Reconvergence

Tj is upset Flynn was so mean in front of everyone. Chase comments that Tj is clearly frazzled because the lynx has allowed his fur to stay unkempt even after sitting by himself for a while. Chase comments that Tj’s inability to express himself fully is part of what’s dragging the Lynx down so much. The two continue to discuss Flynn’s tirade

I would like to note, this is 71 lines into the route, and the foreshadowing is already on thick lmao

Chase speculates that Flynn is after ‘more than the truth’, and we learn Tj saw Sydney drown. Tj becomes angry at Flynn, because the gila hadn’t realized how much the event affected Tj himself. Tj wishes he could go back to the day, and that he isn’t mad he didn’t save Sydney, he knows he couldn’t have… hinting at wanting something else. Chase glosses over that he could have probably saved Sydney from drowning if he was there.

Chase wants to help Tj with what happened, but says he needs to come to terms with it himself first. We’re treated to a brief flashback of the scene… Flynn drags Chase into the water, and forces the otter to get Sydney while Jenna and Leo try to help where they can.

This is one of the few times that Chase acknowledges, at least in some part, that he had SOMETHING to do with it. Which is an extremely rare case in of itself, but especially on this route. Even late on the same day, we see him act angry and unusual, already over protective of Tj. He doesn’t interact this way on other routes, and to me, reads as the Otter ALREADY being pestered by the entity the fandom has dubbed, ‘Mirror-Man’.

Tj expresses being upset again, which makes Chase angry at Flynn for hurting Tj so much. Come Over begins to play, as Chase reminds Tj about their planned hike. The two plan their hike and talk about what their plans for school, promising to meet up one more time before graduating. The two return to the group who have packed everything in the van already. Leo asks if Tj is fine and after a satisfactory answer, is done with the conversation and heads off to work after dropping everyone else off at the motel.

This is part of my Mirror-Man USUALLY attacks Leo theory but is on/after Chase this time, but Leo’s complete lack of interest or pestering for more information stands out to me greatly here. After talking it out with some people, if it isn’t ‘Mirror-Man’ himself that also goes after Leo other times there’s two ‘alternatives’ that I can see work.

1. The entities in general work through mirrors. Like how they all ‘slither’ along the ground.

2. Chase, now already fixated on Tj, is purposely ignoring Leo/not narrating what’s happening exactly. We know from later that Chase’s narration becomes EXTREMELY unstable/unreliable, and I will admit that maybe some of Leo’s aloofness on this route might come from that, instead of another supernatural dealing.

The remaining four spend a lazy afternoon together before coming back to discussing Flynn. Carl tries to defend the lizard but Tj hard pivots the conversation to ice cream. When asked what his favorite flavor is, Chase’s head buzzes and he’s unable to think of an answer, blurting out Vanilla after a few moments. Chase’s headache gets worse and he’s unable to continue the conversation, and closes his eyes.. Very particular things happen over the next few lines:

Chase wakes on the couch, after some time has passed, indicated by the fade in, to the room being dark, Tj and Jenna in bed, with Carl on the floor asleep.

The scene fades to black, indicating some more time has passed. Chase is in bed next to Tj and is staring at the door.

We’re then met with a dream sequence… Before going into it I would like to point out the two previous scenes both took places at different times, indicated by the fadeouts, and that they were (most likely) NOT dreams. They don’t have the track associated with dreams playing in them, and Chase doesn’t ‘wake up’ from them into this one, like we’ve seen on Carl’s and Leo’s routes. Just bits of time are hard cut by the writing.

--

I want to talk about this for a bit. We’ve seen Chase dip on Sunday night from the motel room to go do... something that’s never explained. Something odd from how it cuts, and the way this sequence is cut, calls into question how much is really going on. I think the first instinct is to accept he’s just going on a walk the previous night, and this night is just his head hurting. BUT, the way this section glosses over large chunks of the day in just a few lines, reads to me that everything is being directly narrated, IS important.

The important bits I get out of this are: Chase takes pictures of someone, or something. (I don’t remember if they come up later in this route or not!), and/or heads for the night. This is to vague to work with right now, but just more lost time at night with our narrator.

With the second being the time cut to lying in bed. Two things stand out to me:

1. Chase is lying NEXT to TJ. Every other time he’s described lying platonicaly with someone, it’s head-to-toe. That’s how he sleeps in the bed with TJ and with Carl normally. 

2. Chase is starring at a door. There are three doors in the room, and we know two are very important. The closet door is where a fox hung himself, but we don’t learn that till Arches. The other door important to the room, is the door to the bathroom. Later on in the route, Chase (and Sam!) are both terrified of what’s in there, the ‘Mirror-Man.’ I’m perposing, at this time, whichever one of them is in control during the night, is sensing that entity or presence already from the bathroom. I’d LOVE to hear other interpretations of this scene though!

--

 Tj is drinking alcohol by the lake. He starts to run away after hearing something, but is eventually pulled back into the lake by a chain. Chase tries to help… but is also chained to the lake.

Chase and Tj are on their hike, with Tj trying to comfort the boiling otter.

...Tj you can’t just say that to Chase, gawd!

After a terrible and awkward attempt at playful flirting, the two continue on their hike. Chase calls into question his understanding of Tj’s sexuality, realizing the two have never discussed it, and how it might intersect with the lynx’s vague faith. We then this is INSANE lore tidbit.

Two hours pass by as the scene cuts, while Old Winds begins to play. Chase, struggling with the intensity of the hike, trips and falls. Tj soaks Chase with another water bottle, much to the otters continued annoyance. Tj is concerned for Chase because HE asked the otter out on the trip. After a bit of rest and… determination on where they should eat, the two continue to the peak of the trail. Tj soaks his shirt with water, showing off his fit form. Chase is … attracted to the sight.

The two make it the peak, resting on a stone bench at the top. Chase enjoys being alone with Tj like this… until a tarantula jumps in his lap.

Tj had pranked Chase with a plastic spider after Jenna insisted upon it. One microaggression later, the two enjoy a nice lunch and we’re treated with a CG

Chase takes off his shirt and the two accidentally touch paws while reaching for a bag of chips, sending Tj squirming off embarrassed. The two make awkward small talk while Tj fixes his fur. The two reminiscent on how they met, with Chase being a bit of bully in the story.

Chase heads off on his own for a second to get shots for his project. Drone begins to play, as some THING narrates FOR Chase inside his head… distinct from Samuel, based off of its font. 

Chase either ignores or pays no attention to the entity and takes the shots he needs. Tj finds Chase taking the shots and comments on the otter’s body, making Chase question Tj more. Tj peers over the edge and we’re met with a Choice…

>Shove him.

The voice narrates Tj’s corpse lying at the bottom of the Canyon… and we’re given the other two options to choose from.

Notable because Chase almost never, if ever, questions Sam outside of the Murder Pit where Sam is the most separate.

We’re given the option to only Grab him and do nothing…

>Grab him.

Chase scares Tj and the two end up flailing around away from the cliff, locked in each other’s arms for a few moments.

>Do nothing

Chase doesn’t want to actually scare him off they cliff so the two stand there for a few moments.

>Reconvergence:

The two try to yell into the canyon, trying to get it to ‘echo’ back to them. The sad and nostalgic track, Canyon, begins to play.

The two comment on the quality of Echoes in Echo. Chase laments the town, while Tj wishes everyone could have come today. The two share an intimate moment for a second, until Tj gets a text message. It sours the Lynx’s mood, but he lies to Chase about it, the music cutting once the lie starts. The two head back home.

...

The two plan the rest of the trip, and tell Jenna to meet them at the diner for dinner. Upon arriving, Jenna remarks on Chase’s… ottery smell. Janice comes to take the groups order, happy to see the trio after they graduated. She also remarks on the mudslide musk in the area, blaming it on another patron. The coyote talks about needing to do some housework in a relatively polite conversation, resulting in Tj volunteering him and Chase for the job. After Jenna and Chase chide Tj for agreeing to the work, Jenna makes another musk comment towards Chase. The otter storms off to the bathroom to clean up in a fit of rage.

Chase tries to alleviate his headache by washing his face in the mirror… but it suddenly continues to worsen.

Chase sees a twisted reflection of himself in the mirror and becomes extremely disoriented. The non-diegetic music and sound effects is described IN text from Chase’s narration, quickly becoming diegetic. Chase writes the episode off as a migraine. Chase cleans up the musk under his armpits, then drops his pants to clean under his tail….

Chase returns to the table embarrassed, passing TJ on the way. Chase makes conversation with Jenna, and learns about Carl’s party tomorrow. Jenna lets slip the Tj wanted to see Chase the most during their trip back home. Jenna shows Chase a stick figure recreation of the prank that TJ had drawn, before heading out back to the motel to grab her purse. Tj returns to the booth.

Chase tries to explain the situation and Tj says its fine… even saying it was kind of cute.Come Over starts to play. Chase ribs Tj, playing gay chicken with the lynx… thrilled to be doing it with a guy again, let alone Tj. Their eyes meet again, and Tj smiles.

Another dream sequence…

Leo is driving Chase’s car on top of the lake, ‘shooting’ Chase with a finger gun from across the water. Tj swims after the car…

The dream sequence CUTS, with NO fade or dissolve, something very peculiar for the novel. Something intentional (IMO). A new track, ‘Unease’ plays, distinct from other Dream Sequence tracks or events. The background is Echo Canyon, now black and white, labeled ‘canyoneg’. Tj is lying at the floor of the canyon, maggots eating him. A paw reaches towards the lynx… 

The dream fades back to the lake, unease still plays. Six bodies float in the water.

Chase knows something isn’t right. A tool-shed sits on the edge of the lake, one that doesn’t exist. It opens, and the scene cuts…

--

Okay, a LOT happens with this one. We get our usual dream sequence intro, with everyone doing weird shit on the lake as usual. BUT, this dream is interrupted. By a different force than usual, something showing Chase new kinds of nightmares. The lack of fadein is EXTREMELY noticible, especially when 99% of transitions has them. Some new entity has hijacked the dream. Something connected to the maggots from earlier... the ‘thing’ that is narrating FOR Chase. Something that isn’t Sam. The ominious paw is concerning and something we’re not super familiar with. It’s to vague to speculate on, even with TSR ghosts (as an addage not a planned explanation)

Six bodies, for six fiends (Carl, Leo, Tj, Flynn, Jenna, Sydney) on the lake. As if the entity is telling Chase that he SHOULD kill his friends. This is how ~I~ read it, but we know there’s been many other drownings related to the lake, but the number lines up to noticeably for me. There’s also the case of the shed... WHAT does that mean? The only other shed we get mention of that I can remember is Chase’s grandfather’s shed (which WAS a peculiar mention), or somehow foreshadowing Janice’s eroded shed for the next day? It seems to specific for that. There’s also a shed in the LATEST TSR build... but they aren’t thematically linked at all really so I don’t want to discuss it. VERY VERY specific, for something that I can’t substantiate at this time. Maybe some more bits out of the remaining routes that I forgot will help fill us in?

One last thing is the ‘This isn’t right, this isn’t me. what is this?’ To ME, this reads like something has taken control of Sam’s nightmare powers. Before this line, I would have just called it normal foreshadowing dreams, but the part of ‘this isn’t me’, makes it sound like it usually is a ‘me’. It was pointed out that Sam is always refereed to as ‘you’ usually, but why would Chase say ‘this isn’t me’ in this circumstance? If he was lucid dreaming, enough to say a line like this, it would have been ‘This isn’t normal?’. The rest of the lake based dreams are definitely ‘normal’ for the otter. But the lack of chains, introduction of maggots as a motif, and unknown presence appearing on the scene before cutting IS new. These are things I missed/forgot when I shotgunned this route AND Flynn’s route on the same day for sure... and raided till 2am right after, completely frying my already fried brain so...

