#ive had some love live icons..... back when i did matching icons

[bubblyhoney]

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

-

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

-

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

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

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

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[accio-victuuri]

Style Guide: Wang Yibo

His personal style through the years. from clothes, shoes and accessories. I will include “concept” styles from his UNIQ days and variety shows. As well as a few from awards show & fan meets he attended. I honestly just want to see how he changed so here it is. plus an excuse to look at his pretty pictures. 

I. Early Years and Idol Life

Yibo’s initial style was pretty much divided into his idol life and his personal style. His clothes were leaning more into a blend hip-hop and Korean/contemporary style. He went through various style changes as an Idol with his group, UNIQ and really adapted the KPOP idol style. from changes to his hair color, make up on his performances and elaborate stage clothes. The transition from the innocent/delicate looking blonde to his EOEO look -- he just proves that he can represent any concept well. 

II. Solo work as Wang Yibo

Things started to speed up with his popularity from late 2017 to 2018. Juggling his work as a Musician, Actor, Host, Model, Brand ambassador- everything else. Famous brands started to notice him and his magazine covers are coming one after the other. This is the time where you can see him move fully into the skateboard / streetwear brands as his go-to. Airport photos also show him in ripped skinny jeans and his shirt of choice with a matching cap. he went onto say that he choose the clothes carefully, knowing a lot of people are looking even at him even at the Airport. 

It’s a stark contrast to how people see him in his Produce 101 mentorship stint. A common favorite among fans, every episode shows him in an interesting style. From the hair to his clothes and accessories -- He would always gain attention. You can ask any fan and they will definitely find it hard to rate all of his looks.  

notable brands he loves to wear ( either personally or at events) : off white, stussy, supreme, evisu, wasted youth etc. 

III. Rise to Fame

It’s 2019 and Yibo’s name is everywhere, not only in his home country but on international platforms. His transition to an Actor is finally complete. Keeping his other roles still intact but people noticed a few things missing. No earrings. Dark colored hair with no more highlights. However, his style during fan meets show him in very interesting pieces. Yibo’s airport style remains the same with his go-to streetwear brands but the slew of fans following him around definitely dampened the urge to stroll around the airport. 

His clothes on red carpets and fan meets were always on point. 

IV. The Black Panther

Wang Yibo established himself as a strong player in the entertainment industry with hard work an pure talent. At this point, everything he does and wears is going to be on display for everyone. There is little change to what he prefers to put on during his off time, predictably seen with his favorite brands. sometimes with loose pants on and signature hoodies. No more “instagram” style airport fashion photos as people gathering where he is became a security risk. He was sporting a military cut for his role in BAH most of the time but continued with his laid back style in TTXS episodes. 

A real treat for everyone was when he decided to be a Captain in SDOC3. Every weekend, fans were anticipating what style he was gonna wear. Yibo-official also posts photoshoots for every look/episode. This brought us back the highlights, eyeliners and a combination of street and idol look.

Also he can forget this situation with his pants! 

HIS STYLE QUIRKS

1. His love for personalized things- his love for one of a kind things is not a secret. from his limited edition Legos and shoes, him, wanting to put his names on things is not new. His collaboration with Evisu launched clothes that have his name on it and Audi even has special edition cars dedicated to him.

2. The earrings - He’s not been wearing one lately as he moved from the “idol” image to being an actor. However, it’s one of the most notable fashion accessory associated with him early on. In his Vogue Film cover last year he was wearing one for his role as a bartender. In an interview, he said he liked the earrings he was wearing.

3. Beekeeper hat - This actually went on trending as netizens did not get this type of style. In an interview, he explains that it is “hip hop style”. we don’t see him with this style anymore but it’s a notable one that gathered attention. 

4. Wearing caps  - Yibo’s signature accessory ever since, a combination of fashion and to keep his anonymity nowadays. What everyone really likes though is his 85 cap merchandise and hopefully, he release his own line soon. 

5. Skateboard - If there is anyone who can make holding a skateboard and having it with you all the time a fashion statement - then it’s Yibo. He is often seen carrying it in airport photos and using it on his breaks. As CHN’s ambassador for it, he truly represents the culture. Yibo is also known to influence the people he works with with trying to skateboards. 

BRANDS HE ABSOLUTELY LOVES.

1. Nike - The brand loves him and sends him stuff as their partner, but aside from the shoes--- he definitely influenced his fans in buying his white Nike bag that he always uses. More recently, he started using a black one instead. There is even a joke going around in weibo that people hate it when he wears a specific type of shoes they like, cause it ends up getting sold out.

2. VLONE- He truly is a trendsetter as he is the first artist in CHN who started wearing this brand. You can see him using it on his personal time as well as in some appearances. It’s a brand by one his favorite artist, Asap Rocky. like him, Asap is a style icon and in an interview said he does not shy way from wearing what he wants even if it’s against the norm ( wearing jeremy scott’s adidas collabs at the time that it was considered not masculine to do so.). The brand stands for “You live alone, you die alone” from this quote 👇🏻

3. PeaceMinusOne - Yibo is a fan of G-dragon and like everyone else, is excited and waiting for what he brings out next. He famously posted this brand’s collab on his social media platform twice. He was seen with a phone case from them. G-dragon goes onto say that this project is an extension of himself ; A utopia that we have not reached. He wants peace, but we are not there yet. These pairs of shoes are very hard to get especially since the competition are from celebrities, collectors and fans.

4. Chanel - Do I even need to explain this? He’s been wearing this brand on numerous events. not to mention his love for his chanel coco crush rings. His recent photoshoot for his single had him decked out in Chanel accessories. He started wearing the Chanel women’s blazers around 2019 and has been rocking it ever since. This just goes to show his unconventional approach in fashion & this is why the brand loves to work with him too. 

5. Palace - This is a London based skateboard and clothes shop that he frequently wears during his off days. Yibo is very into the skateboard culture & it’s a perfect fit for him. I cannot count the number of times I saw him wear this.

6. Rolex - I have a whole collection post about this but what he’s been sporting this from very early on. limited editions mostly. 

That’s it for now. This boy’s evolution in his style will continue. He will have more great fashion moments. More brands to collaborate with/ He is sure to bring something interesting every time and his one of a kind choices are always a hit.  ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ  

#wang yibo #bjyx

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

#joker movie #the joker #joker film #joker 2019 #2019 joker #joker joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix #joaquin is so hot omg #dcedit #dc comics #he's so beautiful #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck #Arthur Fleck is I C O N I C #clown daddy #why do i like this clown so much? #i love this clown so much #hes baby #hes so pretty #omg hes so cute #protecc him plz #plz protecc #plz hug him #lol sorry #i had to #this movie gives me life #this man will be the death of me #i can't get enough of this dude #i can't get enough of this babe #arthur fleck x reader

[aharris00britney]

ASKS 19

It’s 6am and Brandon woke me up when he got up to go to work so now... i answer asks bc i cant sleep. 

@mileyzangel said: Can you please make a Harley Quinn hairstyle from both Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey?

I went and watched Birds of Prey the other night and it was really good. Brandon went to sleep I think tfgvhb. But I doubt I’ll try doing her hair from either of the films. @enriques4 is working on one for her Birds of Prey look if you are interested in that <3

Anonymous said: is tiny living worth it? im leaning towards the gameplay although i love cas. is the gameplay as bad as people say?

I honestly don’t think the new beds do anything. They’re... there. Lmao I think the CAS and buy items are very nice. If we get some cc murphy beds then that would make them a lot more usable tbh.  

Anonymous said: how do you and ayoshi keep making some fantastic collabs?? y'all are literally the first people i go to when I make a fresh install and I can't wait to see what you do next

Anonymous said: AxA CC KINGS!!!

Anonymous said: you guys didnt have to snap like that on AxA

Anonymous said: I LOVE EVERY SINGLE PACK U AND AYOSHI DO PLEASE KEEP MAKING MORE

Anonymous said: another iconic ah00b x ayoshi collab YAS LESSGOOOO

We put a bunch of cc ideas (hair and clothes) in a discord server we have together and then work on the stuff together on call usually so each item is the way we both want me. Like for example i’ll be meshing the Ivy top while he works on texturing the ribbed version.  We also only do collabs when they happen, we didn’t plan AxA 2019 or this new set, mainly just made cc starting in May and wrapped it up in July to release in August. Then this time we started making stuff late December and got most of it done by the time I got done with my break. Having a planned collab/deadline makes stuff less stressful and the stuff usually turns out better imo

Anonymous said: hi! ur sims are so prettyyyy what skin texture and eyes do u use?

Anonymous said: hi! wcif the eyes of the sim in the edit that Dogsill edited for you please? thank you!

Anonymous said: Hi! I really love the way your sims looks so, I was what skin and eyes you use?

I actually am changing my default eyes so I need to update my resource page soon ;n; but the skins they use are all listed for each sim on the resource page here

Anonymous said: you always name axa packs by the year but this one was named after a season those that mean.... 👀

We are wanting to do something in the fall, just not sure how our lives will be then ya know? There’s a chance that this will be the AxA 2020. Since we weren’t sure I didn’t want to label it that if 2 AxA’s release this year lmao

Anonymous said: what game is the pokemon thing you're playing!? pls help a guy out i'm in love with the art style

Pokemon Sword and Shield (I have shield) for Nintendo Switch. I’ll prob post more pics once I get some new shinies :P

@kristabunny said: lol is it bad that when I saw your Santana hair I read it as Satan Hair XD

tbhhhhh it was lowkey referencing that lmao. I made the hair in October for a speed meshing video and since it was around Halloween I was like “lemme give her an almost demonic name” also Santana from glee is a queen

Anonymous said: Tbh I absolutely adore your female cc but I LIVE for your male cc!!!

Thank you! lmao the only thing I can take full credit for is the AxA male hairs. I mesh the clothes for packs but ayoshi does the texturing for them.  

Anonymous said: Could you have a go at the updo Dua Lipa has on the cover of her Future Nostalgia? The high bun with a flick in it and the strands of hair down the sides. Thanks if so :)

I’m not the biggest fan of the hairstyle tbh ;n; but we will see. (Physical is a serve, just saying)

Anonymous said: So ive never played pokemon before until my friend gave me a copy of pokemon moon. I love cats so of course my starter was a litten, but i had no clue about evolutions or anything like that. I was heartbroken when my cute litten turned into some big man cat :(

omg noooo ;n; yeah Litten is a cutie... incineroar is... well I got used to him tbh and kind of like him now? I absolutely hate scorbunny’s evolution (and most of the SWSH starters final evolution) so I think that made incineroar slightly better in my eyes. My shiny litten will be staying a kitten however :)

@multifandom-slytherin said: Hello! I love your cc! Would it be possible for you to make the bangs from your Bree Hair a separate accessory that you can put with other hairs (for example the BG low ponytail)? Thank you so much!

Anonymous said: have u considered making or allowing someone to make an acc version of your handmade bangs?

I have thought of doing accessory bangs tbh, I just like... don’t like using accessory bangs myself. So I’m not sure if I’ll end up doing it. I might try it for myself and see how many hairs they work with, and if it is a decent amount I’ll release. 

Anonymous said: First off I want to say how amazing all of your hairs and collabs are! Second I was curious if you ever thought of going back to your old hairs and updating their thumbnails / display indexes so they matched your stuff now?

I really really wanted to have all my 2019 hairs updated by 2020. It was only January 2019-April 2019 that needed updated (thumbnails and display indexes). But I just lost motivation for doing it. I will focus on it next time I have a big break from school. Also planning on updating select stuff from 2018 and 2017. 

Anonymous said: please put Sophia Barker in the gallery. PLEASEEEEE it's the most beautiful sim I EVER seen! >:3 PLEASEEE!!!!!!!!!!

She should be on there? I think? Make sure you have CC enabled and if you can’t find me through the gallery her tray files are here

Anonymous said: Hi! After the recent patch I started having a small issue with Bree hair(without bangs), when I zoom out it looks like a completely different hair, something similar to that one basegame hair that's layered with tips pointed outward but longer. Thought I'd let you know, maybe others have had a similar issue or maybe I need to change a setting or something. Love your work so much!