Jenna and Chase discuss going to Carl’s as Tj showers. Tj finishes, and rushes to grab his shirt that he had forgotten, before running back into the bathroom embarrassed to finish dressing. En route to Carl’s house, the scene with Janice plays out the same…

We cut to Carl’s house, the ram unable to be found. Flynn is cursing as usual… but Chase asks him to stop. Leo boosts Jenna into the window again, and she unlocks the door for them. While Flynn searches for Carl, Chase and Tj discuss going to Janice’s later. Tj decides he wants to make sure she’s okay, and Chase agrees to go along. Chase recalls ditching Tj at Duke’s place while him and Carl got junk to build the ram’s tree-house. Chase comments on the bullying stemming from being two years older than Tj. Chase is sent to search outside while Tj is sent to search in the basement... definitely enough time to plant the the scavenger hunt...

Chase walks back inside after some reminiscing and…

Followed by Jenna walking by, indicating it wasn’t her orange tail walking down the stairs.

Presumably John? Showing that he isn’t always attached to Jenna? The children probably wouldn’t have a ‘fat’ tail... but that begs the question. Why is the tail orange? The only orange foxes important to the universe are the Byrnes (who would have maybe existed, at least in concept, by this point), but why would any of them be here. Is this a simple case of the writer going ‘oh fox tail, orange!’, forgetting the blonde/yellow complexion of the Begays?

--

In the basement, Chase walks into Flynn talking to Tj. Flynn apologies for sending something, presumably a text, to Tj yesterday. Flynn holds Tj by his shoulder, dropping his paw once he notices Chase step into the room. Flynn walks out of the room without a word, and Tj frantically grooms himself in front of a mirror. Chase tries to comfort Tj, but the lynx is to frazzled to talk about it. Chase offers to go out and walk with Tj around town to look for Carl, and the two head out.

The two talk about school, Tj going in depth about his schooling as an athletic trainer, and how he’s enjoying it and sports in general. Chase receives a text from Leo, stating they found Carl and that the party is cancelled because Carl isn’t feeling well. The two debate on going to Janice’s. Chase is worried she’s tripping on something while Tj argues she doesn't use drugs… Tj guilt trips Chase to going with cuteness and the two head over to Janice’s.

The two make it to Janice’s house. The coyote is completely nonchalant, as if not remembering the incident at all. She tasks the boys with removing a mass of weeds and moving firewood, promising refreshments and cookies for the two. Chase contemplates leaving, before Tj soaks himself with hose water and offers it to Chase. Chase soaks himself and the two get to work. Come Over starts to play.

Leo texts Chase asking where he’s at, and once Chase tells him, Leo doesn’t respond anymore. Chase takes off his shirt due to the heat and teases Tj with the ‘show’. The two make plans to go to the diner in the evening, but are interrupted by Tj spotting a tarantula in the weeds.

Janice comes outside due to the two boys screaming. She admires their twink bodies, causing Tj to become flustered. The two get back to work but are unable to find the tarantula again. After finishing, Tj offers some sports medicine advice to Chase, rubbing one of the otter’s tense muscles… after a promise for a full massage later, the two start on the pile of wood.

I’m not sure how to read Tj seeing a phantom tarantula. I’m assuming it signals that he went through some kind of flashback/dream sequence like Chase does in a bit upon seeing the spider. As it is most likely he’s already setup the Scavenger hunt earlier in the day, I don’t think this is Sydney a possessive Echo taking it’s roots in him. Maybe this is just the simpler explanation of Spiders representing guilt. Janice sure has a lot of guilt built up (rip Sam), and the spiders coalescing around her and the center of town makes sense. Chase AND Tj are both feeling really guilty to, maybe it’s just that simple explanation.

Chase comments on Tj faking the tarantula, saying how it’s stressed him out. As Tj returns from Janice’s house with a plate of cookies, Chase sprays him with a water hose. A new track, “Tj Theme’, starts to play. Chase is callous and carefree, eating the cookies and openly flirting with TJ… who is reserved and anxious as the upbeat tempo track continues to play in the background. The two continue working, Tj feeling worse and worse as the day continues. The track continues to play... The two continue their spider-infested laborin the gayest-twinkiest way ever, but make short work of the pile. Chase offers to go hiking tomorrow, trying to invite everyone.

Tj’s Theme being Chase completely overstepping any semblance of his feelings and being a creeper really fucking sets the mood for the theme of route......

The pair are about to plan it out, when on the last plank of wood, only for Chase to see a tarantula on the backside of it. The music finally cuts. Chase passes out and we’re met with a dream/flashback…

Sydney, a blue eyed otter, is talking to Chase. Both of them are young children. Sydney starts rough-house playing with Tj, the lynx losing on purpose to get out of it. Sydney starts to strangle Tj with the lynx;s shirt. Chase yells out ‘STOP’, before his view shifts to the present.

--

I will say. The absolute jaw-drop of Sydney being an otter, and HOW MUCH that calls into question him drowning completely missed me the first time through...

--

Chase wakes up from him passing out, puking up the snacks. Tj pulls Chase inside to cool off, where the Lynx agrees to more manual labor.

The two walk back towards the diner, arguing on the way. Upon arriving at the diner, an old friend takes their order. Julian, a white deer, catches up with the two. Chase stays out of the conversation, glad when Julian eventually leaves. Tj is upset that Chase called him Toby after waking up from the dream sequence, but doesn’t press the issue. Bittersweet starts to play as Chase realizes how he’s made TJ uncomfortable.

FURSONA

Chase asks Tj if he wants to try and find closure about Sydney. He wants to go to the lake with everyone except Flynn and talk about it. Chase confirms that Tj didn’t see the tarantula that caused him to pass out…

We’re met with another dream/flashback where Chase bullies Sydney for bullying Tj… Almost like it’s a cycle of abuse or something...

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

That concludes Tj up until Wednesday. Thank you everyone for taking the time to read and interacting <3 Some very... interesting stuff is being done here. Howly, the author, is really getting into using the medium to its fullest potential, and we’ll see more of that as we continue on.

Next Weeks Reading Assignment is just TJ’s Thursday! End on this line:

"He runs up the road and back toward town, disappearing into the bright sunset."

Or this Day Card:

#zombie book club #furry visual novel book club #echo vn #echovn #echo project #echoproject #echo visual novel #echovisualnovel

[127luvr]

La La Love

Na Jaemin x Male Reader

In which Jaemin has a day off and decides to cram three dates into one

It’s an early dinner.

Barely half past five when the two of you finally set down your silverware as a sign that you were done. Still, it was a good break from all the walking and shopping you had gotten done earlier in the day. Exchanging gifts with Jaemin and dressing him up in all of the clothes you wanted—it was fun. You missed being able to be a normal couple—not worried about being recognized in public—or having to wait until his promotions and tour were over.

Jaemin was worth it.

Worth the months of waiting and longing. Worth the sleepless nights and lonely mornings wrapped in bedsheets that no longer smelled like his cologne from consistent washing. Worth the short phone calls and late replies to your messages. He was always grateful for your understanding nature—always apologetic when he finally had time to see you and have proper conversations about everything and nothing. It’s why he insisted on going out today.

“You’re not tired?” You slide your hand across the table, avoiding the drinks in the way as you place it on top of Jaemin’s closed fist. He relaxes his hand, turning it over to intertwine his fingers with yours. You let a small smile tug on your lips as you feel the heat radiate from him. He replies by shaking his head, squeezing your hand firmly. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

“Amusement park?” There’s a small grimace that covers your face for a split second—the thought of having to walk around again and feel obligated to get on rides with Jaemin left a funny feeling in your stomach. You thought he didn’t catch it—that he catches the smile you keep on your face as you nod enthusiastically. But he knows you better than that. He knows that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes when you’re not being genuine. “We don’t have to get on the rides or do anything too tiring. I was thinking that we play the games in the booth things and buy an overpriced funnel cake. Go home and crash, you know?”

“I’d like that a lot, Jaem.”

It was clear from the beginning how much Jaemin had planned for today. He knew which store to stop at for you when you went shopping. He knew just the route to walk to get free samples and just the drive to take when going to your favorite restaurant. What he didn’t plan was how invested he was in playing the booth games that were along the outside of the amusement park you frequented.

You watched as he shifted his posture, balancing the basketball in his right hand while squinting his eyes. He was at the final hoop—the tallest one along the end. You lost count of how many shots he had taken—how many small plushies he had won for you but he wouldn’t quit until he had gotten you the biggest one they had. You share a look with the employee, arms full of the bears Jaemin got for you from every booth there was. Finally, you see him take the shot—eyes wide with disbelief as it hits the net, barely missing the hoop. You shake your head at him lightheartedly, turning the ends of your lips down to greet him with a silly face.

“One more try.”

“Jaemin, do you even have more ca—” Before he lets you finish he’s already grabbing another ball, handing the employee one too many bills before absolutely winging it. He’s confident this time—full lips slightly parted and feet shoulder width apart when he makes it in. He turns to look at you, crazed eyes wide with excitement when he runs towards you. His arms bulge out of his shirt as he lifts you up to spin you. You make sure to tighten your grip on the plushies in your arms so none of them fell to the floor. “I love you so much.”

Jaemin carries your plushies the rest of the night, leaving you with the big bunny he won for you.

The two of you end up at a lonely food stall, sharing a plate of dessert that was long forgotten as you let Jaemin talk your ear off about his favorite stop. You loved hearing him ramble about his members—his thoughts—his favorite songs at the moment. Moments like these were the ones you loved looking back on when he was gone.

Calming, intimate and comfortable.

#TO MY LOVELY ANON IM SORRY IT DELETED 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #IM SO SAD I HAD IT ALL READY AND EVERYTHING. I WANT TO SAY YOUR ENGLISH/GRAMMAR WAS PERFECT #i hope you still get to see this ☹️ #i love you #na jaemin #jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct u #jaemin x male reader #nct x male reader #nct u x male reader #nct dream x male reader #<3 #I CANT EVEN GO BACK TO REFERENCE WHAT THEY WANTED SPECIFIALLY IM SORRY IF I GO WAY OFF THE REQUEST 😭😭😭😭

[humaudrey]

In the comics, we see that the Powerpunk Girls are created in an alternate universe by Oppressor Plutonium.

And while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, I'd like to propose another idea that does away with the alternate universe route to keep things simple by giving them a creator who exists in the Powerpuff's universe.

My suggestion? Dick Hardly. He's one of the few scientists that manages to get his hands on Chemical X and due to his ineptitude, him accidentally creating the Powerpunk Girls could be plausible (plus he was already making counterfeit Powerpuffs for hire/profit).

I just imagine him in his office or whatever, cleaning his desk (maybe to impress a woman), and he hurriedly throws away some salt packets, a half empty, expired bottle of vinegar, and every other vulgar thing he'd might have lying around. Maybe a glass vial of Chemical X falls out of his lab coat and into the trash can and then BOOM! The Powerpunk Girls are born!

But he hates them! They're nothing like the originals, they're mean, selfish, rebellious, with a dangerous destructive tendency, and he has no problem reminding them about their failures, that they're failures. They're toxic assets ("At least the rejects are obedient"), but he needs the muscle so he keeps them around as his lackeys. The Powerpunks hate the comparisons, and their resentment toward the Powerpuffs begins to form, as well as their weird, complicated relationship with their...boss. Sure, they can't stand him either but it'd be nice if they were treated with some respect as individuals of their own right.

They witness Professor Utonium pleading with Dick to let his girls go from afar. Before anything can be done, Dick meets his demise (or does he? 😉) while the Powerpuffs get their perfect, happy ending. This leaves the Powerpunks wanting closure, leaving their thoughts on Dick to be even more convoluted. Are they angry that the Powerpuffs ultimately caused the death of their father or are they angry that the Powerpuffs beat them to it? Not even they know.

They flee from Townsville, away from anything related to Dick or those girls, living a carefree, crime ridden, crazy life of their own. Years later, they're approached by a certain someone who hates the Powerpuffs just as much as they do and are in the market for three new superpowered siblings with a insatiable appetite for destruction, since the last trio before them defied him.

#this might be an idea i have for a fic so teehee #the powerpuff girls #ppg #the powerpunk girls #dick hardly #him #the rowdyruff boys #rrb #cleaning out my drafts

[naivesilver]

PLEASE can I have Lampwick + Leroy for one of the prompts on the noticing trauma meme 🥺

STAB RIGHT IN THE FEELINGS TIME

Noticing Trauma Prompts

“Hey.” 

Leroy only notices that Lampwick's hurt because the kid won't stop bleeding onto his rope.

The scratch is not the problem, per se. Tending to a boat is rough work; Leroy himself has the scabs and calluses to prove that fact, if anyone were of a mind to question it, which he doubts would ever happen. And honestly, he's not that mad about the bloodstains, either - they'll wash off in a flash, and even if they don't, well, it's not like his precious sea lady was completely shiny and pristine to begin with. It'd survive that, too.

No, the issue is that despite the three or four inches long gash on his arm, Lampwick is still utterly focused on untangling the mess of fishing nets on his lap, sawing at the fraying meshes as though his life depended on it.

"What the hell, kid," Leroy grumbles, putting down his own tools. He marches over to the boy and snatches the knife out of his hands perhaps a tad more gruffly than necessary. "You blind or something?"

"Hey!" Lampwick protests, looking up immediately, but there is something more than the outrage the dwarf had expected in his eyes, a wary reticence that is more than a little surprising. "What was that about?"

In response, Leroy points an accusing finger at the scratch. "That's what it's about. How'd you not notice?"

The realization hits him rights as the words leave his mouth, because the surprised glance Lampwick turns to his own wound is too knowledgeable, too deliberate to be genuine. The boy did notice, that's how it went. He just didn't think it was worth getting up to patch it up, like as not.

"Uh, alright," he says, far too casually, unaware of Leroy's turmoil. "Don't worry, I'll clean up when I'm done here. Maybe it'll lure some sharks in, though. They make soup out of them in some places, did you know that?"

"You think my problem's the damn blood?" The dwarf all but growls, and reaches out to take his hand. "Do you have any idea how much dirty crap I've got lying around here? You've got to clean it up and cover it, before-"

He cuts himself off, stunned, as Lampwick snatches the arm away, an instinctive flinch more than anything else. "I told you, it's fine," he insists, the guarded look even clearer on his face for the split second where he dares to meet Leroy's gaze before he glances to the side. "It's nothing. I can still work. Don't worry about it."

Leroy watches him, really watches him for a few seconds, swallowing the reprimands already on his tongue. His first instinct would be to scold the kid and tell him not to be an idiot, but he doesn't see that route ending anywhere good, if he's honest with himself. This is not one of his brothers, slicing their thumbs because they were too busy fooling around to do anything carefully.

This is...well, a kid, brooding and unpredictable as you please, and not even a normal one at that - a kid who's not Leroy's and yet is the next best thing, and who still won't say how he got half the scars littering his back and flank. A kid who's currently very, very intent on not looking him in the eyes, though it's clear he regrets not having a knife to fidget with, his fingers tense and restless.

Leroy crouches down slowly, almost eye level with the boy, who's too bloody tall even when sitting on the ground. "Hey," he ventures, trying to keep his voice even. "Kid. Look at me."

Lampwick doesn't do so immediately, but after a moment it must seem clear that the dwarf before him isn't going anywhere, so soon enough he's staring up at Leroy hesitantly, somewhat suspiciously. "What?" He mutters, heavy with mistrust.

"You think I'm going to toss you into the bin when you get damaged? Because that's not going to happen. I like having you around. Most days, anyway. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

It's almost painfully evident that Lampwick wants to believe what he's hearing, and yet he doesn't relent just yet, his brow still furrowed. "But you said we had to fix these nets today," he objects, lamely.

"Yeah, well, that can wait," Leroy replies, fitting an hand under the boy's arm and hoisting him to his feet, doing his best to ignore the wave of relief he feels when Lampwick stands up without another word of protest.

"I'd rather fix you first, brat. Then, we'll see."

#bewilderedmoth #ask meme #fanfic #thousand problems verse #lampwickcore #ouat #best dad choice I ever made #if I say so myself

[tapedecking]

MIXTAPE #1 (25/07/22)

The Universal - Blur

Album: The Great Escape

Year: 1995

Track: Single (Post-Release: 1995)

The song everyone in the UK probably only associates with the British Gas adverts. The Great Escape was one of two albums I listened to on the 24 hour flight to Australia - I would have listened to more, but without something to look at besides the darkened inside of a cabin, I think I would have descended into madness. It seemed like a natural going-on-holiday album, and like most Blur albums, it’s consistently pleasant and harmless, but this track stands head and shoulders above the rest of the album to me - it’s so carefree and positive and to me, it is a perfect holiday track.

-

We Go On - The Avalanches

Album: The Great Escape

Year: 2020

Track: Single (Post-Release: 2021)

We Will Always Love You was the second album I listened to en route to Australia, because hey! It’s The Avalanches, one of the most notable Australian musical acts outside of Men at Work! It was a great album, and very fun thanks to its eclectic range of guest stars. For example, this track - the track that was most stuck in my head after the flight - features California disco artist Cola Boyy, as well as Mick Jones, guitarist for The Clash. After arriving in Australia, I also managed to come across a limited edition electric blue coloured vinyl release in the clearance section of a JB Hi-Fi - I would have picked it up, but I didn’t believe it would survive the journey home.

-

Nightclubbing - Iggy Pop

Album: The Idiot

Year: 1977

Track: Album Track

Jet-lagged and not yet adjusted to Australian time zones, I listened to this album whilst doing a 1000-piece jigsaw at 5am when I couldn’t sleep one night. Seeing as I had already listened to the other 1977 album released by Iggy Pop and produced by David Bowie - Lust For Life, I figured I’d complete the set. This track was the standout, but I had heard it before, in the Westworld episode “Genre”. In the episode, Aaron Paul’s character, Caleb, takes the titular genre drug and begins seeing life through the lense of various - get this - film genres. One such film lens features Nightclubbing as a soundtrack, in reference to the film Trainspotting. Like much of Westworld, the genre drug was a fascinating idea that was completely half-arsed and pissed away by the consistently disappointing series.

-

Strange Overtones - David Byrne & Brian Eno

Album: Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

Year: 2008

Track: Single (Pre-Release: 2008)

I love finding works - albums, singles, compilation contributions, whatever - from popular artists I like, that are a bit lesser known. When it comes to David Byrne, everyone knows Talking Heads, especially ‘77 and Remain In Light, but less people know about this 2008 collaboration with Brian Eno. After finding the album flicking through Spotify (and being drawn in by its simple yet striking cover featuring an isometric red house), I listened to this album whilst isolating with my girlfriend in her basement. We had both tested positive for covid a few days prior, and so she was forced to work via zoom, which in turn meant that I was forced to sit quietly in the corner until she was done! This track was the stand out of the album, and I feel proves my music taste to be based, to anyone out there still unsure.

-

Perfect Day - Harry Nilsson

Album: Knnillssonn

Year: 1977

Track: B-Side to “Who Done It?” (Release Unsure: 1977)

[BETTER CALL SAUL SEASON SIX SPOILERS AHEAD]

I didn’t watch Breaking Bad as it aired, the unrelenting hype and worship ruined the idea for me. I caught up with the show years later, in 2020, before following by watching through Better Call Saul - the fifth season had just concluded airing. Despite the acclaim, both shows to me were good, not great. Interesting and watchable, but nothing extraordinary. So when I realised that the sixth season had began airing (three episodes in), I figured I’d watch along. I caught up on the episodes I had missed, and after Nacho’s death, I was hooked. Something had finally clicked with me - the pacing was better, the stakes were real, and for once I was actually uncertain and interested to find out as to where the show would go next. The wait between episodes, even when only a week, feels like decades, and I spend the time inbetween so unbelievably excited for the next installment, and when I can finally watch it, it feels like an event - the lights have to be off, everything else has to be quiet, all my focus goes into the show. It’s silly, I know it is, but it’s nice to have something I can enjoy so much. The most recent episode as of writing, “Fun and Games”, began with such a compelling, heartbreaking and haunting sequence: Jimmy and Kim going through their day, pretending like everything that had happened the night before - Howard’s tragic death, everything with Lalo and Mike - had never happened. And it was all set to a cover of this song - this beautiful, unashamedly sweet song.

-

Suzy - Caravan Palace

Album: Caravan Palace

Year: 2008

Track: Single (Post-Release: 2009)

After an early wake-up and an hour-long bus ride, my girlfriend and I managed to make it to Luna Park, an amusement park she was eager to show me around, and I was eager to be shown around. Before that, however, we had to wait in line to get our wristbands, alongside a million snot-nosed rugrats. Luckily for us, arguably, Luna Park had entertainers at the ready to keep the brats occupied, and deployed what could only be described as a troupe of homosexual slendermen. Dressed in colourful morph suits and clashing waistcoats, the faceless freaks began dancing and waving and soliciting high-fives, all set to this fittingly kooky but undeniably fun electro swing number. As an aside, I think this track would make a great backdrop for a fight scene in a superhero show.

-

The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song [Extended Version] - The Flaming Lips

Album: At War With The Mystics

Year: 2006

Track: Bonus Track

Back in November, my girlfriend and I went rummaging through a secondhand record and CD shop in Greenwich, and I managed to pick up, for 25p, the special edition of this album, featuring a bonus disk with dozens of bonus tracks, radio sessions and music videos. Unfortunately, this bonus disk was in a DVD-audio format, and I have yet to find anything in my house that will play it… But interestingly (if you're a nerd like myself), the first disk, the CD containing the actual album, features this extended mix of the song in place of the original version, and the extended mix was merely an iTunes-exclusive bonus track. This track recently reentered my thoughts when my girlfriend added it to our picnic playlist. We had put one together as something to do whilst isolating, as going for walks to the park together was one of the few things we could do.

#music #playlist #spotify #blur #the avalanches #cola boyy #mick jones #the clash #iggy pop #david bowie #david byrne #brian eno #harry nilsson #caravan palace #the flaming lips #australia #westworld #better call saul #luna park

[whumperfultime]

Whumpril 2024 Day 7: Hesitation

@whumpril

Contains: Emotional whump/angst, guilt, platonic comfort, and mentions of gunshot wounds, infection, fever, blood and near character death

~

Kalei was finishing preparing dinner when Dace emerged from her bedroom. As usual, he left the door open a crack, just wide enough that they could hear Matago if he called for them or needed anything. It had become routine over the past few weeks.

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

“Seems to be doing well,” Dace replied, keeping his voice low. “Still no fever and the wound itself is healing nicely. He’s trying to get some sleep right now.”

He and Kalei sat down at the small kitchen table, beginning to serve themselves dinner. It was a relief to know that Matago was doing well, but Kalei still kept half her attention on that slightly open door. It felt like any minute, something could go wrong again.

Matago should never have gotten hurt. The three of them had gone through a dry spell between jobs and Kalei had gotten restless. She chose a simple retrieval job for one of their regular clients, the sort of thing that should have been a breeze. But the goddamn restlessness and desire to get paid got the better of her and she didn’t plan carefully enough. They were too rushed. Too careless.

When they were attempting to sneak away from the storage facility with their stolen goods, a security guard spotted them and opened fire. Matago got hit in his right side.

They barely got him to the hospital in time, but by some miracle he survived. They spent most of the client’s payment on the medical bills. And just after Matago was discharged, he ended up back in the hospital a few days later…the wound had become infected.

Even though Dace and Matago already lived together, meaning he wouldn’t be alone when he was discharged again, Kalei insisted that the two stay at her apartment for a while for her own peace of mind. She’d given him her bedroom for the time being and she and Dace took turns sleeping on the couch or the living room floor. They also took turns checking up on Matago as he recovered, bringing him meals and water and medicine and checking up on how the wound was healing.

It seemed to be going fine so far, but Kalei still couldn’t shake the anxiety. The greatest relief came from mealtimes when she was able to focus on cooking. It was a ritual that always relaxed her. Dace was pretty good at distracting her, too.

“So,” Dace said as they began to eat, “I’ve been asking around the area to try and find out if there are any job opportunities here in Acora.”

Kalei raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I found a few to consider. I know a guy who knows a smuggler who wants to get some stolen Ezanuan artifacts back to their home territory. They’re set to go to that new museum opening up west, but the two of us could probably grab them when they’re in transit. Or we could move some stripped parts for Lyra, since they’ve been catching heat lately. And there’s always the option of doing a quick in and out in one of those mansions on the north side, or at the very least casing them.”

All local and all technically doable. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea right now.”