Really surprised this is the first time someone told me about this lmao. The hair should be updated now on SFS/Patreon <3

Anonymous said: I tried to look around for this on your "Asks" portion before bothering you (so sorry), but do you have a link perhaps for all the lips you use on your models? Are they in game or a cc you create? Thanks so much! Love all of your work! I'm super new to cc stuff and I found yours like 2 days ago and have been going nuts with downloads lol 

like presets? None of my cc models use a lip preset. I do use this slider on some of them though. For lipsticks, that is listed for each model on my resource page <3

Anonymous said: i’ve been looking for a hair like lexi that i actually like forever and now i find it but it’s for paterson peeps and i’m like actually broke and i’m like :/

im sorry ;n; at least it wasn’t too long of a wait? :/ I hope you liked the hair

Anonymous said: I can't find your jisoo ponytails in your downloads?

they’re in my retired section... may they rest in peace. scroll to the bottom of my downloads and youll see ‘RETIRED.’ click that for the retired download page. 

@eclypt-0-sims said: Hi, I recently started making MM hair and I know you're probably an expert at this but; every time I go into CAS to test a hair, all of my accessories clip with the hair. Like the hair texture would cover some glasses if my sim was wearing glasses. I don't know how to fix it, someone told me to delete an eye weight in blender but I don't really understand weight painting that much, any suggestions? love your content btw

this is a late as hell reply i’m sorry. I think that you have texture where the glasses texture would be. Hair texture should only be in hair section or hat section (if you don’t want it hat compatible). Here is a UV map layout that I use for making hair textures. It shouldnt have anything to do with weights

Anonymous said: Do you use reshade when you take previews for your cc? and also is the tropical punch ombre overlay a palette or did you make it?

I do use reshade when I take cc previews. It adds a bit of saturation to my sims and gives them some shadows under their chin/clothes. Nothing major. Also, myself and @imvikai came up with the tropical punch palette together.

@little-eris​ said: You probably have answered this before but who drew your tumblr icon? I’ve seen the same art style with other simmers 👉🏼👈🏼 it’s super cute!

thank you! here is their twitter 

Anonymous said: The male sim in your Tiny Living review looks soo familiar; was there inspiration from anyone IRL? The person he reminds me of isn't even famous so I don't even know! He is very pretty though *-*

He was a gallery sim that I just revamped a bit so I’m honestly not super sure lmao. But he is very attractive yes I agree

that concludes this ask ceremony please collect your things and move to the exit to your left. fvghbjn if you sent something I didn’t answer and it was off anon I’ll get to you soon (person who asked what beards I used for AxA... I see you)

#asks #not me spending an hour doing this #im actually kinda tired now but do i sleep #or do i just stay up... i have class at 12 #it is 7am now

[zackmephisto]

dirt watches aew

ITS TIME BITCHEZ

stop i don't want to see this betrayal :(

mjf turned and now my depression is Worse i hate him i love him :(

JURASSIC EXPRESS AAAAAA

N Y L A YES OG MY GOD

i know I didnt hear yall boo nyla.

HANGMAN AND PAC REEEE

SCUUUUU REEEEE

M I S T E R M O X L E Y

:'''''(

STOP IM GONNA CRY KENNY NOOO

is it really nakazawa v mox. that's wild

mox looks good wtf?

STOP pulling the crazy shit dude. hes a good boy.

is he wrestling in pants bc his legs got fucked up or

that was weak. wtf ?

is it just bc hes still sort of hurt and they want to book him stronger than kenny?

o he speak

"you are one radical son of a bitch" how come he can say bitch but chuck cant say the s word

👀

damn yeah what's next for him. he really did fuck up kenny. who is next. I'm excited idc who is next like.... whoever it is they're gonna be working w the best of the best tbh

wait what the fuck why is it a championship match with sammy and chris and scu. why

cheer dark order and their gimp army you FUCKING cowards

T H E M!!!!!

GOD I LOVE MY CHILDREN STOP IM GONNA CRY MARKO WEARING THE MASK

THE MARKO CHANTS THANK YOU LORD

i have no more will to live now that marko ate the pin

STOP BEFORE I CRY FOR REAL

oH MY GOD LUCHASAURUS AAAA

luchasuarus said "back off my baby dinosaurs" and i respect that

hes obv still a little hurt tho you can see it in his movement

I STAN ONE DINOSAUR FAMILY

hmmm how come scu have to defend their championships every five minutes but chris jericho is always safe 🤔

gfys shawn spears

i'm a simple woman. i see shawn spears on my screen and I switch tabs

I constantly thank god for darby allin

Aubrey 😍😍😍😍

if darby loses i sue

JOEY!!!

uh. i mean. i mean. joey. big deal. who even cares about him and his braids and he smells anyway 😡

thank u darby i love you and definitely not joey...

DARBY AND JON WAIT STOP I CANT BREATHE OH MY GOD NO PLEASE THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST THING IVE EVER SEEN SCREEEEEE

I'm literally screeching darby vs mox??? NAME A MORE ICONIC DUO

ya'll have a crowd full on transphobes huh

darby vs mox tho this is so goddamn exciting

SO excited oh my god who is nyla fighting !!

who??

people really are such big transphobes that they're cheering someone who hasn't had a match yet. i hate straighties

thank you queen I love you

get well soon dad i miss u :(

i feel like i should know her by sight but i don't

o i remember her. i like her merch

shes annoying

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

AWESOME KONG AND BRANDI MY SKIN IS CLEARING AS I SPEAK

perish, blonde woman

god i love this. i LOVE THIS

if mjf joins the inner circle i want it to be known right now at 5:56 pm that i will Still Stan. okay. i stood w baron corbin through it all. i'll stand by mjf through it all.

every time some one swears on aew and it's not chuck taylor i lose six months of my life

OH?!?!?!

HELLO MAX I LOVE YOU GOOD MORNING MY SWEET SCARF SON

he's handsome no one @ me ever again

i lov u asshole love you so much

LOVE YOUUUU

NO I LOVE YOU I'M NOT UPSET I LOVE YOU

expose him Max EXPOSE HIM

max 😍😍😍😍😍

I believe every word you've ever said ever

max is right stop SAYING MEAN THINGS TO HIM

THIS MAN IS HURT MAY I HUG HIM

max STOP I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

AND WHAT A HANDSOME NEW FACE IT IS

YES YOU ARE BETTER THAN HIM AND I DO KNOW IT

wake up sheeple max is RIGHT

"my third or fourth installment" go off king.. go off......

sigh. I didnt want to do this. but i'm gonna have to stan.

or not?

MAX SAID A LITTLE BIT OF THE BUBBLY AND I IMMEDIATELY GOT UP TO GRAB THE CHAMPAGNE I SAVED FOR THIS EXACT SITUATION

ok thank god i dont have to stan the inner circle

thanks max i love you

HE IS HANDSOME ITS TRUE

ok... maybe that was funny. but I still love max

dont do this Max I dont want to stan

this is making me laugh hella hard dncnsndj

I LOVE THE HUG

cody man come on just let me have my max in peace

sigh

cmon Maxwell let's go

who?

wardlow I see

ok. I stan if he likes max

@ Maxwell Jacob Friedman choke me like that d*ddy

good morning it's been an hour and I've had four mikes and am on my fifth i'm drunk and in love with mjf

cowboy 😍😍😍😍😍

wait please don't let hangman lose I dont want to see him sad anymore

pac is fucking. more than human. I love him too

COW👏BOY👏SHIT👏

"i'm shocked by pac's leg strength" me 2 bud. those legs? i'm always shocked. hes so ripped his muscles have muscles

BASTARD SHIT LMFAOO HOW THE TURNS HABE TABLED

COWBOY STOP MAKING THESE NOISES I FEEL NSFWORK

yall are going to commercial in the middle of this match? disgostang. guess its valid bc this alcohol is going right thru me but. >:(

so Twitter says luchasaurus is actually Back back I'm really really happy abt that I missed dinosaur father

i finished going to the bathroom and sat down and it came back on clearly this is dirt rights

hangman and pac didnt get up for a second and I was Ben Affleck w cigarette. jpeg for a second thinking abt pac vs moxley

thank u for being a good bean mr ref bryce

:(((((((((((((((((((((

suing aew for emotional distress

JESUS matt Jackson

OH MY GOD AAAAAA ORANGE IVE NEVER LOVED A MAN MORE

literally I love orange cassidy more than i love myself

I'd be more exciting for this bucks/proud n powerful moment if orange cassidy wasn't on screen for two (2) seconds. His Impact

aew refs are my new mandatory kin

dont hurt Brandon Cutler hes a good boy

:(

thank god for private party

proud n powerful vs private party is dirt rights

me: :l

scu: SCUUUUU

me: :)

oh yeah btw my onion on scu officially changed i love them officially

SCU SAYS FUCK NASHVILLE BUT I LOVE WRESTLING FANS AND REALLY THATS CALIFORNIANS IN A NUTSHELL, I CAN CONFIRM, BEING CALIFORNIAN

i'm DRUNK thank god for autocorrect

why is sammy not vlogging. is he okay. does he have a fever

anyway if scu loses i'm suing again

jericho, a few weeks ago: WHO WEARS A SCARF

Jericho, today: wears a scarf tonight and talks abt scarfs today

judas FUCKS one of my fave songs of all time tbh

sammy guevara is like. 12. stop hip thrusting, child

kaz, my angel. I love you. so much

sammy: I GOT EM, DAD. I GOT EM

I love sammy BUT he better eat this pin so hard hes still tasting it next week

almost started filing my aew lawsuit when scorpio sky almost got pinned

I love how effective and strong the thesz press is. so wild. thank u mr sky

oh thank fuck. thank FUCK that pin wasn't complete

PLEASE MR SKY

THANK YOU MR SKY

SCU BEAT INNER CIRCLE SO NO ONE EVER TALK SHIT ABT CALIFORNIANS EVER AGAIN

unless ur californian. in which case ur allowed

scorpio sky being the first person in aew to pin Jericho is California Rights

that was a wonderful show. orange cassidy was there so it was 10/10. everyone say thank u aew

#dirt watches aew #11.13.19 #dirt's posts

[angrylizardjacket]

Holding Court In A Crown {Roger Taylor}

Sequel to And All The Queen’s Men {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 3630 words. Giselle is fun to write and I love her. Another article style, based off of many conversations between @ginghampearlsnsweettea and I. Let me know what you think.

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

HOLDING COURT IN A CROWN - GISELLE TAYLOR in conversation with Vogue UK about her fashion evolution through the decades. (Published June, 1991)

When stepping into the Taylor home, it becomes immediately apparent that this is a home in which public image has always been very important. Gold and Platinum albums alike line the front foyer, shining reminders of the achievements of both artists who reside here. It’s surprisingly modern, hardwood floors and large windows that allow light to stream in, though the house itself is smaller than one might expect. Giselle herself greets me in the front hall, looking carefully casual in a flattering, warm yellow summer dress, that hits just above her knees, and a pair of matching yellow slip on shoes.

I’m lead through the house, past closed doors, one of which I’m told is a personal recording studio, into a open-planned kitchen-dining area. It’s a strange marriage of two aesthetics, no pun intended, the German-inspired open planned living with the dark counters, appliances, and features that make the space feel a little smaller, though it comes together to make something modern and chic, and perfectly suited to both Giselle and her husband’s images.

“Roger’s with the girls,” she tells me, referring to her daughters, pouring us both a glass of water in some of the fanciest crystal glasses I’ve ever seen, “not that he wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk about his “fashion choices”,” her air quotes, not mine, “but I thought I’d spare you the half hour argument about the wine stain, and all the other, sundry fashion choices of mine that he likes to take credit for.”

Giselle herself admits that she’s always been very fortunate in terms of fashion, “I mean, I look good in everything,” though there’s an air of self deprecation about it, “Actually, I’ve had a certain liberty with my work attire that not a lot of people have, unless you’re in the entertainment industry.” What began with a rented cocktail dress bloomed into one of the most influential fashion timelines of the 70s and 80s.

Beginning her career in an establishment modeled after American prohibition-era speakeasies, Giselle started off wearing cocktail dresses rented from the pub itself. “I actually did start off as a waitress, but for that you just had to provide your own black pants and white top, you know, wait-staff attire.” When the pub’s regular singer leaves, Giselle auditions to be her replacement, “they were just grateful I could fit into her dress, I could lipsync for all they cared.” Except, as well all know, Giselle can sing, and begun to make a name for herself in the community that frequented the pub.

Pulling out a polaroid of herself and music industry giant Ray Forrester, she shows me the only proof she has of the dress that started it all. It’s a rather ill-fitting, wine-coloured, sateen slip dress, it looks cheap, and according to Giselle, “it itched like crazy, it was cleaned once a week, and I was just glad that I was the only singer, some of the members of the jazz band had interchangeable costumes.” We both shudder at that, and she puts the photo on the counter.

As soon as she was given some modicum of control over her wardrobe, she took full advantage of it. Without a coherent aesthetic solidified by the release of her first album, Giselle admits she used the tour for Velvet Roses to experiment with both fabrics and styles. I personally have always favoured the midnight blue, velvet bouffant-style dress she wore during her stops in Belfast and Paris, but she goes on to praise the white, silk slip dress she had during her stop in West Berlin.

“Silk! Oh the silk, I dream about that dress sometimes,” she laughs a little, and now that we’ve begun to discuss her tour outfits, she leads me upstairs, “at the time it was the most comfortable thing I’d worn… ever; being able to work, to perform in something so luxury? It was a blessing.”

Her closet, at least the closet she stores her tour garments in, is separate from her bedroom, and locked. She’s got the key in her pocket, prepared, of course, for the interview, and as we step in I can hear the hum of a dehumidifier, and feel the chill of the air conditioning.

“It’s my one real extravagance.” As she turns on the lights, we’re greeted to the sight of a room, approximately four meters deep and half as wide, lined with railings that are practically stuffed with garment bags of varying sizes, and the end of the little room has a built in area for her jewel toned and bejewelled shoes alike. Three mannequins pose in the ample amount of space in the centre of the room, each wearing one of her most iconic outfits.

Each section of the racks around the side are carefully labelled by year, and it takes only a moment for Giselle to go through the section labelled 1971 before she’s pulling that same white dress from a garment bag. It still looks pristine, and when she offers for me to feel it, I understand what she’s saying.

“I’ve always tried to keep a very high standard in term of the materials I wear,” it was the first part of her aesthetic identity that was formed. “I’d never really had access to luxury on this scale before; I’d lived in sweaters and jeans for most of my [university] days; I was one of those girls in the little skirts and beaded tops at clubs- I lived my life in gogo boots every weekend of my first year.” Apparently she still has her favourite pair in the back of her personal closet, but seems hesitant to show me.

When asked what prompted her aesthetic shift, she reveals her passion for luxury stage-wear was only part of the decision. “I’d go on stage in silk pyjamas like Hugh Hefner if I could, but it’s not my brand.” Forrester was a big motivating force behind her solidification as the picture of elegance.

We get to the first of the mannequin dresses now, the fitted, black, off the shoulder cocktail dress, shining with sequins and beads, a perfect frozen reminder of her performance on Top of the Pops. To see it in person, still pristine, I get hit with just a hint of nostalgia, as does Giselle herself it seems. Marvelling at it with arms crossed over her chest, I’m granted a closer look at what was quite possibly the most iconic outfit of the 1972 lineup on the hit British musical program. The gloves themselves are more intricate than first imagined; what was assumed to just be red glitter is actually hand stitched, red sequins from the tips of the finger all the way to the wrist where it fades to chunky, red glitter, glued on and somehow width standing the test of time, to then dissolve into fine and sparsely scattered red glitter from the mid-forearm to the elbow. The beads and sequins on the dress itself are affixed with barely noticeable, shiny red thread, that gives the dress dimension up close. Giselle cites Gothic Romanticism as an inspiration to add depth to her jazz-bar persona, as well as the theatrics of musical theatre, going so far as to called the dress the ‘Merry Murderess’ despite the fact that the musical Chicago premiered almost three years after the dress’ initial debut.

Despite this look being regarded as one of her classics, and therefore setting the standard for her public image for the years to come, there’s no denying that Giselle didn’t enjoy experimenting with her outfits.

“I’ve never technically worn pants on stage,” as we move further into the room, she begins to pull various garment bags from the racks seemingly at random, “skirts, skorts, shorts - which some might argue are close enough - dresses, and even full jumpsuits, but never actual pants; I’ve always been worried that they were too masculinising for my act.” Moving on to the rack labeled 1975, she pulls out a particularly slim bag, and from it she pulls a pair of shorts made of what looks like liquid gold, but I know is made of velvet, with suspenders to match. It hangs over a sheer, flowing, cream crop-top with bell sleeves.

This outfit is cited as the first time she had deviated from her skirts and dresses, though the outfit itself is still exquisite and has an air of regality. “I was in Phoenix in ‘74 when I wore this; I’d had it included in my repertoire for the Hand Held Heart tour in case it became especially hot,  which, being Arizona in the summertime, it was.” It’s here we start to see the influence of other artists bleed into her work; the occasional feathery flamboyance borrowed from Elton John, the avant-garde pattern and makeup work popularised by David Bow, and of course, the extravagance and glitz of Queen’s Freddie Mercury.

“You always have to specify that it’s [Freddie Mercury],” she’s very serious on this point, holding up her iconic, short, incredibly sheer white, long-sleeved fitted dress, marbled with red sequins to protect her modesty. It’s reminiscent of the red and white shorts Mercury had been known to favour on tours. “The others, while, yes, they could be well dressed on occasion, [Roger Taylor]’s lime green jeans aside, they never had the flair or audacity that Freddie had to be truly influential.”

After recording a cover of Queen’s Jesus for her third album, Giselle entered into an unofficial partnership with the band, which she tells me included a collaboration with Mercury himself on their costumes.

“I’d spent a long time trying to merge my style and my musical origins with modern aesthetics; I worked very closely with a designer, since it’s not technically my strong suit.” She pauses for a moment, and we make our way to the mannequins again, this time to the second, a floor-length, evening-gown style dress in lilac, capped sleeves, looking as though it’s tie-dyed with blackcurrant glass beads instead of fabric dye. “Getting to collaborate with the band was easy enough; I did talk with [Jim Beach] regarding the use of the song, but he ultimately he ruled that it was up to them, and so once that connection was established, I actually asked Freddie to help me with some tour outfit designs.”

People often assume Giselle is referring to her team contacting Queen’s lawyer, but she goes on record now to explain that it’s not true. “I’m a lawyer, my own lawyer, and I also work for several big-name bands in the music industry today. EMI picked me up halfway through my final year, but I still continued to go to [university], and I did actually intern under (sic) [Beach] while writing my second album. “ I’m assured that she had just regular suits in her personal closet; three, in grey, black, and cream, well fitted, ‘but not why you’re here’ she adds with a self-deprecating smile.

The lavender and blackberry dress was one designed by Mercury himself, the pale lavender representative of elegance and femininity, while the darker blackcurrant is used to bring depth to the dress the same way Giselle’s unwavering, calculated persona brings depth to her performances. It was Mercury’s idea to interweave the two in the tie-dyed style, keeping Giselle’s traditional aesthetic through the glass beads and the cut of the dress.

As we continue along the timeline, it’s clear to see the effect Mercury had on Giselle’s stage wardrobe, the use of geometric patterns coupled with bold colours, and more glitter and sequins than you can shake a stick at becoming more prominent throughout the late 70s, somehow still managing to keep in line with her traditional aesthetic simultaneously.

“I refuse to wear print.” She’s adamant about it when the possibility of wearing a garment like Mercury’s vest with his cats painted on it comes up. “Geometric doesn’t count; the texture in my wardrobe is always going to be,” she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word, fingers brushing through the fur of the fur-cuffs of a long-sleeved purple velvet number, “diegetic.” She settles on, and it’s clear what she means; patterns on her clothes are always wrought through beads or diamonds or fur or other things attached. “It’s the reason I have it locked, [Lilith Taylor, 7] has left the ‘indiscriminately grabbing things that feel nice’ stage a few years ago, but Rosie [Rosemary Taylor, 4] is just at the tail end of it. They’ll have free reign of this place one day,” she looks around at the fashion legacy she has built for herself, she wears an expression of pride, though it’s more focused on her daughters than the clothes themselves, “but for now I want to keep choking hazards and expensive furs out of danger.”

Around the very end of the 70s to the beginning of the 80s we see a return to form, with the resurgence of her form-fitted cocktail dresses. “There was a lot of change happening in my life at that time, and as much as I enjoy experimenting with my looks, it helped me feel secure to know I was in what was objectively my strong suit, pun not intended.”  According to her, she’d just begun seeing Roger Taylor, and she used her fashion choices to exercise control in her life that she felt she was losing.

“My private life has always been very private, now here I am with the man who trashes drum kits and throws TVs out window; I was so afraid that every time people took a photo of me, or even looked at me, they’d think I was compromising my morals or integrity - which I’m not, and I wasn’t then.” She quickly clarifies. “Our personal history is not void because of where we are now, but Roger and I have also changed as people, and we’re allowed to have our feelings change. I’m honestly a little offended people think I we would have gone through all we did for mere publicity.”

Speaking of Roger, I’m a little surprised her wedding dress isn’t one of those on the mannequins, but I understand her choice, and we’ll certainly get to that soon. Her wedding dress sits at the back of one of the racks, carefully distant from any of the year labels. As she removes it from the garment bag, she gives it a softly nostalgic smile, brushing the fabric gently. “This should really go in my own closet.” It’s unlike most of her other outfits here, such a pale cream it’s almost white, floor-length and sleeveless with a Roman-inspired cinched waist topped with what I hesitate to even call ruffles, their drapings so loose it’s reminiscent of curled hair rather than a traditional ruffle. The material is so soft and light that even on a hanger it looks a little ethereal. It’s simple, elegant, and the very sight of it brings joy to her face.

“’81.” The year is surprising, as is the revelation she shares about how they celebrated their tenth anniversary a few months prior. Putting the dress away, we move to the early eighties, and it’s almost cyclical the way we’re brought back to the ‘Merry Murderess’ aesthetic with the lineup from her ‘The Bend Before The Break’ tour. 

“Everyone and their mother seems to have read the article [All The Queen’s Men, Rolling Stone, 1985] and figured out I was in a shaky place at the time; it’s again about having that modicum (sic) of control. Part of me reverted to portraying myself in the way when I felt like I was at the height of control in my relationships and career. It’s a pretty aesthetic,” she gently pulls a velvet, wine-coloured cocktail dress from the rack, giving it a gentle pat, “it made my stage presence feel good, honestly.” It doesn’t sound bitter, but she puts the dress back. 

Apologising for a moment, she explains the large gap between ‘82 and ‘84, with her Finally, Sunlight tour. “After coming home from the [The Bend Before The Break] tour, I took some time to myself; I was, of course, still writing, but I couldn’t really perform or make any big public appearances after like, July in ‘83, because I was quite pregnant, and, again, I’m a private person.” The Finally, Sunlight tour is known for two things, Giselle wearing gold, silver, and copper, in any and every way she could, and the Atlanta Breakdown.

“I wore metallics because Finally, Sunshine is about my baby girls, and they are so precious to me.” As was made clear in the Rolling Stone article, Giselle and Roger lost one of their twin daughters to illness in Autumn of 1984, though Lilith survived, it took a devastating toll on the couple. Moving past that, we’re finally brought to the crown jewel of the collection; her Live Aid dress.

It’s almost the antithesis to the ‘Merry Murderess’, though it shares a similar neckline and off-the-shoulder style. The Live Aid dress, which Giselle calls ‘Queen Midas’ for reasons I’ll get into later, has a white, crushed velvet bodice with an inbuilt corset, and basque waistline. Beneath the waist is a enough layers of thin and flowing georgette to become completely opaque, like a waterfall from the waistline, the colours fading from a bright, sunshine yellow at the hip, to a rich, sunset orange by the knee, and finally to a smokey, warm-toned charcoal where it brushes the ground, with gold jewels dotted around the bottom and creeping almost to the knee in some sporadic places, reminiscent of embers in a fire. Her gloves are white velvet, and just like with the first of her most iconic outfits, it’s gold sequinned fading to actual glitter and diamonds. 