“Why not?”

“There’s only two of us.”

Dace scoffed. “Those are all jobs we could probably do in our sleep at this point. And since they’re all in Acora, we don’t even have to worry about needing a pilot. If you want extra help to cover for Matago’s absence, I’m sure there are some people we could ask-”

“It sounds too risky. I don’t want to rush into anything.”

Instead of challenging her further, Dace paused. Even with her gaze fixed on the surface of the kitchen table, she could feel him staring at her. She tried to ignore the feeling only for him to ask, “You’re still blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

Kalei wanted to argue. To snap back at him, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. But instead she sighed and hunched forward. “I didn’t pay enough attention to the security patrol routes. If I had, Mat probably wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“You know he doesn’t blame you.”

“Well, I do.” Kalei dropped her fork and crossed her arms over her chest. It was so unlike her to rush into a job, even when business was slow. Caution and careful planning were what got her this far so why the hell had she overlooked such important details?

“There’s always a risk of things going wrong. That comes with the job.”

When Kalei answered, her voice was quieter. “He almost died.”

The memories of the past several weeks flashed through her mind. The gunshots ringing out as they ran for the ship. Matago going down with a strangled cry of pain, blood staining his jumpsuit. The hours and hours spent waiting for updates from the doctors at the hospital, all the while keeping an eye out for police who might be looking for them. The blazing fever that woke him up in the middle of the night and Dace frantically sending a message to Kalei saying he was sick.

And all of it was her fault.

Dace sighed, trying to figure out the best way to respond, while Kalei struggled to hold back the few tears trying to push their way out. She could almost still feel the sensation of Matago’s blood coating her hands as she and Dace performed first aid on the way to the hospital.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he finally said. “We all know there’s danger going into a job. We all know we could get arrested, or hurt, or worse. We could spend years trying to plan the perfect mission, keep track of every imaginable detail, and there’s still a chance of something going wrong. That chance hit us last time. And you don’t deserve to put all on the responsibility on yourself when there’s always gonna be factors outside our control.”

Kalei forced herself not to immediately argue. Dace wasn’t wrong – some of her most meticulous plans had fallen through in the past, though thankfully the consequences hadn’t been as severe. “I just…I feel like I should have done more to prevent it.”

“You did what you could and that’s enough. Plus you made sure we got him to the hospital in time. Hell, you’ve given up your bedroom for the past several days just to make sure he’s comfortable and taken care of.”

The guilt didn’t go away entirely, but each of Dace’s words chipped away at it, making it lighter. It was enough for her to think more clearly. “I know it’s been a while since we worked, and I know that under different circumstances the two of us could pull those jobs off, but it’s not the right time. I can’t keep myself calm and focused enough to lead. And it doesn’t feel right without Mat.”

Rather than challenging her, Dace seemed to relax, nodding in understanding. “That’s okay. We can wait as long as we have to. But I will annoy you until you stop beating yourself up.”

She actually laughed at that. The weight was even lighter. “Fair enough.”

#my writing #ocs: the crew #whumpril2024 #whumprilday7 #emotional whump #guilt #shot #infection #blood #recovery #comfort

[veebs-hates-video-games]

I think maybe I'm going to try to figure out how to do a post about both The House in Fata Morgana and Chaos;Head Noah simultaneously, because I just finished both recently and they're both horror VNs, but one of them succeeds at what it's trying to do a lot better than the other.

Spoilers: The House in Fata Morgana is consistently great, while Chaos;Head Noah is frequently pretty good, never amazing, and too often a bit of a disaster.

I think I'm going to start in kind of a weird place because it's what made me start comparing the two in the first place: the amount of time I had to spend skipping over dialogue I'd already seen. Well, that and they both have main characters who spend most/all of their time stuck in their house as they gradually deteriorate over time, which like they just like me fr.

With The House in Fata Morgana I started it about a year ago, took a break for like ten months when I stopped being able to read pretty much anything, and then finally went back to it and finished it last month-ish. I was maybe a third of the way through when I stalled on it, and by the time I came back I remember enough of the story to jump right back in but couldn't remember the structure of the VN or what any of my saves were for. Probably some of them were at the very sparse decision points, but I didn't want to load every single one of them again and try to figure it out.

I think it was probably after getting the very first ending that I tried to go back and start over to see if there was any new dialogue added or new decision points or ones I hadn't previously checked before. It seems like the skip button skips really fast, but oh no it does not. It was like half an hour of waiting to get to the first decision point (not counting the one at the very beginning), but I guess I made the same choice again and there was nothing new.

I kept skipping, and another half an hour went by before I made it back to where I'd stopped the original time almost a year earlier. Then I went back again and loaded the save from that previous decision, chose the other option, got like 500 words of new dialogue, still wasn't sure if that would affect anything later on, and got to skip through another entire half hour to get back to where I was and discover it does not have any effect.

Finally after 90 minutes of fast forwarding I was able to get on with the story and my life and the rest of it was great, but that was really not an awesome experience and I nearly gave up on it entirely. If I weren't bad at video games and had realized that it's almost totally linear and the decisions don't affect anything down the line that would've all been easily avoidable, and that's probably how it would've gone if I hadn't forgotten so much about how the game worked during that time. I'll keep that in mind next time I decide to have ADHD and various other health problems that prevent me from sticking with something until I'm done with it.

Chaos;Head Noah on the other hand requires that you spend at least as long as that, probably significantly longer, fast forwarding through stuff you've already seen, because it's part of the incredibly poorly thought out structure of the VN itself and not just a consequence of being a dumbass. I had been spoiled by mostly only playing stuff from the past five years or so recently and forgot how much it blows goats in some older VNs getting all the right flags set for certain events or routes. It would've taken even longer if I hadn't given up like three chapters into my second playthrough and just used a guide to get through everything as fast as possible, and I still had to waste at least a few hours just on the skip button.

This is quite frankly terrible. I get what they were going for with the gimmick and how stuff was laid out, but the different endings don't actually branch out until the end of chapter seven (out of ten) on average, and the stuff before that is 95% the same every time through. You also just have to kind of magically intuit several three way choices and correctly answer five yes/no questions to get onto each of the different routes (and for one of them way, way more than that), which you can sort of figure out some of it but a lot of it is just guessing and hoping for the best. This is in fact bullshit and does not respect my time, and in this case is a deliberate design decision and not just me being stupid like with the other one.

This one thing that I've already gone on for far too long about kind of sums up my experience with both of them. Most problems I had with The House (I don't know why I started shortening it to that, but I blame talking about it with @dragonsbutalsorabbits) were my fault or could've been avoided, while most problems I had with Chaos;Head were on purpose because someone (incorrectly) thought they were a good idea.

They both are full of characters who are completely a mess because of the things they've been through in their lives, often but not always deliberately inflicted on them by someone else for their own benefit. The character arcs in The House are much, much better fleshed out though, and anyone who recovers or is redeemed (or gets worse for that matter) gets a lot more development, and the end results feel a lot more earned.

Chaos;Head does that to some degree with some characters, but I wasn't entirely convinced by all of them. I actually am totally down with the main character being kind of a shitty person and the biggest loser in the world (and generally a parody of stereotypical imageboard otakus from the 00s) and don't need my protagonists to be good people or anything, but I feel like they didn't put that to as good use as I would've liked, and I was very not sold on stuff like the "secretly he was a Mary Sue all along" ending.

I feel they could've used it to actually say something a bit more beyond "this guy is a shitty person at least partly as a reaction to the shitty circumstances he was put in outside his control" (totally reasonable) and "maybe girls should be nice to incels because that would fix them (and also they might secretly be superheroes)" (uhh try again chief). It came close a few times, but they never really quite went anywhere else with it.

The House is in some ways the way more fantastical one of the two, but I found it a lot easier to suspend my disbelief for it. It doesn't pretend anything works like the real world does, but it has its own weird but consistent internal logic, and I never really felt myself questioning it. It serves the story, and the story is compelling enough to just go along with it.

Meanwhile Chaos;Head tries to be heavily grounded in the real world, with plenty of psychology and physics and other jargon thrown in to try to tie it in with real world concepts. Unfortunately the writer(s?) have next to zero understanding of how any of that stuff works, so it gets pretty silly pretty frequently. I'm not even going to get into it because I'd be here all day, but even as someone who dropped out of high school twice and only finished like a semester and half of university before dropping out of that too, I still know infinitely more about pretty much every single thing like that they tried to drag into their story and would exhaust the entire world's supply of Cinema Sins dings if I tried to point them all out. The short version is if you know even the absolute bare minimum about psychology or physics or anything like that you're going to have to pretend you don't and just roll with it.

I feel like I've been saying a lot of nice things about one of these and not very many about the other. Let's completely not even things out by saying that I think The House would've been better if it'd ended like ten minutes sooner at the fakeout credits and left some stuff implied at the end instead of actually showing any of it. I was still overall very happy with how things came together in the end, but I would've been even more happier if they'd had a tiny bit more restraint.

And, uh...what can I say nice about Chaos;Head? The first and last/true endings were kinda lame in my opinion (pretty much anything involving the main villains in any of the routes kept making me go "oh no has this secretly been stupid all along?"), but there were some genuinely interesting moments in some of the individual character endings, and I did actually like a decent amount of stuff in the main common route at times too. They did make a pretty interesting world, and some of the characters can be pretty interesting at times too, even if the overall package left something to be desired.

In the end I think The House in Fata Morgana might be the best/my favorite pure VN I've played/read in the past year (although if we count hybrid stuff I think I'd still put 13 Sentinels ahead of it), and Chaos;Head Noah is probably the worst that I enjoyed the least, even if it had its moments and was still ok enough that I finished all the routes. I look forward to one of these days going back to do the side stories for The House and moving on to the next game in the Science Adventure series, Steins;Gate, which I already know I like the characters and story of because the anime adaptation was great when I watched it like a decade ago. I might need a break to do other stuff for a while though, because this last one kind of burned me out.

#the house in fata morgana #chaos;head noah

[visualnovelzombie]

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 15

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER FREE discussion post for “Echo - TJ’s Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday”

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

We begin from the route split by following after Tj, who ran off after Flynn’s tirade. The music cuts and we’re left with the sound of the river. We’re met with three options.

The first two will set Chase’s mood for the next bit of dialogue while the third will lock us out of Tj’s route, which is something we haven’t seen before. 

>Leave him be…

Chase narrates that he’s “not exactly graceful with this sort of thing, especially with TJ.”, and then decides to go with the others, giving us the options for the other route choices but not TJ’s.

>Say Something…”

Chase tries to comfort the lynx, but Tj doesn’t respond.

Until Finally…

>Say Nothing…

Chase sits next to Tj and starts breaking twigs in half, eventually annoying Tj. 

Chase asks TJ if he wants to go eat, and he responds with a firm ‘No.’ Until Finally…

>Reconvergence

Tj is upset Flynn was so mean in front of everyone. Chase comments that Tj is clearly frazzled because the lynx has allowed his fur to stay unkempt even after sitting by himself for a while. Chase comments that Tj’s inability to express himself fully is part of what’s dragging the Lynx down so much. The two continue to discuss Flynn’s tirade

Chase speculates that Flynn is after ‘more than the truth’, and we learn Tj saw Sydney drown. Tj becomes angry at Flynn, because the gila hadn’t realized how much the event affected Tj himself. Tj wishes he could go back to the day, and that he isn’t mad he didn’t save Sydney, he knows he couldn’t have… hinting at wanting something else. Chase glosses over that he could have probably saved Sydney from drowning if he was there.

Chase wants to help Tj with what happened, but says he needs to come to terms with it himself first. We’re treated to a brief flashback of the scene… Flynn drags Chase into the water, and forces the otter to get Sydney while Jenna and Leo try to help where they can.

Tj expresses being upset again, which makes Chase angry at Flynn for hurting Tj so much. Come Over begins to play, as Chase reminds Tj about their planned hike. The two plan their hike and talk about what their plans for school, promising to meet up one more time before graduating. The two return to the group who have packed everything in the van already. Leo asks if Tj is fine and after a satisfactory answer, is done with the conversation and heads off to work after dropping everyone else off at the motel.