“I took a hard look at where I was and what I had achieved, and... whether or not I can help it, I effect people, through my music, my actions, through what I wear, and can be a double edged sword. Sometimes it can hurt, or I can hurt others by saying or doing the wrong thing, but sometimes I find myself wanting for nothing; everything I’ve held close has turned to gold. I wanted to show that, to be able to be a part of something that gives back to the world where it’s given me so much.”

With all her most well-known outfits having been covered, there’s one more that comes to the top of my head; the jacket of 1980. The tabloids had a field day with her choice of wardrobe as she stepped out of a car with the rest of Queen wearing a salmon and green floral, double breasted suit jacket, with silver buttons and silver stilettos, with sheer, thigh high white socks held up by a garter belt, hair fashionably messy, but makeup pristine. The deviation from her usual pristine image had shocked both paparazzi and public alike, however the daring outfit had quickly been lauded as one of her best, many publications who ran photos even citing it as the entertainment industry’s hottest innovative look of the decade. Even since it has stood the test of time, and has been attributed to the rise of patterned and bold suit jacket purchases by men and women alike, with the outfit have been cited as inspiration for more than one celebrity’s red carpet look. 

Now, however, something, possibly amusement, possibly annoyance, crosses her face, and she tells me it’s not here. The jacket is Mercury’s. “We were on our way to a party being hosted by [Elton John], and I’d only been with Rog for a few months at this point; so we’re in the back of the limo with the other [members of Queen] and Roger’s spilled his wine on my nice, white cocktail dress.” It seems like a bittersweet memory, and she reminds me of her earlier comment about the ‘wine stain argument’. “In hindsight, everything worked out, but at the time I was absolutely livid; very nearly killed him in that backseat. Poor [John Deacon] literally had to drag me off of him. [It] took both him and Freddie to hold me back when Roger got out once we arrived, and they had the driver circle the block again so I could change into Freddie’s jacket, which he so kindly lent to me.”

From her tone, and her following comments about how her husband likes to bring it up, it seems as though it’s a well worn argument of how Roger Taylor enjoys taking credit for the look, though Giselle doesn’t seem like she enjoys giving him the satisfaction.

“My image has always been about how much I can control what people see of me, and to have that control taken away by a careless action, it really hurt. A man like Roger, in the entertainment industry, is never going to face the kind of scrutiny that I do, it’s the reason you’re here at all, talking to me about fashion rather than say, how difficult it is to be a practicing lawyer in the music industry while raising two beautiful daughters. And I still write music on occasion. But people remember what you show them, how you present yourself; my tour wardrobe is a reflection of the persona I let interact with the world, and it’s beautiful, and a legacy that will probably outlive me to some extent. 

“Do I regret any of my fashion choices? I don’t really have the liberty to, do I? And either way, they’re part of the reason I’m where I am today; I made a niche for myself that was built initially on my aesthetic, if I’m being generous, so I suppose I’ll always be grateful to it.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #queen #borhap imagine #the angry lizard writes

[lovegvvd]

❝ She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world. ❞ SARAH PAULSON? No, that’s actually LUNA LOVEGOOD-SCAMANDER. Only FORTY-TWO years old, this RAVENCLAW alumni works as a MAGIZOOLOGIST and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE/THEY identifies as AGENDER and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be ECCENTRIC, BLUNT, and UNSELF-CRITICAL but also NONCONFORMING, INNOVATIVE, and PERCEPTIVE.

LINKS: stats, pinboard, character tag. CHARACTER PARALLELS: orla mccool (derry girls), misty day (ahs), dale cooper (twin peaks), phoebe buffay (friends) HELLO once again a note from me mar, that a lot of this is open to discussion and alteration as i’m going off the little canon that i have and because luna is a character with a few already existing ties. so yep! this is all up for discussion! yeet! also i apologise for the length of the history section akdfhsdkjf. also i always forget that luna is married to rolf so pls remind me x

history

luna’s parents were traveling when they became pregnant with her and decided that they would settle in whatever place their child would come to earth --- a game of chance, perhaps, but one of fate, too, they thought. they’d always been dreamers, romanticists, adventurers, and why not let their child decided where they’d end up, even before her birth? and so they settled near a small town in south west england, where luna was born under a full moon and thus named luna. for the moon, that had followed her traveling parents everywhere they went, for the moon, the only thing that would be able to match their child’s powerful and mysterious spirit, for the moon, which she was born under.

the house they lived in was built by her parents, and luna loved it. the house twisted and curled and offered plenty of room for her imagination, from day one. life growing up was complete, was free, it was close to perfect ---- and yet, somehow, it shattered.

[ parental death, trauma tw ] at nine years old, luna watched her mother day. it was supposed to be a day of excitement --- every time her brilliant mother invented a new charm, they would have an extravagant dinner and celebrate until way too late and laugh widely and loudly. nothing like that happened. luna watched her mother die in stead and hammered on her chest to try and get her heart to start beating again but nothing, nothing, nothing worked. the world was a mystery and death was, too, but still one thing was clear: her mother was gone, in one way or another.

luna struggled to accept this truth, as she often did with truths. her father grew fragile and obsessive and she grew nervous and quiet and good at being on her own. she started painting and tried to combat flashbacks to that day during the day, only to have nightmares at night. having a wide imagination was a gift, most of the time, but with this, it was a curse.

luna was traumatised. simple as that. her father wasn’t the best support system, but he was there in a way. the roles of father-daughter shifted, slightly, as luna took care of him, too, but he was still there. and so the last two years before hogwarts were hard. terribly, horribly hard. it was trying to learn how to live in a house where something so vital was missing. it was tryign to understand what death was, which is something that simply refuses to be understood. it was fucking hard. period. (not that luna admits that to herself, even now.) [ end of tws ]

luna arrived at hogwarts and was sorted into ravenclaw very quickly and easily. she noticed that she was odd --- or, actually, other people noticed that she was and told it to her, and she shrugged her shoulders and kept moving on. luna had grown reclusive after the death of her mother, and didn’t mind not fitting in. it was lonely, sure, but she didnt see a reason to befriend people who looked down on her beliefs. she didn’t mind being called loony, but when her belongings started to disappear, she grew angry, deep down. she let most comments and acts of cruelty slide off her back, but when a bad word was muttered about her father ( who she already worried so so much about ), she was prone to explosion.

but she was lonely, and then she was not. the details are fuzzy, but at one point she found friends at hogwarts! finally! she did it! luna learned to come out of her shell, learned how to handle compassion ( though clumsily and in her own way, of course ) and the wonderous world of having friends. she painted them on her ceiling and loved and laughed and ---- things were good. she loved. she laughed. she wasn’t alone, and while she had never considered herself alone or lonely, it wasnt until she gained friends that she realised that she had been awfully alone.

upon graduation, luna took to the world. she traveled far and wide and learned from amazing, genius people across the world. she studied magizoology and wrote her first essay on a newly discovered species a year into her travels. she returned home often enough, of course, to see how her father was doing, to see her friends. friendship had once been a scary and new thing to luna, but as she grew older, it became natural and easy and something she couldnt do without.

at some point, she and fellow magizoologist rolf scamander got it going. they married, had a pair twins and a new chapter of luna’s life opened up. once again, the complete details about her and rolf meeting are fuzzy, but i imagine it was LIT. i do think she settled more, then, especially when the twins were born. luna hadn’t really had rooted herself down after graduation ( the cottage she owned in the hills of england was a home she barely called a home, as she wasn’t there much ), but that did change.

luna is still the person she was before, she’s just more. she’s more grounded, but not any less in love with keeping her eyes wide open and her head in the skies. she’s a parent. she’s married. she’s got a successful career and a group of people surrounding her that she loves. she has grown up, but she hasn’t compromised. she’s learned how to use perspective and how to be more subtle, without shedding eccentricity or open mindedness.

the quibbler, by the way, still exists and has grown into even more of an underground, activistic magazine. luna writes for it every month.

[ grief, death tw ] so things were going well, and then everything changed. grief came into her life again.  harry is dead – harry, one of her first friends, harry, who named his daughter after her, harry, who she loved. friendship is something incredibly important to luna — she painted the faces of her first ones on her bedroom wall, once — and when he died, she got scared by how grief took a hold of her. the first time she lost someone that significant to her, she was much younger, you see, and dealing with shock & trauma as well. this time, she was an adult, settled and grown up. she is more aware of her grief, and that is TERRIFYING.

she’s also less passive in her mourning. before, she was a kid. family friends visited and her father was on her side. now, she’s a parent, a friend; she visits the kids of friends in stead and sticks on ginny’s and everyone else’s side, in stead. luna might come across unfazed or disconnected from her pain, as she talks about it like she is, but she is not: she has her own way of mourning (as everyone does) and she can say some really Truthful and Raw shit at times.

she misses him so much. that’s what it boils down to. she misses him so fucking much. [ end of tws ]

of course she helps reinstate the order. there’s no question about it. luna doesn’t feel like a revolutionist or a soldier, but she does know how to fight, and she does know what is right. she’s good at strategy and defense, mostly, and at keeping spirits high and offering new perspectives.

so here we have luna: a parent, a fighter on the frontlines, a friend. she’s determined. she’s horribly saddened. she’s still herself, despite everything.

personality & tidbits

i think i already touched on this but i think it never hurts to repeat yourself so --- luna is a more grounded individual, at this point. she still has her head in the clouds, but her feet are standing solidly on the ground. she’s a dreamer, yes, but more of a realist, too. ( nothing like one of your best friends dying to make you realise how shit the world is, after all. ) luna isn’t very different from the luna we know in canon, but she’s matured. she’s more. she’s gone through a lot of positive development.

luna is constantly and always in awe of the friends and family she has, especially because she was so lonely for the biggest chunk of her youth. she’s extremely loyal and defensive of them.

luna is agender and has been aware of this for ... most of her life, really? she thinks gender is a big old construct and one she doesn’t want to apply to herself. if others do, she of course doesn’t mind or judge --- she’s veyr openminded when it comes to gender and sexuality. she prefers both she/her and they/them pronouns --- sometimes she doesn’t mind which one people use, and sometimes she will prefer one over the other.

is good at trying to keep up morale without it being an escapist ... kind of situation? offers fresh perspectives a lot, likes being a positive force and yes, sometimes it is easier to focus on the positive, and she will, then.

she really loves the stars and moon and astronomy and astrology!!! wow!!!!!!!

wears iconic outfits and we ALL know it

idk what more to write ive already written so MUCH

possible plots

first of all? i would love someone who can be kind of a mentee? because fuck yeah? i love that? any other magizoologists in this building that need some mentoring? hit me up!!!!

same goes for the quibbler, if your character somehow writes for the quibbler, hmu? i think xeno is still the editor but lbr the man is OLD

fellow trio era characters should hit me up so we can talk about the good old school days and CRIE

order members that are ?????????????????? at luna, that are a bit skeptical, etc etc?

fellow art buds

death eaters that want 2 eliminate her ig lets angst this up

idk luna is fairly easy to plot with so just hmu and we can figure something out!!!!

#iidyintro #another repost from Maaaaaaar

[lostinyourears]

Arena Mexico Super Friday ‘Universal Tournament’ Block B Report! 02/08/2019

Principe Diamante & Robin vs. Metalico & Nitro

Who’s who?

Principe Diamante in white/blue, Robin in red/white.

Metalico maskless, Nitro with fluffy mask.

How’s the match?

Fine, Principe seemed like he was trying pretty hard in all of his offense, but it wasn’t enough to make this better or even as good as most Friday Night opening matches. Robin looks like he got hurt in the latter stages of this match, right near the end. He seemed to be limping a little, hopefully it’s nothing too major. If he is shelved, it’s not like he is doing much or slotted for a big position any time soon.

Drone, Rey Cometa & Black Panther vs. Misterioso Jr., Okumura & Universo 2000 Jr.

Who’s who?

Drone in white, Cometa in blue and Panther in black.

Misterioso in green mask, Universo in silver mask and Okumura in orange.

How’s the match?

Good, this isn’t more than what you’d expect from these guys, but was still fun for what it was, the second match of the weekly show. I like most of these guys, but there just lacked any real drama here. Misterioso has been racking up wins lately and seems like a rudo who could have a midcard mask match at Homage to 2 Legends vs. a Panther brother or even vs. the hair of Rey Cometa? Doubt that’s what is happening here, but wouldn’t rule it out either. 

Atlantis, Atlantis Jr. & Mistico vs. Villano IV, Hijo del Villano III & Gran Guerrero

Who’s who?

Atlantis & Jr. in the iconic white mask, son without top, Mistico in blue.

Villanos in pink, III without top, Gran in red.

How’s the match?

Very good, I continue to enjoy the heat between Villanos and Atlantis. It’s a good feud which will have to come to a head. With nothing else happening just yet for Homage to 2 Legends build it makes one wonder if this is the plan. Plenty of people will say both Atlantis Jr. and Hijo del Villano III are too green and Villano IV and Atlantis are too old of a pairing to do a main event of the caliber that Homage to 2 Legends demands. Perhaps a tag team match? Which would sadly mean Hijo del Villano III would probably be losing his mask very early in his career, but that might be a good choice for him since his brother Villano III Jr. in AAA is using the same mask and a very similar name. This story being so hot so quick has me wondering if that’s an option. Both Mistico/Gran Guerrero did great in this match as well, even if they weren’t the focus. 

Rush, Bestia del Ring & Gilbert el Boricua vs. Caristico, Angel de Oro & Valiente

Who’s who?

Rush/Bestia dressed alike like always. Rush the younger of the two being Bestia’s son and Gilbert in red shirt and hair. 

Caristico in white/masked, Oro in gold & Valiente in blue.

How’s the match?

Good, this is a pretty stock ingobernable brawl though. Here instead of Terrible we had Gilbert, which isn’t the worst replacement. Gilbert actually did pretty good here even if like most of his CMLL appearances he didn’t leave much of an impression outside of a back and forth with Angel de Oro. He needs a faction or an ally of somesort. I hope that faction isn’t ingobernables, just because I don’t think it’d help him stand out. Cl4n seemed like a place for him, but that stable has up and disappeared from CMLL and doesn’t seem like it’ll be back any time soon... since they didn’t really impress in late 2018. 

Seeding Battle Royal

Ultimo Guerrero vs. Diamante Azul Block Quarter Final

Who’s who?

Ultimo in green/black & Azul in blue. 

How’s the match?

Good, Diamante Azul got his shit in here and made it pretty obvious he wouldn’t be going on to the next round. Despite unloading on Ultimo Guerrero, Azul succumbed to Ultimo Guerrero’s submission Pulpo Guerrero. This was a good showing for Diamante Azul and would be a good short match to show Diamante Azul’s best spots including the off the entry ramp running senton. 

Soberano Jr. vs. Cuatrero Block Quarter Final

Who’s who?

Soberano Jr. in blue & Cuatrero in black/white.

How’s the match?

Great, this might be my favorite match from the tournament. CMLL does some magic with this and other block matches tonight. Nothing went over 6 minutes, but many of these felt like full matches, despite the short times for each. I loved seeing these two throw down in a singles match. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the only time we see them one on one in 2019, as both seem like they will continue to hold their single belts and thus don’t have a good reason to fight one another, instead taking on other challengers for their belts.  

Niebla Roja vs. Mephisto Block Quarter Final

Who’s who?

Roja in red, no mask & Mephisto in a silver mask.

How’s the match?

Good, one of my least favorite matches of this tournament. Mephisto got his muscle buster and demon wings in, but for the most part Niebla Roja fleeced him and got into the next round rather easily. Having an answer for everything Mephisto tried and drowning him out with offense. 

Sanson vs. Volador Jr. Block Quarter Final

Who’s who?

Sanson with mask, Volador without. 

How’s the match?

Very good, I was pulling hard for Sanson here and for much of the match it seemed like he would pull the upset by taking Volador Jr. out in the 1st round. That didn’t happen, but Sanson looked strong here in defeat. The ending sequence here went off wrong though, I assume Volador Jr. was suppose to roll-up Sanson after his finisher so they just redid the spot and it seemed off. 

Ultimo Guerrero vs. Cuatrero Block Semi-Final

Who’s who?

Ultimo in green/black & Cuatrero masked in black/white.

How’s the match?

Great, Cuatrero jumped Ultimo Guerrero to start this and basically did everything he could to take out the pillar of CMLL. Ultimo was getting smacked around the ring by the younger rudo who has been on a roll since January of 2018 when he took the belt that allowed him to be in this tournament from Angel de Oro at FantasticaMania. It’s a shame he didn’t go on here, but I’m content with him losing. I love Guerrero Special and dropping a loss to it isn’t anything to be ashamed of, with it looking great here. 

Niebla Roja vs. Volador Jr. Block Semi-Final

Who’s who?

Roja in red, Volador in gold/green.

How’s the match?

Good, Roja got jumped which seems a bit silly since the last match started the same way. Overall this was a pretty uneventful match with the big moment coming when Niebla Roja took out Volador Jr. to the shock of everyone. Once Ultimo went on it seemed almost certain Volador Jr./Ultimo Guerrero would be the block final. 

Ultimo Guerrero vs. Niebla Roja Block Final

Who’s who?

Ultimo in green/black and Roja in red. 

How’s the match?

Great, Niebla Roja was a great underdog babyface in this block and had to take out some of the strongest guys in the company. Mephist, leader of demons, Volador Jr., face of the company and last Universal Tournament winner and then in the block finals Ultimo Guerrero, his former leader and perhaps the strongest rudo in the company. It was a great journey capped off by beating Ultimo Guerrero in the longest match of the block. I’m so happy that Niebla Roja won as the dire outcome was Volador Jr.

I hope Niebla Roja/Terrible live up to they hype the finals of this tournament should have and do have for me. I’m hoping for a MOTYC and think the two can pull that out if they are both going at the peak levels they have reached in the past. It makes me wonder if Homage to 2 Legends will include those two in a hair match, which seems like a proper main event for that show.   

Highlights :

CMLL Super Friday 'Universal Championship Tournament Block B' Highlights 02/08/2019

#CMLL #Arena Mexico #Super Friday #Universal Tournament #Principe Diamante #Robin #Metalico #Nitro #Drone #Rey Cometa #Black Panther #Misterioso Jr. #Universo 2000 Jr. #Okumura #Bestia del Ring #Gilbert el Boricua #Rush #Caristico #Valiente #Angel de Oro #Atlantis #Atlantis Jr. #Mistico #Gran Guerrero #Villano IV #El Hijo del Villano III #Diamante Azul #Ultimo Guerrero #Cuatrero #Soberano Jr.

[cow5secondchance]

Episode 2 - Why Did People Flip - Xavier

Format: Sequester

Eliminated: Wyatt (9-3-1-1-1) || Daisy (Battle Match)

BLAKE

so! week 2 and my plan honestly is to just really still focus on my social relationships. so far, i feel very confident in my ability to connect with people on a 1 to 1 level, and at least hopefully skate through these first few weeks. consistently my problem in the game is missing out on a key group or alliance that is running more than I know. without being too chaotic and paranoid, i would really really like to try to sit here and just scope out the relationships. as for my groups! i really want to work with jennet. she's like iconic? her art is so cute and i do feel like i made a genuine connection with her early on, and i think pointing out we're some of the only award winners in the cast could bring us closer together ! plus 4th place legends... beyond jennet, i have a group with isaac and nicole, and honestly, im feeling suprisingly good about both. i think these first 6 people i mention are the ones im going to focus on most, and focus on really forming game connection wheras the rest im just socially going to really force myself into their LIVES and hope they like me! Daisy and Jarod... loves them and swifties who ive played with in the past both in a way that i feel we were unfinished. jarod got taken out in the doubles round just as we kinda connected on a game level, and then daisy and i were working together in bb netflix before it got canceled. this is really the group i want to strategize with and im really putting myself on a limb being loyal to them because i know they have options, but its a risk im willing to take because if i can be the number 1, their connections can just offer more safety and information for myself. and the final people who i kinda want to work with is captain and wiliam xavier s up there, we just havent spoken tons dont really have much of an opinion on the others? if i had to nominate right now it might be mario just because we havent spoken yet.

XAVIER

It's annoying to be nominated, especially by Jennet. Literally two minutes before we were talking and I was explaining how this round is played. And then Jennet nominates me. I feel betrayed. Getting my G4ce together (Greenhouse 4) so we can vote as a team. And well, well, well, I just found out that the Sequester 4 are also voting together. It is weird that they are all nominated during the Sequester round. They are targeting either Wyatt or Kaleigh. Knowing they are a team, I want one of them out, if I can swing it quietly.

NICOLE

HI I’m back and already went through a ton! Last round a misunderstanding / Lanie throwing me under the bus just because I said I hadn’t spoken to Nyx and Captain really set me up in a weird spot so I had to get rid of Lanie and then she said we all suck (imagine being almost 30 and telling someone who is your students age that they suck! I get it really is terrible to be blindsided but it was her fault, she played too fast! Like yell at me for not communicating properly or whatever she believed I did at that point but don’t take it out on everyone especially like the youngest player in the game!) Anyway, this round is sequester so we are all back together! I finally get to play with Daisy! I love her so much so I’m super glad we got to play, I’m very glad I get to reunite with Lindsay, I’m glad William isn’t mad at me for the whole Lanie situation and now I’m safe for the first vote! It is a very good feeling but I also feel like I should be learning from Lanie’s mistake and playing not fast so I’m trying to take a step back from talking in the house chat. I’m just so excited to see everyone but I will try to contain myself so I don’t annoy anyone. Check back in later in the round!!!

BLAKE

I forget the questions omg but I had a call with Jarod where he kinda threw out wyatts name as an option to go, and honestly I’m completely fine with that because even though they seem super sweet, I feel like I’m juggling enough balls and I don’t need to add them into my mix, whereas I feel a lot better about every other nominee other than Kaleigh, who I don’t think anybody would do this early My strategy is to just campaign for myself to stay to everybody and avoid throwing out names. I’m hoping that comes from Jarod or one of the safe people because they literally have the safety to get away with it 

XAVIER

I like video confessionals. The only alliance of 4 should be Greenhouse

CAPTAIN

hello dr.. so i'm glad i got saved by jarod :pleading_face: he rlly said i'm gonna make captain safe no matter what happens. and thats exactly what he did :100: for ppl who are vulnerable, i want autumn, jarod and xavier to be safe the most like idc i just want 3 of them to be safe. xavier might be in a bit of trouble tho since the totem pole ppl are voting together for sure hmmm so i need to try to talk to them to sway them from voting xavier. for the plans to avoid battle match? idk i just want them to feel safe around me no matter what. so that if i end up voting them, they're not gonna be bitter at me that much. and i lowkey saved myself with wyatt since wyatt said they wanted to work with me so prays.

__________

also, i secured an alliance with jarod, autumn and jennet. and a greenhouse alliance with mario, nyx and xavier. the latter hasn't been in the talk like with every greenhouse yet but xavier brought it up to me and i think that it should be great. so fingers crossed!