The remaining four spend a lazy afternoon together before coming back to discussing Flynn. Carl tries to defend the lizard but Tj hard pivots the conversation to ice cream. When asked what his favorite flavor is, Chase’s head buzzes and he’s unable to think of an answer, blurting out Vanilla after a few moments. Chase’s headache gets worse and he’s unable to continue the conversation, and closes his eyes.. Very particular things happen over the next few lines:

Chase wakes on the couch, after some time has passed, indicated by the fade in, to the room being dark, Tj and Jenna in bed, with Carl on the floor asleep.

The scene fades to black, indicating some more time has passed. Chase is in bed next to Tj and is staring at the door.

We’re then met with a dream sequence… Before going into it I would like to point out the two previous scenes both took places at different times, indicated by the fadeouts, and that they were (most likely) NOT dreams. They don’t have the track associated with dreams playing in them, and Chase doesn’t ‘wake up’ from them into this one, like we’ve seen on Carl’s and Leo’s routes. Just bits of time are hard cut by the writing.

 Tj is drinking alcohol by the lake. He starts to run away after hearing something, but is eventually pulled back into the lake by a chain. Chase tries to help… but is also chained to the lake.

Chase and Tj are on their hike, with Tj trying to comfort the boiling otter.

After a terrible and awkward attempt at playful flirting, the two continue on their hike. Chase calls into question his understanding of Tj’s sexuality, realizing the two have never discussed it, and how it might intersect with the lynx’s vague faith. We then this is INSANE lore tidbit.

Two hours pass by as the scene cuts, while Old Winds begins to play. Chase, struggling with the intensity of the hike, trips and falls. Tj soaks Chase with another water bottle, much to the otters continued annoyance. Tj is concerned for Chase because HE asked the otter out on the trip. After a bit of rest and… determination on where they should eat, the two continue to the peak of the trail. Tj soaks his shirt with water, showing off his fit form. Chase is … attracted to the sight.

The two make it the peak, resting on a stone bench at the top. Chase enjoys being alone with Tj like this… until a tarantula jumps in his lap.

Tj had pranked Chase with a plastic spider after Jenna insisted upon it. One microaggression later, the two enjoy a nice lunch and we’re treated with a CG

Chase takes off his shirt and the two accidentally touch paws while reaching for a bag of chips, sending Tj squirming off embarrassed. The two make awkward small talk while Tj fixes his fur. The two reminiscent on how they met, with Chase being a bit of bully in the story.

Chase heads off on his own for a second to get shots for his project. Drone begins to play, as some THING narrates FOR Chase inside his head… distinct from the entity at the beginning of the game, based off of its font. 

Chase either ignores or pays no attention to the entity and takes the shots he needs. Tj finds Chase taking the shots and comments on the otter’s body, making Chase question Tj more. Tj peers over the edge and we’re met with a Choice…

>Shove him.

The voice narrates Tj’s corpse lying at the bottom of the Canyon… and we’re given the other two options to choose from.

We’re given the option to only Grab him and do nothing…

>Grab him.

Chase scares Tj and the two end up flailing around away from the cliff, locked in each other’s arms for a few moments.

>Do nothing

Chase doesn’t want to actually scare him off they cliff so the two stand there for a few moments.

>Reconvergence:

The two try to yell inot the canyon, trying to get it to ‘echo’ back to them. The sad and nostalgic track, Canyon, begins to play.

The two comment on the quality of Echoes in Echo. Chase laments the town, while Tj wishes everyone could have come today. The two share an intimate moment for a second, until Tj gets a text message. It sours the Lynx’s mood, but he lies to Chase about it, the music cutting once the lie starts. The two head back home.

The two plan the rest of the trip, and tell Jenna to meet them at the diner for dinner. Upon arriving, Jenna remarks on Chase’s… ottery smell. Janice comes to take the groups order, happy to see the trio after they graduated. She also remarks on the mudslide musk in the area, blaming it on another patron. The coyote talks about needing to do some housework in a relatively polite conversation, resulting in Tj volunteering him and Chase for the job. After Jenna and Chase chide Tj for agreeing to the work, Jenna makes another musk comment towards Chase. The otter storms off to the bathroom to clean up in a fit of rage.

Chase tries to alleviate his headache by washing his face in the mirror… but it suddenly continues to worsen.

Chase sees a twisted reflection of himself in the mirror and becomes extremely disoriented. The non-diegetic music and sound effects is described IN text from Chase’s narration, quickly becoming diegetic. Chase writes the episode off as a migraine. Chase cleans up the musk under his armpits, then drops his pants to clean under his tail….

Chase returns to the table embarrassed, passing TJ on the way. Chase makes conversation with Jenna, and learns about Carl’s party tomorrow. Jenna lets slip the Tj wanted to see Chase the most during their trip back home. Jenna shows Chase a stick figure recreation of the prank that TJ had drawn , before heading out back to the motel to grab her purse. Tj returns to the booth.

Chase tries to explain the situation and Tj says its fine… even saying it was kind of cute.Come Over starts to play. Chase ribs Tj, playing gay chicken with the lynx… thrilled to be doing it with a guy again, let alone Tj. Their eyes meet again, and Tj smiles.

Another dream sequence…

Leo is driving Chase’s car on top of the lake, ‘shooting’ Chase with a finger gun from across the water. Tj swims after the car…

The dream sequence CUTS, with NO fade or dissolve, something very peculiar for the novel. Something intentional (IMO). A new track, ‘Unease’ plays, distinct from other Dream Sequence tracks or events. The background is Echo Canyon, now black and white, labeled ‘canyoneg’. Tj is lying at the floor of the canyon, maggots eating him. A paw reaches towards the lynx… 

The dream fades back to the lake, unease still plays. Six bodies float in the water.

Chase knows something isn’t right. A tool-shed sits on the edge of the lake, one that doesn’t exist. It opens, and the scene cuts…

Wednesday

Jenna and Chase discuss going to Carl’s as Tj showers. Tj finishes, and rushes to grab his shirt that he had forgotten, before running back into the bathroom embarrassed to finish dressing. En route to Carl’s house, the scene with Janice plays out the same…

We cut to Carl’s house, the ram unable to be found. Flynn is cursing as usual… but Chase asks him to stop. Leo boosts Jenna into the window again, and she unlocks the door for them. While Flynn searches for Carl, Chase and Tj discuss going to Janice’s later. Tj decides he wants to make sure she’s okay, and Chase agrees to go along. Chase recalls ditching Tj at Duke’s place while him and Carl got junk to build the ram’s tree-house. Chase comments on the bullying stemming from being two years older than Tj. Chase is sent to search outside while Tj is sent to search in the basement.

Chase walks back inside after some reminiscing and…

Followed by Jenna walking by, indicating it wasn’t her orange tail walking down the stairs.

In the basement, Chase walks into Flynn talking to Tj. Flynn apologies for sending something, presumably a text, to Tj yesterday. Flynn holds Tj by his shoulder, dropping his paw once he notices Chase step into the room. Flynn walks out of the room without a word, and Tj frantically grooms himself in front of a mirror. Chase tries to comfort Tj, but the lynx is to frazzled to talk about it. Chase offers to go out and walk with Tj around town to look for Carl, and the two head out.

The two talk about school, Tj going in depth about his schooling as an athletic trainer, and how he’s enjoying it and sports in general. Chase receives a text from Leo, stating they found Carl and that the party is cancelled because Carl isn’t feeling well. The two debate on going to Janice’s. Chase is worried she’s tripping on something while Tj argues she doesn't use drugs… Tj guilt trips Chase to going, with cuteness and the two head over to Janice’s.

The two make it to Janice’s house. The coyote is completely nonchalant, as if not remembering the incident at all. She tasks the boys with removing a mass of weeds and moving firewood, promising refreshments and cookies for the two. Chase contemplates leaving, before Tj soaks himself with hose water and offers it to Chase. Chase soaks himself and the two get to work. Come Over starts to play.

Leo texts Chase asking where he’s at, and once Chase tells him, Leo doesn’t respond anymore. Chase takes off his shirt due to the heat and teases Tj with the ‘show’. The two make plans to go to the diner in the evening, but are interrupted by Tj spotting a tarantula in the weeds.

Janice comes outside due to the two boys screaming. She admires their twink bodies, causing Tj to become flustered. The two get back to work but are unable to find the tarantula again. After finishing, Tj offers some sports medicine advice to Chase, rubbing one of the otter’s tense muscles… after a promise for a full massage later, the two start on the pile of wood.

Chase comments on Tj faking the tarantula, saying how it’s stressed him out. As Tj returns from Janice’s house with a plate of cookies, Chase sprays him with a water hose. A new track, “Tj Theme’, starts to play. Chase is callous and carefree, eating the cookies and openly flirting with TJ… who is reserved and anxious as the upbeat tempo track continues to play in the background. The two continue working, Tj feeling worse and worse as the day continues. The track continues to play... The two continue their spider-infested laborin the gayest-twinkiest way ever, but make short work of the pile. Chase offers to go hiking tomorrow, trying to invite everyone. The pair are about to plan it out, when on the last plank of wood, only for Chase to see a tarantula on the backside of it. The music finally cuts. Chase passes out and we’re met with a dream/flashback…

Sydney, a blue eyed otter, is talking to Chase. Both of them are young children. Sydney starts rough-house playing with Tj, the lynx losing on purpose to get out of it. Sydney starts to strangle Tj with the lynx;s shirt. Chase yells out ‘STOP’, before his view shifts to the present.

Chase wakes up from him passing out, puking up the snacks. Tj pulls Chase inside to cool off, where the Lynx agrees to more manual labor.

The two walk back towards the diner, arguing on the way. Upon arriving at the diner, an old friend takes their order. Julian, a white deer, catches up with the two. Chase stays out of the conversation, glad when Julian eventually leaves. Tj is upset that Chase called him Toby after waking up from the dream sequence, but doesn’t press the issue. Bittersweet starts to play as Chase realizes how he’s made TJ uncomfortable.

Chase asks Tj if he wants to try and find closure about Sydney. He wants to go to the lake with everyone except Flynn and talk about it. Chase confirms that Tj didn’t see the tarantula that caused him to pass out…

We’re met with another dream/flashback where Chase bullies Sydney for bullying Tj…

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

That concludes Tj up until Wednesday. Thank you everyone for taking the time to read and interacting <3 Some very... interesting stuff is being done here. Howly, the author, is really getting into using the medium to its fullest potential, and we’ll see more of that as we continue on.

Next Weeks Reading Assignment is just TJ’s Thursday! End on this line:

"He runs up the road and back toward town, disappearing into the bright sunset."

Or this Day Card:

#zombie book club #furry visual novel book club #echo vn #echovn #echo project #echoproject #echo visual novel #echovisualnovel

[chilledlesbian]

Lovestruck ending and trying to finish the routes I wanna keep but suddenly getting hit with the urge to read bloodbound again for Kamilah... Way to go brain!!

#kamilah sayeed my baby #she the queen #i have like half the beginning of three routes already done #but im switching between recording and screenshots #so yay #BUT KAMILAH #brain wouldn't let me not reread it again

[wonderfulwonderland]

Free and/or cheap indie otome games

Here’s a list of free and/or cheap indie otome games. They’re great to check out if you’re curious about otome games and don’t want to pay money to do so, and of course if you already know you like otome games, here are some recommendations!

These ones are still demos/uncompleted, but good:

7 Kingdoms: The Princess Problem: the MC is female, very customizable, and there are male and female romance options. Can also be played without romance. The premise is that delegates from 7 kingdoms come together on an island and over the course of 7 weeks make alliances, which can be romantic in nature or not. You take a quiz in the beginning which determines your country of origin, which then affects your stats. Conversations with others are vital for your reputation and also affect your stats, and you won’t be able to do certain things or pass events without sufficient stats. The romance is pretty solid too, and the cast of characters overall is fantastic. It’s a strategy and political game as much as it is a romance. It reminds me of Long Live the Queen, if you’ve played that. The demo is the first 3 weeks of the game, and I’m completely floored by how good it is. I can’t wait for the full game!

Andromeda Six: sci-fi visual novel. MC can be male/female/nonbinary and the love interests are male and female. Very fun adventure story set in space with a great cast of characters. Only about half of the episodes have been released so far (5 of I believe 10 episodes) and they’ve been really good! Romance is also optional. 