WILLIAM

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO, going into Round 2 im having a really big struggle..... im seeing  THAT I DONT DISLIKE A SINGLE PERSON ON THIS CAST, USUALLY THERE IS AT LEAST ONE BUT NOPE    Also we are moving into a Sequester sorta semi safety chain with half vulnerable and half safe cast and lucky me I think Lanie either hated me the most or the least from our Survivor team and decided to give me the Karma twist which gave me safety for the round but made me have to pick the first unsafe out of the whole cast. I think my strategy was to pick someone who didn't talk to me yet (so i had a reason) as well as someone who was sorta loved by most if not all and wasn't a target for it, because I'm thinking if I just fade into the background this round no one would have a need or want to pick me for the Battlematch, i think its safe to assume whoever goes home will pick the person who made them unsafe plus like one other person, so i just have to avoid being that other 1/13 people. As for the vote i have no clue at all, I think maybe Isaac cause i haven't said much to him at all, or maybe Jarod cause i know he is hella busy and prob wont pick me to go into battle..... just not Wyatt or Blake or Kaleigh rn.  So like yeah, just gonna pray, not talk around too too much, let people come to me so it doesnt seem like im pushing anyones name and hopefully vote someone i dont love out. yeah so much fun xoxo William F

NYX

So, this round is pretty confusing and difficult to navigate cause not only do we have to vote someone out we have to vote someone out and hope they don't drag us into the battleback. I'm very happy to be safe for the vote since at least then i'll have a chance to battleback in a comp. So, for this vote I can't vote Autumn since she gave me safety, I can't vote Jarod since he took one for the team, I can't vote Xavier cause of the gh alliance, I can't vote Blake due to our bonding on tau ceti, so my only real options for this vote are Isaac, Wyatt, and Kaleigh. If I had my way i'd just pile the votes on wyatt and get them out now but it's not that easy because i haven't talked as much and they could see that as incentive to drag me in. Of course all the people I just mentioned I don't wanna vote for I wanna save because that means they'll be willing to work with me to some capacity. To avoid the battle match is the hardest part cause people can be very impulsive with their decisions and heat of the moment always catches people off guard. My best bet is just not to make too many promises and to just tell the truth and hopefully that'll be enough to gain their respect. 

CAPTAIN

besties.. i don't know what i'm doing. its between wyatt and kaleigh methinks but wyatt keeps dropping my name everywhere and i don't really like it. idk if they get eliminated, if they would put me in the battle or not. but like if they're this messy, i'm voting them for sure. also sobs kaleigh is so cute.

__________

prays for me DR! sign: captain.

LINDSAY

bro no one wants to throw out a name because of the battle drag twist so it's three hours to tribal and i dont know who the fuck to vote my gut is telling me jarod but i am absolutely not letting jarod drag that shit back to me definitely not autumn i dont know like. i'm working the tightest with william, daisy and wyatt weirdly enough and none of us have heard anything so i just. ?????

MARIO

I AM SAFE!!! I AM NOT SECOND BOOT AGAIN

AUTUMN

IT WONT LET ME PUT AUDIO FILES IN!!! But when Monty puts them all together later this season I hope yall enjoy haha

XAVIER

Ok this vote is messy. It started out with Jarod and the Sequester group wanting to vote Kaleigh. They got people on board, and it looked good. Until Wyatt made that alliance chat. And of course the vote shifted to Isaac. But the Sequester group won't vote Isaac. Mario voted Autumn. Captain voted Wyatt. I am voting Kaleigh because I haven't spoken to her much. But I want the vote to go Isaac's way - it breaks up Sequester, and he won't think it was me, so safe from the battle. So it may be 5 on Kaleigh, unless the other people in that Alliance chat are not being honest as well. Ha ha. As long as it's not me, right?!

LINDSAY

wyatt made a voting block?? and didn't include me?? the person with no connection to isaac who they kept safe and would have probably voted with them???? wh ok i guess my vote is on wyatt tonight tf 

NYX

So, this round is a clusterfuck of scrambling cause no one wants to get pulled into the battleback and potentially lose there. I just don't wanna go home even earlier than last time because my game has just been so much better and to lose it this way would be fucking devastating. i just want to win so badly so im just hoping i can maneuver this right

LINDSAY

"you know that this is anonymous right" DAISY HELP NO I DIDNT FUCK OK I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING WHAT IS HAPPENING WHERE AM I

XAVIER

WHAT JUST HAPPENED. I know Captain voted for Wyatt. Maybe Captain is more influential than I thought? Why did people flip? Because of the alliance chat? It was too much? And why wasn't I included in the flip vote? Agh. Time to make my own rules here.

__________

I am still shookt 

DAISY

#cowsecondchance #episodes

[sorikkung]

You did an intro to got7 a while ago could you maybe do one for A.C.E.??? They seem like a good group but I'm clueless atm so it would be v helpful!!!

lololol i did an intro to mark from got7 but not got7 as a whole, but yes ofc i will i love my talented bois and i love rambling about them heRE WE G O

an introduction to a.c.e, for dummies (jk ily choice is a great fandom pls join us)

also this is gonna get rlly long so im gonna put it under a cut

A.C.E is a 5-member boygroup under beat interactive!! which is a p small company atm so my boys dont exactly have the high quality living and practice areas and food that they deserve :(( THEYLL GET THERE THO IM SURE OF IT THEYRE LEGENDS

here’s their youtube channel with aaaaall sorts of goodies

i started stanning a.c.e predebut, bc they had a lot of content for a group that hadn’t debuted yet, and it was enough to snatch my attention real quick so you should check that shit out, they did a shitton of AMAZING covers and to get their name out there more, street buskings its a lot but i swear its worth your time theyre so talented!!

also they have matching tracksuits what more could you ask for tbh (as you can see from that vid, they’re literally so fucking extra)

a few of my favs are

this rlly long busking video w girl group songs and just a bit of everything tbh,

THIS amazing remix/cover of kard’s don’t recall by the rap line + this one cute girl,

only THE most iconic playing w fire cover, band version, (I WILL NEVER STOP SCREAMING ABOUT THAT VIDEO HONESTLY I COULD MAKE A POST ON THAT COVER ALONE ISTG) 

their flashlight cover that is enough to make a grown man cry omfuckigngOD it makes me feel things hjskskkh

that ONE TAKE dance cover they did of 3 of taeyangs songs, all focusing on a different member of the dance line

im gonna stop here before i link every damn cover they made

okay so now that thats covered (bad-um-tss) time for…DEBUT

THIs beauty right here is their debut song cactus, which has this really deep meaning to it. bc they came from a small company so they have to work extra hard to even be able to debut let alone be successful and they’re like a cactus bc cacti grow in the desert where there’s very little water but they still manage to stand strong even through the hardest of weather an environment conditions and eventually sprout beautiful flowers,, buuuuuut its also a meme for obvious reasons.

tbh debut era choice culture was just listening to cactus on repeat for days bc it was their only song at the time skjslaas not much has changed tbh LMAO but yes theyre a very edm loving group so their DANCE SKILLS ARE ON POINT SERIOUSLY IVE SEEN FEW GROUPS AS AMAZING AT DANCING AS ACE WOWOW

oh yeah did i mention that their fandom name is choice and that choice are literally the softest fandom my multifandom ass has e v e r been in?? theres literally no cringy or toxic side of the fandom its just so soft and welcoming and pure and everyone is so nice and sweet and friendly and just??? wow i love choice a lot hjkskjsshkhk choice are also SUPER talented too stan talent stan choice

speaking of cringe ace is that group that just like skipped the entire “rlly cringy boygroup debut phase” completely like no weird debut haircuts or outfits or weird lyrics about girls, well actually thats all kinda objective but like they made those outfits work ok and im a cactus isnt that weird of a lyric if you know the deep meaning behind it

aS yOu CaN sEe, cactus era was the era of the tHIGHS and the hot pants. it was literally so iconic it blew up and with great reason too, have you seen those thighs?? AND THEY KNOW IT TOO they even mentioned they chose the hot pants as their style concept and took better care of their legs than their faces. true kings. heres a video of a.c.e talking about the whole hot pants thing and just their legs in general its some quality shit. and heres a video where they decide to show off just how great their thighs are bc they like to kill choices like that, this video is important and iconic bc its where the wowson ship began and also when they declared who the king of thighs were amongst the kings of thighs. definitely a necessary watch for new choice imo. donghun lowkey grinds on the floor at 4:04, you’ve been warned. honestly that video just gets progressively gayer lmao i love it

also for us international choice they made an ENGLISH cover of cactus CAN YOU BELIEVE IT I LOVE THEM SM they didnt have to but they did and oml stan a group who stans you back this hard their english aint that great but theyre trying and i appreciate it so much theyre so amazing look

five months later they dropped their second single, callin’, and b o y was this a stressful comeback, beat had us FOOLEd,, i genuinely thought it was gonna be a flowerboy soft concept yknow with like some sweet lowkey ballad or soft pop song, but nOOooOOOooo, MORE HARDSTYLE EDM not that im complaining callin is a bop but i was TRICKED

LOOK AT THIS SHIT ITS ALL AESTHETIC AND THE CLIP OF THE SONG WAS ALL SOFT I WAS REALLY EXPECTING SMTH SOFT im sorry im still salty that beat tricked me but ITS FINE bc callin is a HELLA BOP like i honestly didnt expect them to top cactus so quickly bc like cactus was hella but they DID and its amazing and heres the link be blessed (warning, these gifs above make it look like a soft vid but there are LOTS of flashing colours and lights and its really intense on the eyes if youre not comfortable with that dont watch, just listen)

they also supplied multiple dance pracs you can find on their channel for callin bc ace feeds us well, although callin had a reaaaally short promotion period bc right after they got thrown onto survival shows for more publicity, but hey, its working!! choice is growing bigger every day and im so proud

donghun, wow and jason all went on yg’s show mixnine, and jun and chan went on the idol rebooting show, the unit. both teams are doing EXTREMELY well on their respective shows!! but ill talk more about that in their individual member profiles bc they havent been put on the same team for anything yet rip

edit: mixnine finished and donghun and jason made the cut for the final group, sehyoon didn’t :(( so dongson will be promoting with the mixnine group for a lil bit!! also chan made it to the unit debut group but jun didnt. im hoping for a sehyjun subunit pls

that was long af but now im gonna dive into the members individually!! so its probs gonna get twice as long sorrynotsorry i warned you

Jun (Park Junhee)

jun is the so-called fiery leader of ace (also lead dancer and lead vocal) but is honestly just a giant dork and a sweetheart. hes the type of guy who you scream at for being dumb and call him an idiot but thats your weird way of expressing your undying love for him?? ask literally any jun stan, they’ll say they hate him. hate him for being so PERFECT like a fucking DISNEY PRINCE he’s the designated prince of the group you know theres always that one member and hes just so LOVEABLE and stupid and skjdakhkjs he fuckign dropped his cake on his birthday when do your faves ever. dad of the group, probably lost the maknaes in the shopping mall about 3 times already. talks a lot, hates aegyo, his members might be planning on sacrificing him to satan? he does on idol class with chan every…i think its wednesday and fans vote who gets punishments n stuff and jun loses every damn time i think hes losing his faith in choice lmao. #saveleaderjun

he’s kinda married to donghun, they’re the parents of ace but donghun might try murder him in his sleep idk man, but now hes on the unit with chan and theyre all cute and you can literally ship everyone with everyone in this group

he has HELLA charisma on stage tho oh my gOd also he has one of the most unique singing voices ive ever heard so its really easy to single out, his face also is the first i learned to tell apart?? he has rlly high cheekbones and a wide but thin smile.

this is actually an ot5 video not just jun but jun’s reaction was by far the most iconic so i have to put it in his section, get you a fave who can FLY lmaooo

it would be CRIMINAL if i didnt solo out jun’s ringa linga cover, thE MOST ICONIC JUN COVER EVER HJFKDSJKFDSJK if i ever stop talking about this assume im dead bc IVE NEVER GOTTEN OVER IT jun in a leather jacket looking all rude and staring at the camera like that im WEAK, SO WEAK, AAAAAAAAHHHH

[ahem] MOVING ON

Donghun (Lee Donghun)

donghun, sometimes romanised as donghoon and often referred to by choice as hun or hoon, is the oldest member of the group and another total sweetheart, honestly ace is just a group of sweethearts, he cares for his members so damn much and is super soft?? but ALSO A s Av Age he’s on mixnine with sehyoon and jason and he SHOT DOWN YG, once again I C O N I C, yg was at a loss for words, heres more receipts of him being savage, i love my sassy boyfriend. BUT HES ALSO A SWEET NOODLE HJKSHJKS oH and did you know that before he joined a.c.e he had no experience in dancing whatsoever and in a year and a half, he caught up with the other four members that have been dancing since they were kids?? I STAN TALENT YALL you’d literally never be able to guess that bc all of them are like on an equal dance level its insane

also he used to have braces during cactus era and it was the softest shit

[cOUGHS] so like did someone say disrespect,,, bc he can do that too,,,,, aAAAAAAAH the duality of this man istg

he’s the main vocalist and has vO C AL S OF AN A N GEL, he has so much soul and emotion in his voice, and has adlibs for days oh my god, he also has the MOST BEAUTIFUL FALSETTO i’ve ever heard, fight me, actually come at me. his voice works REALLY well with chan so they pair him up with him for quite a handful of covers like the all of me one i linked (one of my favs omfg it makes me emo) cause like, his soulful voice plus chan’s higher, sweet voice just sounds so great together i love our main vocals wow.

sPEAKING OF WOW,

Wow (Kim Sehyoon)

his stage name is wow, but its hard to take seriously so the fandom just calls him sehyoon lmfao. it used to be seyoon but when he went on mixnine, he revealed sehyoon was the official romanization so here we are lmao. even if your bias isn’t sehyoon…it’s sehyoon. he’s just that guy ya feel me?? anyways sehyoon is a relatively quiet and reserved guy, but his members really pull out the dork in him, i love it so much?? he doesn’t talk much but when he does all of a.c.e directs their full attention to him to listen, its really sweet, hes pretty awkward with people but you can tell he just feels so safe and comfortable with ace it honestly warms my heart. he’s the main rapper and main dancer, but!! our multitalented man is also a vocalist. yes, you heard, me, the main rapper can sing, and really well at that. (if you scroll up back to the flashlight and dont recall covers, you can see more of his voice.)

gets the least lines, but not by much. although hearing his singing voice in their actual songs has happened like with 2 lines?? so idk man im just waiting for their ballad song that theyre apparently doing for their third song, god im so ready. i love his voice a lot, damn.

he’s also like reeeeeeeeeally gay for jason…the entire fandom ships it and they even ship it themselves. wowson, the otp of ace, they honestly just cant keep their hands off eachother??? i know a friend who struggled to tell apart jun and jason so she just looked at who sehyoon was standing next to and instantly knew it was jason. THEYRE SO CLINGY. i love my squishy boyfriends. 

OHHH BOY…i really could’ve used an even more disrespectful gif than this but that would ruin the surprise of watching it in the actual video!! as you can see, sehyoon is the K I N G of disrespect on stage, that shy lil fluffle bean you see offstage?? GONE. DISAPPEARED. VANISHED. this is why his stage name is wow, sehyoon disappears and you just go wow. choice has dubbed him king of bodyrolls with great reason, he makes every concept into a sexy concept, he just has that intimidatingly sexy aura to him, its incredible. 

now…are you ready….i bet youre not…who am i kidding NOBODY was ready for this shit. on mixnine, sehyoon was picked as leader for one of their stages (i think he was leader for ringa linga too??) and got to choreograph the routine. if you think its already rude 10 seconds in, its all over for you bitches when the lighting goes yellow. i feel the need to repeat, our boy CHOREOGRAPHED THIS. IT WAS ALL HIS IDEA. EVERY. SINGLE. PART. this is the same kid who everyone on the show knew as the shy, quiet, handsome boy. but then. 

but then he did this.

Jason (Kim Byeongkwan)

jason is his stage name that he chose for himself but his real name is byeongkwan, its another case of an idol having a stage name and nobody calling them by it?? i mean most new choice call him jason and i personally switch between the two but most choice seem to call him byeongkwan or bk if theyre extra lazy lmao. memers call him byonk sometimes.

jason is the weird child of the group and we all love him…he’s the second lil ball of sunshine and part ½ of the maknae line. he’s often found clinging to sehyoon or literally any of the members bc he’s an affectionate son who loves cuddles okay?? p r o t e c t   h i m.

he’s also the lead everything. yeah thats really not fair but jason is op ok?? singing, rapping, dancing, visual, like sehyoon he’s the full package, i can hardly call them the rap line they’re just the op line t b h. triple threats.

on their official twt jason likes to confirm wowson a lot, its p great lololol he’s the biggest wowson shipper of all time. want more wowson? i gotchu, here’s one of my absolute fav moments. (ft. junchan/chun)

he has some HELLA CHARISMA on stage like boy can u pls chill. they also love doing his eye makeup with that red makeup and it looks rlly good bc bk has such pretty eagle eyes and its his Look™ and that along with his onstage persona is a DEADLY COMBINATION HDSJKSKSLKJS 

i’m just gonna keep this short; even if your bias isnt byeongkwan, your bias is byeongkwan. he has that affect on everybody. number one bias wrecker out of the fandom t b h apart from sehyoon (he cant be my bias wrecker if he is my bias so im safe :^J)

Chan (Kang Yuchan)

INTRODUCING OUR CHANSHINE, MAIN VOCAL OF ACE, CUTIE MAKNAE CHAN!!!! he always introduces himself as a.c.e’s main vocal cutie maknae chan, its his iconic line and it suits him so well like LOOK AT HIM ISNT HE JUST A FUCKING RAY OF SUNSHINE WHAT A PURE CHILD I MUST PROTECC he’s literally the happy virus y’all AND ACE KNOWS IT TOO heres this one time where donghun even said that looking at chan cheers him up. certified sunshines only, everyone. also watch that whole video its long but its worth your time.

anyways our boy is a main vocal and as mentioned in donghun’s part they harmonize!!! so!! well!! i mean tbh all of ace can harmonize with eachother its the most beautfiul thing but these two are main vocal for a reason okay. if you didn’t already watch it in donghun’s part listen to THIS and have your ears be blessed i cry everytime oh my god skdfhd ALSO THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT ITS LIKE ONE OF MY FAVOURITE VIDEOS ON THE INTERNET i want to cry i lvoe chans voice so much i love chan i love kang yuchan og hmylhdg sodf i was gonna say i swear im sehyoon biased but im not istg ace is bias wrecking me 24/7 its been the hardest group to pick a bias in ever im not kidding i cant even

also known as kang RUDE, chan was all innocent sunshine and daisies until out of the blue he decided to give the disrespect king sehyoon a run for his fucking money. NOBODY FUCKING SAW IT COMING WE ALL THOUGHT HE WAS SO PURE AND THEN HE SUDDENLY STARTED FLASHING HIS ABS EVERYWHERE AND GRINDING ON THE FLOOR AND DOING THAT AND WE JUST CANT HANDLE IT i dont know a kang yuchan please save me oh my lord

okay this already has an ungodly amount of links and honestly i could go on, but this should be a good enough kickstart for you!!

stan talent stan a.c.e everyone. welcome to the choice family. its literally the softest and sweetest fandom out there. we welcome you with open arms and lots of cacti!!!

#the-parting-gllass #ive been procrastinating finishing this for god knows how long #i got this ask weeks ago #made half the guide in one day #then forgot about it #lmao #i hope it was satisfactory #a.c.e #ace #ace7 #kpop #ace kpop #guide to ace #ace for dummies #jun #junhee #park junhee #donghun #lee donghun #wow #ace wow #kim sehyoon #sehyoon #jason #byeongkwan #kim byeongkwan #chan #yuchan #kang yuchan #ace jun

[persephones24]

Not Women Enough: Part 2

Request: Would you be able to do a pet 2 to Not Women Enough where the reader gets pregnant again but doesn't tell Spencer in case she loses the baby but then something happens and she goes to the hospital and he finds out? Idk something a long those lines 😂 I just really loved the first one -Anon

Pairing: Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2177

A/N: Sorry that it is taking me so long to write request. Writing is indeed hard, but don’t worry they are being done. Just at a slower pace.

It has been almost a year since you had your miscarriage. A year since your world spiraled upside down and the perspective of yourself was shattered to nothing. Over the months, you have been struggling with your emotions. Lashing out at Spencer or whoever came near you when you were grieving. You blamed yourself for the miscarriage. Thought of you doing something wrong for it to be this way. Or If only you were happier about the pregnancy, then you would have had your little bundle of joy.

You stayed at home, not leaving the comforts of your bed. You called your job, telling them the situation at hand, they empathized with you, understanding that you needed time to cope with your lost. For the first month, Spencer took some time off to take care of you, he knew that you will be in a vulnerable state and that losing a child can cause depression. And not knowing what could happen, how your emotions can go out of control in the blink of an eye.

Spencer grieved in his own way, and that was giving you all the attention that you need. It was the little things that he did that got you through. Making you dinner, drawing you a bath, giving you massages when needed. He was patient with you, he listened to you when you cried out your sorrow, your longing for giving him a child, of you not being women enough to keep a baby to term. And every time he gathered you into his arms, his hands stroking back your hair, his face tucked into the crook of your neck.

And he would hold you.

Not saying a word, but letting his embrace be enough to get you through.

He doesn’t know what it feels like to lose a child. And he never will. But all he can do is be there for you. Wanting you to know that he is here for you, that he will always be here for you.

Your emotional state became better. After a month and a half of grieving, you became antsy, wanting to get back to work. And after a discussion with your husband, you both agreed that you are ready to get back to your regular schedule.

You went back to work and you are grateful for the distraction. Your coworker excitedly welcomed you back with hugs, giving you words of encouragement that you will have your little bundle of joy someday.

And with all your heart, you hoped that it will happen.

But not this soon.

You sat in your office bathroom, staring at the little stick in your hand. Two pink lines visible. Almost screaming at you.

You’re pregnant. Again.

This is the eighth test you took in the last week and you still couldn’t believe the results. Not even a full year yet. And you secretly haven’t gotten over your miscarriage.

How did this happen? Well, you obviously knew how it happened. After almost six months of not having sex with Spencer, you decided to surprise him, buying a very sexy and very expensive lingerie from Victoria Secrets. When he came home after a long case, you waited for him on your shared bed, wearing a black garter belt and a corset to match. His mouth dropped open, dropping his messenger bag at the doorway. You didn’t need to say anything, in a blink of an eye, he was on you, ripping off the lacy fabric to get to your wet heat. He took you from all different positions, your love making lasting well into the morning.

It’s been like that ever since. Whenever he comes home, you would wrap your legs around his waist and let him take control. Sex in the bedroom, the bathroom, living room and even the kitchen. Fucking on every surface in your home. In the morning, your mouth around his throbbing cock, waking him up as throaty moans came out of his mouth. His hands always migrating to your hair, guiding you along his shaft. He never protested, until Aaron complained about him arriving late, now you can only do it when he doesn’t have work that day. But it doesn’t keep him from giving you the same treatment.

You can’t pinpoint a day when you two conceived. And now that you think about it, you can’t remember when you had your last period. Oh god, this is all too much.

Putting the pregnancy test in the back pocket of your pants, you left the bathroom, making your way back to your desk.

What are you going to do? How are you going to tell the love of your life that you are pregnant again? Telling him and then finding out that you had another miscarriage could break him.

Keeping it a secret for this long was torture. And you have a feeling that he is about to find out. Being married to a profiler who can read you like an open book can be difficult when you’re trying to keep a secret. But so far he hasn’t shown any signs of knowing about the pregnancy.

You sat at your desk spaced out, until you heard a very distant voice call your name.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you alright?” Blinking a couple of times, your focused your gaze on your office friend, Ryan, his hazel eyes looking at you with confusion and concern. You put a fake smile on your face, turning your gaze back to the work in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” Your phone vibrated on your desk. You picked it up, noticing the little message icon. Spencer wanted to know if you wanted to go to lunch together.

Your stomach did summersaults, how are you even going to tell him about the pregnancy without thinking the horrible thoughts you had. You know he will not leave you over something like this, but just the thought of it happening breaks your heart.

Sending off a quick reply, agreeing to meeting him for lunch, you lay your phone back down on your desk. You mentally made the decision to tell him the truth when you see him today. Gathering up papers to go off to the printer.

“Y/N, you have been saying that for almost a week, you haven’t been yourself for a while. Is everything alright at home.”

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration taking over your gestures. You don’t have time for people pestering you right now. You don’t have time for anything right now, you just want to go home and wrap yourself in your blankets and wait for Spencer to come home.

“Ryan. Please. I am fine.”

“You don’t look it. You look more sick each day.” He leaned against your desk, crossing his arms, his eyes scanning over your features for a sign of anything that could be off. “Look I’m just worried okay. After the incident, you became very distant. You think no one noticed but I did. I just want to make sure that you are alright.”