Some completed free games: 

Our Life: MC can be male/female/non-binary, love interest is one guy (though more to be added via DLC). Very heartwarming, slice of life story. Revolves around the MC growing up with the boy next door, and the game takes place over three summers at various stages in their lives. The MC is insanely customizable, and things you’ve said and done at various stages are remembered and often referenced or can affect certain things. Really just a lovely game that brings a smile to your face. Romance is optional too.

Cinderella Phenomenon: female MC with 5 male love interests (romance is mandatory, unless you feel like getting a bad ending). This is one of my fave games, I’ll try not to gush about it too much. The story take place in a kingdom where people are being cursed with fairytale curses, which are inversions of fairytale stories. The MC is a princess who gets cursed with the “Cinderella curse,” going from riches to rags. The other love interests all have a fairytale curse of some sort which you learn about in their routes. The MC is not customizable because she is a straight up jerk and some of the correct dialogue choices are being mean to people. This story has amazing character growth of the MC (and some of the love interests too). It has a fantastic cast of characters, who are memorable and lovable. It’s a great story and how things change in each of the routes is so interesting and well-executed. You should definitely play the routes in the recommended order!!!

Red-handed Robin: female MC, two male love interests (I don’t think romance is optional). Robin (the MC) has stolen some diamonds and is on a train out of town with her friend/bodyguard and encounters her friend from childhood who is now a detective. Will he catch on to her? Fun little story with some puzzles in each chapter (of which there are three). The main trio are great. 

Lake of Voices: female MC with male/female love interests, romance optional. A horror-ish game. Can you get across this spooky lake alive? Good luck with that. Once you manage to get across the lake, definitely replay it and see how else the story unfolds. It’s a cool story with intriguing characters and an interesting setting. It has absolutely beautiful art.

Dark Nights: female MC with four male love interests. Also horror-lite. Some of the people in your town have been disappearing. You encounter 4 strange men and wonder whether any of them might have answers as to what’s going on. Quite a fun game with pretty art! Very funny titles for the achievements, the creators definitely have a good sense of humor. 

A few cheap ones: 

Rose of Segunda ($8.99):  female MC with male and female love interests, romance is optional. Charming little story set in a kingdom whose prince is of the age to be married and everyone’s invited over for his birthday. Will you try to go after him (romantically or otherwise) or will you be interested in some of the other guests? The MC is somewhat customizable and can be quite funny. The characters are charming as well.  

Because We’re Here ($5.99 per act): female MC, male love interests (romance not really optional). Set in an WW1-era fictional universe. Seems like a bad idea to have romance during a war, huh? Prepare to for ALL the emotions. This one is only half completed (Act 1 and 2 of 4 planned). I’m looking forward to the other acts!!

Have fun! I checked out some of the free/indie ones before starting to actually buy some of the more popular/mainstream (but also more expensive) games. All of these games are great.

#game recommendations #otome games #otome #free otome games #indie otome games #7kpp #seven kingdoms #seven kingdoms the princess problem #andromeda six #a6 #our life #our life: beginnings & always #cinderella phenomenon #red-handed robin #lake of voices #dark nights #dark nights otome #the rose of segunda #because we're here

[noctumbra]

𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

summary ─ walking away from you had never felt this painful before, bucky realized.

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ angst, angst, more angst, crying, conversations, confessions, goodbye scene without the sex in it, happens a couple months after the graduation

a/n ─ so. technically this is the last part, but there will be an epilogue (i’m not sure about this. i might write and post one). until i post an epilogue, accept this as the final part. i'm hoping to write that very soon. after that, we will be done with this series. i hope you like it! @babyboibucky​ you asked for "more angst" and you're receiving with this part. blame her :d please leave a comment if you like it! thank youuu <333

series masterlist

Ever since the graduation, life was being really hard on Bucky.

He had been looking for a job and a place for himself for the last five months because he needed money and just couldn’t live with his parents: The house was too crowded, and they were too curious. It hadn’t been easy so far; Bucky had to dodge his mother’s ‘why are you still single’ questions all the while running from one job interview to another as well as meeting with a real estate agent for affordable apartments. He knew he couldn’t rent one until he got a job, but he wanted to cross it off his list.

Sighing, Bucky plopped on one of the first empty benches he saw.

The weather was hot as hell, and he was sweating like a pig in his suit. He could feel the shirt sticking to his back slowly. He was thirsty and hungry and tired; all he wanted to do was to go home, take a cold shower, eat something and sleep, but he couldn’t. He still had two interviews to get over.

“Fuck my life,” he whispered under his breath. Digging through the small bag he carried with him everywhere, he pulled out a bottle of water. It was half-empty, but it was better than nothing. He quickly drained it, wiped the slight sweat beading on his forehead and stood. If he stalled a bit longer, he was going to be late for his interview.

Just as he started walking, he felt his phone vibrate. Pulling it out, Bucky saw two messages from the interviewers. They were cancelled due to scheduling problems.

“Shit,” he hissed. He was both happy and sad; happy because he was going home instead of dragging himself all around New York, and sad because he was more likely to never hear for them again since those kinds of messages usually meant ‘we found someone already’. Cursing under his breath again, he changed his route. He had some money left, so he decided to get a sandwich from Subway. He really didn’t want to pass out on his way home, he couldn’t deal with that.

He was halfway to the nearest Subway when his phone vibrated again. It was a text from Sam.

we’re at lolly’s, it said. join us. been a while since i saw your ugly face. Bucky snorted as he shook his head. Lolly’s wasn’t so far away from where he was, probably as close as the Subway. He sent Sam a ‘on my way’ text and started walking.

Sam was right. It had been a while since he saw them. He was too busy chasing down job interviews that he couldn’t spare some time to his friends and night outs as much as he would like to. They were probably in the same rush since they didn’t reach out to him, and that was okay. Life was hard and messy and could get super busy super quick.

He sprinted as soon as he saw the diner. Using his long legs to run across the street, he walked inside panting lightly.

The place was buzzing. It wasn’t overly crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. There were families and students and friend groups all talking and eating at the same time. Laughter and chatting sounds were filling the small diner, and it was making the place look and sound all cozy.

His eyes danced on the people sitting in the booths until he found them. They were in their usual booth. Grinning, he made his way towards them.

“Oh, look it’s Barnes!” Sam grinned at Bucky. “Nice to see that you’re as ugly as before.” Bucky chuckled and hugged him.

“Shut up, Wilson, we both know you have a crush on me,” he said, making everyone on the table laugh. Bucky quickly hugged and greeted his other friends before he took a seat. “What are we having?” He asked, he was starving and was pretty sure that if he went without food a little bit longer, his stomach was going to go apeshit on him.

“We ordered greasy burgers as always,” Steve said, grinning. “Loki hates it.” Bucky saw Loki rolling his eyes, but he knew Loki was having fun. He smiled. “We ordered for you, too. It should be here any minute now.”

“Y’all are saints,” Bucky breathed in relief. The refusals and complaints immediately filled the small table, and Bucky laughed. He really missed his friends.

─

It was hours later when they left the diner with full bellies and laughter ringing in their ears. They ate and drunk and talked about what they have been doing since the graduation, how the life was treating them and all that jazz.

Bucky felt good when he heard that his friends, too, were going through the same things as he was. It felt nice to know that he wasn’t alone.

“I’m getting married,” Sam said as they stepped on the half-full sidewalk. All of them stopped suddenly, looking at each other with surprised etched on their faces.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Bucky asked. “You’re─ Really?” Sam nodded, grinning widely. “Holy shit, man, I didn’t even know you were datin’ with someone.” The others chuckled.

“I didn’t either,” Loki said. Bucky heard Steve agreeing with him.

“Well, we kept it pretty low-key,” Sam explained. “We’ve been dating for three years? Almost?” He shrugged. “It got serious in the last year. I proposed to her already and we’re gonna tell our parents as soon as I hear back from one of the interviews I gave around.”

Bucky smiled. “Wow,” he said. “I’m proud of you man,” he added quickly because he was. He really was proud of Sam. “Congrats.” Bucky threw his arms around him and patted his back a couple times. Sam smiled and murmured his thanks. As he stepped back and let the others hug Sam, Bucky couldn’t help but imagine if this would happen to him if he were to treat you like you deserved.

Would you marry him? Would you mind keeping him forever? He wanted to know. He felt like he knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear it from you. He wanted to know if he ever stood a chance, if you’d ever accept him like that. He was too much of an asshole, he knew, thank you very much, but Bucky also knew that he’d get his shit together for you. Maybe he wouldn’t in the beginning of your… relationship, but he would now. It was too late, though.

“We planned a summer wedding, but it really depends on the time that I’ll be hearing back from anyone,” Sam sighed. “’s gonna be alright,” he said. “We both know that.” Bucky smiled sadly. He wished he could say that, too.

“I’m happy for you, Wilson,” he said instead. Sam sent him a soft smile. Placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Bucky pulled him against his side. “Let’s go home.” The others all agreed, and they started walk down the sidewalk.

They were crossing the street when Bucky saw you.

You were across the street where he was going with your own friend group. You were laughing and looked so beautiful in that white dress, Bucky wanted to sob. He missed your face, missed seeing you laugh, he realized, and his heart gave a painful thud in its cage.

Clearing his throat, he crossed the street when the light turned green for them. His eyes never left you; they watched how you joked and laughed and grabbed your friend’s arm while you giggled… Bucky missed you so fucking much.

“Barnes?” Sam nudged him when they stepped off the road. “You alright?” Bucky nodded absently.

“Yeah,” he murmured. The need to be near you, the want to talk to you was about to consume Bucky, and he was aware that he was going to make an ass of himself, but he didn’t care. “Hey, why don’t guys go ahead? I’ll catch up.” Sam frowned. “It’s fine. I saw someone and wanted to tell them something, that’s it.” It wasn’t so convincing, Bucky knew, but thankfully, Sam didn’t say anything. He just nodded and walked the opposite way.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky marched on where you were standing with your friends. He wasn’t about to jump into the conversation, that would be rude. He was going to see if he would be able to catch your attention. As he stepped into your sight, he waved his hand. You were too into the conversation, you didn’t see him at first, but then a movement caught your eyes. Lifting your head, you saw Bucky and froze for a second.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Can you give me a minute?” You said to your friends, and they nodded, going back to their conversation right away. You went up to him.

“Hi,” he said, a little breathless because you looked so beautiful. You smiled softly.

“Hi,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but ask. He shrugged. Grabbing his bag tighter, he licked his lips.

“Was hanging out with the boys,” he said. You nodded slowly. “Then, I saw you and thought I could, y’know,” Bucky shrugged awkwardly. You nodded again. “You look beautiful,” he blurted.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured. Bucky’s heart made a flip as the oxygen got trapped in his throat.

You could have been together, Bucky thought. You could have been dating still, and this encounter wouldn’t be so awkward. Bucky wouldn’t feel like there were miles between you two while you were one of those people who knew him really well.

“Bucky?” You reached out and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

“You told me you loved me,” Bucky blurted out. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He wanted it out, out, out. He needed to get rid of it. He needed to tell you.

“ What?” You frowned.

“The night you got drunk and called me,” he explained. “You told me that you loved me, but you didn’t want to love me because it hurts you.” Bucky swallowed harshly. “You said you didn’t want to see me anymore because I just make you want to cry.” Sighing, Bucky tried to hold his tears back. “You─ You said that I never saw you as─ as a relationship material because you knew you weren’t enough.”

“Bucky─” You gasped.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me finish it. I─” Bucky took a deep breath. “I want you to know that you were enough,” he said, finally lifting his head up and looking at your eyes. They were full of tears already. “You were enough for me. You were more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t enough and didn’t deserve you. It─ It hurt like hell when I heard you say that you don’t want to love me anymore because it hurts you. I wanted to hurt myself for you because you didn’t deserve to be hurt.” He sniffed, trying to hold back tears was getting harder.

“Y/N,” Bucky said. “I want you to know that I love you. For real. This is no joke, there is no play, nothing. I just want you know that I love you so much. I told my friends about how I feel about you, and they didn’t believe. I don’t mind them not believing me, but I need you to believe me.” You felt tears rolling down on your cheeks gently as Bucky’s blue eyes bored into yours. The way he was looking at you felt like he was looking directly into your soul. You sobbed lightly.

“I treated you like shit,” Bucky murmured. “I know that. I’m so sorry. I made you feel like you weren’t enough when you were more than enough, and I hurt you. Because of me, you didn’t want to love, doesn’t matter who. You didn’t want to love, Y/N, because I was such a dick to you. I’m so sorry. I know no matter how many times I apologize, it’s not gonna undo all the damage, but I’m sorry. I truly am.” Bucky sighed deeply. “I should have told you that I love you long before. I shouldn’t have been such a coward about how I feel about you, I’m sorry for not acting on them before─”

With a sniff, you hugged him out of a sudden. Bucky backed a step and caught you immediately. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he hesitated only for a second before he pulled you in for a tight hug. You sobbed, face hidden in his neck as you held onto him. You missed him. You missed his body heat against yours, hearing his voice, feeling his arms around you… You missed him so much.

“Bucky,” you whispered when you pulled back just a little. You kissed him. Both of you had tears on your faces, but neither of you cared about it. Your tears-covered lips found each other. It wasn’t a filthy, passionate kiss, but a sweet, desperate and chaste one. You parted for oxygen and then leaned in to kiss him again. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed and lips close to his. “Bucky,” you whispered again, your hands were on each side of his face. “You knew how we were going to end up,” you murmured. You opened your eyes to look at his baby blue ones. “This is where we end.”

This was the first time you were seeing him this vulnerable, you thought as you watched his chin wobbled and tears spilling over his cheeks. He sniffed. He was nodding slowly.

He understood. He really did. He wasn’t good enough for you, he knew that, and he’d hate it if you were to settle down with someone who never truly deserved you. He loved you. You were his very first love, and everything was intense and strange to him, but he would get over it. He knew he had to. He just wanted you to be okay, wanted you to not hurt anymore, wanted you to love someone who was going to make you want to love.

So, he understood.

Nodding still, Bucky wrapped you up into another hug. He memorized how your body felt against his while hugging like this, how you held him, how you rested your head on his shoulder… He memorized all of it. With a sniff, he stepped back. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed one last time. He breathed in your sweet scent, felt your soft lips against his and pulled back.

“This is where we end,” he whispered, repeating your words. You nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. He kissed your forehead before he stepped back fully. “Take care of yourself, please?” He pleaded. “I want you to be happy, to love, just… Be happy, alright?” You nodded once.

“I promise,” you whispered back. “Only if you be gentle with yourself.” Bucky cracked a half-smile and nodded.

“I promise.” You smiled at him. Your hand reached to his hair, and you fixed the rebel strands. Bucky took your hand, placed a soft kiss into your palm and dropped it. “Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for loving me.”

You felt fresh tears licking your face, but you didn’t care. “Goodbye, Bucky. Thank you for loving me back.” Bucky pressed his lips together, looked at your for a second longer and turned around.

Walking away from you had never felt this painful before, Bucky realized. His feet were taking him away from you, but his heart was beating with you. It was screaming at him to go back and beg you to try once, but he wasn’t going to do that. You didn’t deserve that.

Bucky sighed. Nothing was going to make him feel as real as you did, he thought to himself. He was okay with it. He had to be okay with it.

So, Bucky walked away from you.

Once and for all.

─

After that, after you, Bucky never loved anyone ever. His heart belonged only to you.

#bucky barnes x reader #fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #fuckboy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #echoes of silence

[aminiatureworld]

Interest

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,508

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: It’s only been a week but it feels like ages! Too bad I only had time for one character tonight. I can’t wait to write for multiple characters again (hopefully tomorrow haha).

Anyways Albedo, you’re such a comfort character it was so wonderful to write you again!

Albedo

You didn’t become friends with Albedo in the “traditional” way. There was no moment when you two sat down and had a chat, neither one of you offered to go to the other’s house, and certainly there was no “want to be friends?” It was more that you had stayed and Albedo, in return, hadn’t chased you away. Eventually the idea of friendship just sort of became an implication. After all, if you hadn’t gotten kicked out already, safe to say Albedo didn’t dislike you, right?

No, you were quite sure Albedo didn’t dislike you. But did he like you? That question was a completely different one. And you were well aware of that fact.

At first you tried to find out the answer to the question. Observation: Albedo appeared neither to hold any particular affection for you, or any particular disdain. Hypothesis: Albedo doesn’t like being particularly affectionate towards anyone, so the fact that he’s let you stay on this long means he probably likes you at least as a friend, and might be open to more. Experiment: Try your best.

And you did try your best, looking back you really couldn’t say that you didn’t. Whether it was bringing flowers for him to study – then mash into paints – or making your way painstakingly through the papers he let you read – which usually flew half over your head – so that you could ask him questions about it the next day. You really did try. You were early to every meeting the two of you had, something Albedo seemed to copy after a while, and you were quick to offer your help in any way possible. Making yourself useful and always being there, surely Albedo would notice that. You even snuck in the occasional compliment, the occasional comment about how you were so happy to have someone like him in your life. Still, your experiment didn’t seem too successful.

Shouldn’t you just stop at this point? I mean, you probably could come to some conclusions after the weeks of “experimenting” you’d done. Albedo didn’t dislike you, he definitely didn’t. He thanked you when you brought him stuff and made sure to show up as early as you did to your rendezvous. He sometimes let you keep the flowers you brought him to sketch you instead of using them in his experiments, he even let you bring one of his paintings home. But how much of this really signified anything beyond friendship? It was hard to tell. Albedo certainly never dropped hints that he preferred your company especially. It was simply that you were there and that he didn’t have the want or the energy to send you away. Surely there were many other people who could say the same. Maybe it was time to move on.

Though your emotions certainly weren’t on board with this suggestion – the torch that you held for Albedo was not ready to burn out anytime soon – you did at least manage to rein in your actions a little bit. First it was no longer bringing this and that with you. The particularly small buds of lamp grass remained on their stalks, or pressed into books in your house, the fireflies that you had managed to awkwardly sketch on a piece of cardboard never made their likeness towards the alchemist. Then it was meeting a little less often, not that you didn’t retain the habit of going early when those meetings did happen. It was just, surely you didn’t want to annoy Albedo too much. He might end up kicking you out after a while. Then it was asking him less and less questions while you were there, when you were there.

The affect was more depressing than you cared to admit, before you knew it the idea of going off to find Albedo became almost painful, something that would involve crossing a gulf that somehow grew wider every day. Days turned into a week, turned into two, turned into three. Every day you’d wake up, the idea of going to see Albedo at the forefront of your mind, and every night you lay in bed, scolding yourself for avoiding the person you most wanted to see. And every day the gulf widened a little more.

Perhaps things would’ve continued on like that indefinitely, a never ending circle of guilt and dissonance and going to bed feeling like you’d somehow failed something, like now certainly Albedo wouldn’t want to talk to you. Yet somehow fate had a different idea. Whether or not you were grateful for its interference, you couldn’t tell over the apprehension at the beginning, the relief after the fact.

There was a commission on your list: Pick up salve from alchemist’s lab and deliver it to Sonja before the end of the day. At first you had considered trying to pawn it off onto someone else. After all, this was a rather easy commission, and surely some of the less experience Guild members would be grateful for easy legwork. Still as you were rationalizing all this away in your head, wondering what sort of commission you might get in return, you found that your legs were already moving onto the familiar route you had walked so recently before unsurety and dejection had clouded your actions.

Standing in front of the alchemy lab you felt your legs still as Albedo appeared in front of you. At first you wondered if you might be able to duck somewhere else, to evade detection. Yet your legs which had been so happy to move before suddenly felt leaden and incredibly useless, and all you could do was stare as Albedo glanced up from his papers, his eyes landing on you, the placing blue of his irises widening slightly.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

“I’m here to pick something up.”

It was a bit lame in terms of opening lines, but it was a start.

“Ah, I see,” Albedo replied, looking down at his papers. Stepping towards you slightly he tilted his head. “I thought you might want to see me again.”

“I do! I mean, well, yes,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling as if you had just verbally fallen flat on your face. Still Albedo did nothing but smile, something which eased your nerves slightly.

“I’m glad. I thought I might have done something, and that you no longer wished to talk to me.”

“You didn’t! It was my fault, I’m really sorry I went so long without contacting you. Really, really sorry.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. But are you sure that it’s only you? Are you sure I didn’t do something to make this happen?”

“Well,” you paused. What was the correct answer? Yes didn’t seem right, but no also stuck in your throat. “I, I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

“It’s just, I don’t, I sometimes, I have a hard time knowing what you think of me Albedo.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I a friend? Do you like me? I know that you don’t dislike me, or at least I hope you don’t since you let me trail along so often. But still… I don’t know, I don’t know if it’s because you like me, or because I’m not enough of a bother to send home.” It was close enough to the truth.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you confused,” Albedo’s voice was warm, but there was an urgency to it that broke the usual calm. Looking up into Albedo’s face, having been examining the ground previously, you watched as flashes of emotions crossed the alchemist’s face. “I didn’t realize that I didn’t make my feelings clear. I don’t dislike you. I very much like when you’re around me. I, I think you’re my friend.”

“You think?” How come everything was so confusing?

“In truth, I find classifying relationships difficult. It’s not like alchemy, it’s too messy. So, sometimes I don’t even know how to classify my own relationships. But if there are people in this world who would consider me a friend, who I would consider a friend, you are certainly one of them.”

It was all you could’ve asked for in the moment. Letting a smile erupt across your face, you closed the space left between the two of you. “Thank you for telling me! I’m sorry I was being so selfish by hiding away.

“You weren’t being selfish,” Albedo replied. “You were completely within your rights.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. Gazing up at Albedo you found the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them. “May I say something that might be selfish?”

“What is it?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you, a little bit.”

You watched as Albedo’s eyes widened in surprise. At first you thought you might’ve made a mistake, leapt and fallen into the gulf. However before you could continue that train of thought a smile bloomed on the alchemist’s face in front of you. Taking your hand Albedo leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“Und ich auch.”

#genshin impact #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin albedo #requested #scenarios #oneshot #my writing

[aetherarf]

How would Zhongli, Kaeya, Diluc and Childe react to their teen daughter telling them she’s pregnant? (I don’t mean this in a weird way, teen pregnancy is a serious issue and I’m curious to how these Genshin guys would react to it)

I would have taken it the serious route since... nature of this blog. I may also lean into using some gender neutral terms for the kid cuz... nature of this blog.

I will say these are written very seriously but... healthily. Like, I can't see any of them kicking their kid out when they already fucked up. It goes without saying none of them know if they're doing the right thing but they're mostly doing what they would want done for them.

[Except Zhongli but you'll see why.]

WARNING: A few mentions of ABORTION. Nothing graphic or extreme just vague mentions or implications of it being offered as an option, but not enforced in any way. also PREGNANCY dont read if you dont wanna see pregnancy content.

Anyway, below the cut nonny.

Zhongli

He is... well... a little odd about the situation, with all he's seen through his very long life. Initially, when he sees his child shaking like a leaf in the wind, he assumes much, much worse. Did something happen? Did they do something vile? Oh, oh dear... He's half expecting them to admit to the most gruesome, vile things, and hearing that they're pregnant.

He breathes a sigh of relief for a moment, no fear of them taking adeptus drugs or having killed innocent souls... But then, as the gears in his head turn, he looks at them, then his gaze trails down to their stomach... Pregnant. As in, a child.

He's worried, now, and instantly begins going on some sort of ramble about medicines, the danger of having children with adeptus [whether or not the child was only half or full adeptus, there was still enough of that adeptus blood-- Prime Adeptus blood, that may cause issues.] He's immediately calling in a favor from Baizhu, medicines are in order, to fortify his child's body, because carrying an adeptus is no joke, even if the blood is diluted.

As time goes on... it sets in further. He realizes his child is having a child... who's the other parent? He has a hard time keeping himself away from his little one because... they're just a child themself... did he fail to keep them safe? Doesn't matter, he needs to protect them now, as feral as he feels about it, all he wants is for them to be safe.

If the pregnancy was a mistake, Zhongli... would consider offering medicine that would minimize the child's natural adeptus energy and it would effectively be... an abortion. Of course, it's not that simple, but it's an option. Sometimes, it's the safest, many humans had died giving birth to a partially adepti child.

If they decline, he understands, and he's going to be there for them. There's no guilt or anger, honestly, more fear than anything... Zhongli, out of the four, he's the one who doesn't seem to notice that the age itself is a large issue. The age was a concern, but in the grand span of centuries upon centuries, it wasn't everything. He was more fearful that they would die for this child, without having time to make a choice.

Kaeya

His heart sinks into his belly when he hears...pregnant... they're pregnant?

Instantly, he wants answers. Who was the father? Who put a baby in his baby? Did they consent? Did they plan this ahead of time? Why didn't they tell him before? Are they looking for 'Plan B'? Do they want to keep the child or to put it up for adoption?

After he has his answers, whether or not he likes them or not, there's an eerie silence.

And suddenly, he hugs them. He holds them tight.

"It's okay, little bird, it's okay... I'm right here for you."

He's not sure how to feel, honestly. A part of him just wants to lose it, to murder the bastard who got them pregnant, but he knows better. He knows that a pregnant teen with fear in their eyes and a new, terrifying life ahead of them needs comfort. And he's going to be there for them.

He will openly discuss every possible option, from the worst to the fluffiest, and when they're tired of talking, he's already changed the topic.

Were he to be completely honest, he's not happy about this. He was... well, he had learned who he was before he had a child, but they were... just that. a child. They were young and foolish, he does not think this out of anger, but... Kids are stupid! Teens are absolutely stupid! He was, too!! But... this was going to stop them from being able to fully grow up. Maybe he could take his grandchild, basically raise them alongside them, that would be the best option if he had that option, and while he would recommend/offer it, he won't make demands.

He's not happy, but... there's a lot he's not happy about in life, so, just like everything else, he can find his way to turn a bad thing into a good thing.

Diluc

As soon as he hears... he's quiet for a moment.

He feels... sickened. Sex as a whole is an uncomfortable topic for him, and... well, pregnancy isn't exactly great either. There's horror flashing in his eyes as he's told... But he doesn't say much. In fact, he's probably the calmest out of all of them.

He grabs his child's hand, "What do you want to do about it?"

He lets them talk, maybe they just cry out I don't know!, or maybe they say they want to keep the child. He nods and listens, no smiling, but he does seem calm enough to not rouse fear.

Hell, when Diluc became a father, whether it be from adoption or a partner giving birth, he... didn't know what to do. He didn't. Even if it was planned, or if it was a complete accident, he felt lost. But... holding them was... for a little bit, nothing felt wrong.

He figured, with their even younger age than his own, they must be even more confused. They will figure out what they want, and he will offer to do anything to help them, as long as he believes it won't harm his little phoenix...

Childe

Oh boy.

He's five seconds from murder depending on how they tell him.

If they tell him it was an accident, or them didn't want it, he's about to murder some poor idiot them knocked them up.

If they tell him it was planned and he didn't want him to stop them, he's more heartbroken than anything. Did... they not trust him?

No matter what, after the initial shock or horror or rage subsides... it depends on one last thing before he reacts.

If they don't want to keep it... he tells them he'll make everything better, he'll fix it for them, and goes to find out anything he can.

If they want to keep and raise the child... he's all smiles and happiness. Sure, they're young, and honestly... they fucked up, he'd say that, too... but if they want to keep the kid, then who's he to say no? He's already calling himself a grandpa.

He's sure that they already know they fucked up, and that they really screwed themselves over. If they didn't know now, they would when it was three in the morning and the screams of an infant would wake them over and over.

While, in one way, he feels like he should punish his child... life itself was more than enough punishment. He doesn't want them to run away and deal with that punishment alone, he wants to keep them safe, even if it's from the consequences of their own actions.

#genshin impact #childe #zhongli #kaeya #diluc #// everytime i see those four i think of dckz #// which makes me laugh cuz... dckz... d!cks... #// i am an ADULT ok #anonymous #request #bark writes #angst #// eh? #// idk #pregnancy

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

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

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess. 

He wasn’t always like this, truly.  When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class.  He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty.  He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find.  He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home.  He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down.  He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life. 

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him.  All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route. 

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci. 

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does.  Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it. 

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit.  Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account. 

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends.  While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store.  And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry.  That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.  

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers. 

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips. 

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him.  Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego. 

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon.  I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material. 

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah.  I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye.  The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh. 

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman’s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket.  He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around.  Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all.  Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department. 

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye. 

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on?  You had, like, three fittings.  It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective.  And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner. 

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm.  He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.” 

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm?  I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.” 

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase. 

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department.  Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone.  When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds.  Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth. 

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall.  Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think.  He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag.  The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over.  It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit.  It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago.  Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago.  A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on.  If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight.  He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals.  It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by.  In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N.  When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her. 

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place.  He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes.  After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly.  Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store.  I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions.  Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket.  He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair.  Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit.  In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid.  You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it.  It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters.  It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary.  Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve.  With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really.  It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam?  Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man.  But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job.  “Gorgeous.  The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know.  The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb.  When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry.  As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye.  Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself.  When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies.  I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him.  Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to. 

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice.  It was an accident. You’re fine. 

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise.  Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again.  What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach.  But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer.  Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them?  Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind.  He could do that, yes.  He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that.  If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually.  And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does.  Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store.  It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat.  Plain and simple.  

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches.  Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N.  Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N.  And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else.  It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks.  He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him.  Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look.  We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe?  To match the cufflinks?  We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen.  The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame.  But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing. 

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client.  They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing?  Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So?  Another thousand?  I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises.  When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question.  How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you?  While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles?  Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think.  Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best.  Black, maybe.  To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner.  Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that.  Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour!  We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.” 

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.  

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left?  I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him.  When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble?  A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par.  But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts. 

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know?  Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright?  He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm.  As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations.  Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not.  It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways.  And honestly, she prefers it that way.  She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life.  Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way.  They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week.  Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door.  Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone.  Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands. 

“Uh— yeah.  Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name.  It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back.  Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.  

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.  

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken.  And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear.  When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is.  Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door.  The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.  

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb.  When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake.  Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong.  Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it.  It’s a mistake.  And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes.  It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so.  The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years.  The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form.  And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier.  After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry.  I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.” 

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N.  I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way.  That’s why I’m calling.  So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright?  Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between.  By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door.  She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat. 

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless.  The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace.  However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water.  Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress?  Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What?  Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on?  What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner.  I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on?  Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it.  It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress.  And purse.  And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry.  I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words.  It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption.  Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her.  A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach.  She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.  If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.  

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy.  Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad.  The money thing— that’s not an issue for me.  And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much.  But I was hoping…” 

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well.  The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand.  He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time.  His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve… 

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes.  It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise.  But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready.  Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket.  The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera.  Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema.  C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight.  We ran into a little problem.  Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il ​​favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to.  You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything.  For you, this is no problem.  Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much.  I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense.  I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes.  Thank you again.  Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest.  He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant.  But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes.  He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him.  There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place.  Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed.  After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices.  It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression.  It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room.  Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses.  While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in.  He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners.  In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces.  Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away.  The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls.  No first initial, no general idea— just nothing.  They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then.  The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe.  Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing.  But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different.  While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her.  This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame.  But what else was life like for her there?  She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent.  Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before.  If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past?  Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks?  What if he dug into her bedside table drawer?  Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind?  It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so.  Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to.  Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought.  Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed.  And besides, it’s just for a few hours.  She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair.  A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in.  He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.  

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers.  She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands.  In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway.  Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch.  But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing?  I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit.  Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out.  Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that.  It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then.  Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs.  But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll.  Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him.  She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem.  Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her.  She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work.  Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside.  They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door.  After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson.  I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it.  He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them. 

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then.  Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.  

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits.  He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck.  The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw.  Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat.  Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him.  All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds.  Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself.  He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier.  For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him.  He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.  

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story.  Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises.  With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin.  Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck.  He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new.  I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home.  They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they?  How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress.  When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing. 

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.” 

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions.  He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion. 

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees.  It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises.  She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely.  And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah.  It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels.  I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere.  I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion.  Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See?  Nice and secure, darling.  You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel.  The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto.  He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.  

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip.  Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance.  His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst.  He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste.  But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment. 

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm.  Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.” 

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet.  Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation.  She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter.  He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this.  When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull.  He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx.  I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh.  She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand.  He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady.  Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone.  He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.  

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet.  I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe.  Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below.  After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles.  Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open.  The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N.  The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground. 

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more.  Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles.  Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door. 

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you?  Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says.  Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face.  He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms.  He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again.  How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you.  It’s wonderful to see you, too.  Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment. 

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us.  Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything.  Friends help friends.  Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude.  Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica.  Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend.  Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his. 

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti.  Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you.  Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression.  And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry.  But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant.  Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly.  The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.  

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in.  He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes.  Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles.  Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles.  I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.  

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you.  And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink,  “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo.  It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important.  Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about.  It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t?  I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy.  It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome.  He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips.  It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni.  I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib.  Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question.  When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more. 

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England!  You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though.  I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state.  I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York.  It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands.  Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A.  And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.  

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry.  From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him.  However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion.  Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite.  It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really.  Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles.  I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca.  I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir. 

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian?  He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be. 

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana.  Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian.  My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then.  Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight.  The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu.  We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss?  Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please.  And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca.  Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks?  I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove?  I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location.  She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes.  How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment.  She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand. 

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something.  I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then.  No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list. 

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them.  While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca.  He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything. 

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course.  I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly.  Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed?  Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous.  I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm.  I know.  It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases?  Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright.  Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment.  No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.” 

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his. 

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah.  You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.” 

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement. 

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong!  You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine.  I forgive you.  Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency.  He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care.  It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table.  It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return. 

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down. 

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture. 

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily. 

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for.  Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t.  I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound.  The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you.  It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time.  I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca.  The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening.  We’re just talking, H.  He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh.  Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin. 

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away. 

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient.  At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish?  Pasta?  Red meat?  Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions.  Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’.  That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices.  The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head. 

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English.  Luca will get it.  And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point.  He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips.  She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning.  Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression.  A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right?  At that brunch.  Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence.  The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own.  When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you.  It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair.  So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout.  The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief.  He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right?  Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I’ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.” 

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other.  Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car.  And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.  

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath.  Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!” The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line. 

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam.  With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine.  The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake.  I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really.  Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall!  I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it?  Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest.  I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake.  That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe.  Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now.  It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak. 

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine.  With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face. 

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food.  He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself. 

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce.  It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it.  The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think.  I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same.  I like my steaks cooked rare.  The bloodier, the better.” 

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious!  Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table.  Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery. 

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away.  Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand. 

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue.  His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth.  With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good.  The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.  

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her.  True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth.  However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by.  Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry. 

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best.  I tip well, so I receive better service.  When I receive better service, I tip more.  It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.  I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system.  Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face.  Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards.  He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing.  He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well.  Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too.  I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first.  When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know?  And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even.  Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins.  He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore.  Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were.  We were working really well— incredibly well.  But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural.  Really natural.”

“It does.  And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have.  I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet.  It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’.  Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up.  It was a two way street, love.  Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough.  Moment over, dickhead.  Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really?  Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest.  He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice!  Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking?  So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No.  I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you.  I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out.  He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him.  Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act. 

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly. 

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table. 

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know.  Vincenzo is only a man.  Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight.  You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine. 

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze.  He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then.  Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—” 

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H.  Be careful.”

“Careful?  You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth.  He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center. 

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue. 

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx?  Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table. 

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” 

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it.  You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—” 

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything?  Can we get you more wine?  The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro?  Are you in the mood for dessert?  Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this?  Surely you want to try our dessert?  Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert?  It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine.  We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?” Okay, okay, just the check.  But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo.  Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction.  Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way.  Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world.  By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll.  ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion.  He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin. 

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance. 

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything.  And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright.  I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket.  When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then.  I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like.  Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet.  When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

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