“Ryan for the last time, I am fine. Trust me, if something was wrong, I would let you know.” He stared at you, looking deeply into your eyes. You kept a straight face, just like Spencer, Ryan is good at reading people’s reaction and body language, which makes it even harder for you to keep anything to yourself. After a few beats, he nods his head, his shoulders visibly relaxing. You let out a breath, picking up a stack of papers.

“Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” You stood up, a little too fast, and became dizzy. You tried to grab hold on to something solid, but fell to the floor, the sound of your name mixed in with a few screams became muffled until you saw black.

Spencer burst through the hospital doors, rushing towards the receptionist. He was at work, getting ready to meet you for lunch when he received the phone call from you work saying that you have fainted. Morgan drove him to the hospital, stating that he is not in the right mind to be driving. They were driving to the hospital, Spencer rubbing his hands on his knees, the nerves setting in again. Morgan glanced over, noticing the nervousness he is showing.

“Reid, you need to calm down, Man.”

“I can’t. What if something is wrong?” He sighs deeply, a hand running over his face. “She has never been the same after losing the baby. And I know you can’t pinpoint on these things but she still has been depressed about the loss. She thinks that I don’t know but I have noticed the changes in her. She was barely eating for the last week. And she has been more distant. I thought she was getting better but I was wrong.”

“Look Reid. Your wife lost a child. A child that has been growing inside her for almost three months. She went through morning sickness and hormones. She imagined herself living a life with you and your child. Then suddenly, those dreams were snatched away from her in a single night. That is something that is not easy to get over. Even if she physically looks like she coped with the loss, emotionally, she is still hurting like it was new.”

Spencer looked out the window, contemplating what Morgan said.

“I know but… she should have confided in me. She should know that I will always be there for her.”

Morgan didn’t say anything after, letting the weight of the situation sink in. They pulled up to the entrance. Spencer hops out the car, sprinting through the double doors until he reached the receptionist desk.

“I’m looking for Y/N Reid. What room is she in?”  

“Are you a close relative?”

“I’m her husband.” The receptionist looked up at him lazily, annoyed at his frantic state. She began clicking on her computer, pulling up your information.

“She is in room 320. Just walk down this hallway and turn left. She will be in the room to the right.”

Spencer thanked the women as he sped walked down the corridor, finding the room quickly. Y/N was awake, laying in the hospital bed, a IV attached to her. Spencer took noticed to how nauseous you looked, the area under your eyes a darker color, indicating the lack of sleep you had.

“Y/N.” Your eyes met his, a new wave of tears sprung to your eyes. Spencer rushed over to you, gathering you in his arms. You immediately felt calm and safe. His presence gives you a relaxing effect, making you snuggle into his shirt. He stroked down your hair, kissing the crown.

“Y/N, are you okay? What happened?”

Before you could say what, you were planning on telling him for the past week, the doctor walked in, holding a clipboard. He took notice to Spencer.

“You’re the husband?”

“Yes. Do you know why she fainted?”

“I have really good news for you both. So, Mrs. Reid, you are pregnant, nine weeks to be exact.”

You heard a gasp leave the mouth of your husband as he went stiff. He pulled away from you slightly so he can look at your face.

“We’re pregnant.” A toothy smile graced his face, but quickly faltered into confusion when he studied your face, seeing that you didn’t share his happiness. A look of dread and fear upon your features.

“You knew about it, didn’t you?” The doctor chose this time to leave the two of you alone, feeling the tension in the room.

“How long?”

“About a week now.” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, this is not the way you wanted him to find out.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me.”

“I wanted to but I was scared. We lost our first one less than a year ago, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up when I have a miscarriage again.” Your body rocked with sobs, tearing flowing down your cheeks. Spencer wrapped you into his arms again, his arms holding you tightly to his chest, whispering comforting words into your ears. You finally quiet down, your sobs turning into quiet whimpers.

“You know the probability of you having another miscarriage is two percent.” Parting away, you stared at him as he wiped your tears away.

“Two percent.”

“Yeah.”

“So… I’m not going...”

“Well, I can’t guarantee it but it highly unlikely for you to have two miscarriages in a row.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, a rush of joy overtaking you. Fresh tears came as you laugh through it. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“We’re having a baby.” You imagined this for months, dreamed about it since the first time you realized that you were in love. The smile on his face, a smile filled with joy and love as he was crying tears of joy.

“We’re having a baby.” He repeated as he leaned towards you, your lips connected in a loving kiss.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #not women enough #not women enough part 2 #fluff #angst

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

EDDIE REDMAYNE, THE MOST GIFTED OF THE NERDS

“Being an artist is not about talent, but the striving for perfection in the knowledge that you will ever reach it “

Eddie Redmayne wearing a blue total look and has an extraordinary face eyes and smile when he talks comes almost completely squeeze, you understand that he loves to quote this sentence of Red theatrical work by John Logan, in which he played a Ken White lotus worker and artist, in turn, a role which earned him numerous awards.” Those who  think that having a great talent does not involve effort they’re wrong. it’s impossible distinguish the great talents from hard work. For me they are inseparable.”

We are in London, near Borough Market, where Redmayne lives with his wife Hannah and Iris, their daughter 10 months old, and says that when he got the role of Stephen Hawking, then earned an Oscar for The Theory of Everything, there were other 5 actors to compete for that role. “  I never thought, ‘ I can do it’ but I am very interested to do” so with some modesty, when you consider the  transformation in Lily for The  Danish Girl has touched a second statuette, shifts the focus from himself and asks me If I followed the advice he gave me  the last time we met, when he suggested to go to  see a series of portraits in the National Portrait Gallery. Redmayne  often finds inspiration for his characters remaining for hours observing painting’ details  a legacy that carries the art studies at Trinity College, Cambridge, and after years of  Eton college. I need to know everything about the physicality of a character as he walks  as he eats even in bed wher he  sleeps. In a TV miniseries Elizabeth I, 10 years ago was the Earl of Southampton. To the National Portrait Gallery has exhibited a painting commissioned by himself who explain more of thousend words, how much he loved  wealth. He  had very long hair, wore rings of various shapes and was surrounded by precious objects carpets. If I had not seen that picture my acting would be much poorer, in the true sense of the  word.

Also for Fantastic Beasts  he spent whole days to observe the rhinos” I did tell the animal trainer all their idiosyncrasies” says with a tone of amazement still in his voice, he needed to immerse themselves in the shoes of  Newton scamander a magician totally dedicated to his Fantastic Beasts that studies and saves.

Eddie what comes from this extraordinary meticulousness preparation?

I have a bad imagination so I try to immerse myself in things in a more visual can. I watch different movies  more than those of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton on, I look at the paintings  to try  to pull out something interesting about how to dial a code of references that inspire me. The truth is that we specialize  to compense in our defects a lot, and we are working on eventually they become our strengths.

In this way, however, you  became the first paraplegic and then a man in search of his own female identity?

And seems that i choose these roles... they were  the result of coincidences. When you play someone who lives or has lived, and then people know you have to work a lot on the effect of actually looking for details everywhere,   I have followed the same method even when interpreted a fictitious character in Fantastic Beasts asking  J.K. Rowling  all references possible about the time, the  period in which she set the story, how   the people looked  in the New York of the time. We are literally immersed in those imaginary thing.

What’s  for you  physical transformation, skill that was the main key to the success ?

The physicality is a massive  part of than we are, but it’s just one of the aspects of my job. My  work  would be a very bad if one only looked viewer the appearance. Even if you stay in a character for 8 months, and I end up becoming a bit ’ also what I play, I like to lead a life  a  normal as possible.

Your last role, and maybe the most difficult, to be father you’re in is turning even there?

it’s too early to say that I am becoming a father, and I’m trying to keep my head above water this so. I do not sleep a lot and even my wife also in this, Also in this if I think how to act both I and Hannah trust instinct do not analyze things too much, and the way to do.

There are colleagues inspired you ?

For each role I find one other than. Maybe you don’t believe it  to become Stephen Hawking had in mind James Dean who was a revelation watching almost all his films, I knew it about icon but not his work, and has a lot to me hit even when I play with famous actors are more intrigues.

First, you talk about  Rothko assistant’s sentence  that to be an artist and to aspire to perfection, knowing that you will ever rich out.

This’s a good answer  for those who ask me “Why  you recite a play for nine months, every night, doing the same thing?” If I think the movie, one of the most frustrating aspects of my work is that although the leap of spectators we have available hundreds of “action!” for one scene actually,not much better it happens that you have in brilliant idea when filming ended’ll see you in film 9 months later and maybe you will not like it.

After the Oscar, and the last nomination, it was thought that it would have made dozens of movies, instead not. Why ?

I was  dreaming to become an actoor  since I was a child, then someone, maybe to dissuade, told me that i it would be difficult to make it a true profession. Now I can say it’s true.  Since I started doing auditions for many parts every time they called me I was going to try it. Despite having become my job, and I have had so many awards, fear of not working after never leaving me. For the last four years, while I was running The Danish girl I was going to promote The Theory of Everything and  while on the set of Fantastic Beasts every Weekend I flew to Los Angeles to promote the Danish girl. In short, for four years I didn’t have a life here so well.When I’m done Fantastic Beasts I decided to take a little ‘time for  the family and  my friends.

In the Pop Culture you are considered “a kind of modern British Avatar Style ” what’ s for you style?

Instinct, more than an calculating.Someone’s associate personality style and elegance which for me is effortlessness

Your kindness and your courtesy are disarming. It seems that embodies, where does this attitude are from ?

In the profession there is a lot of competition, you through different emotions, constantly frustration and anger, jealousy, and I think I’ve made some important experiences regarding this.  My older brother James,unlike mine, is a sports talented man from there we challenge often tennis but he did it without a real passionand and in summer we played a match after he had not touched a racket for months, leaves me coming the fifth set and just when I thought I would win  it pulled out the best of himself and beat me. I remember that my anger was mounted to the point of becoming fierce.

And what got you inside?

I noticed that emotions like rage and competitiveness, were so unpleasant that it was best to remove it. In the world is full noise coming from all directions that you should still try to offer the best of yourselves.

Soon you’ll  back on set for the sequel to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them directed by David Yate. What fascinates you the world of JK Rowling?

 Her imagination, her genius of creating worlds.

Newton Scamander’s suitcase,  the magician expelled from Hogwarts that calls himself magizoologo, contains real worlds. Instead,  what’s in your ?

Books, watercolors, to make the tremendous paintings,script, a camera, a very few  blue clothes, usually. I’m color blind and that’s the only color that stands out well. Sometimes I dress colorfully and by reaction  those who are close to me, I understand that are too showy.

#eddie redmayne #article #interview #GQ Italia #my translation #fantastic beasts and where to find them #red #the danish girl #best actor #oscar winner #Oscar Nominee #the theory of everything

[catravandece]

🐇 Check-in tag 🐇

Doing this because @joshua-beeking put it out to the universe and I am ~a whore for being known~

1. Why did you choose your url?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rmBqIFeHN8 i was living in montreal at the time so this was extra funny

2. Any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

@pommelfrog is my mxtx sideblog which i started bc i just absolutely couldn’t get over that fucking hilarious dream @deretbeshelar posted abt and had to claim the url

it’s ironic tho bc i actually don’t care so much for frogs? they feel like squishy fragile little water balloons so i always hesitate when handling them but then they leap with the force of a coursing river and scare me :(

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

i started my first blog is 2011 and boy howdy im kinda glad i accidentally deleted it in 2018 bc i went through some Phases i’d very much like to be stricken from all records. im sad abt my merlin tag tho

4. Do you have a queue tag?

lmao i dont have enough followers to care about posting schedules o(*￣▽￣*)o

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

internet addiction probably (to be fair i dont have the money to socialize outside)

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

im a slut for making myself on picrew and its pride so i switched to one with a rainbow :3

7. Why did you choose your header?

because the absolute last thing i was expecting from the 1000 Stars finale was for Chief Phupha Viriyanon to be just as clingy and shameless as Tian but it happened and i never recovered

the header photo i always have a hard time choosing bc i want everything to match so i have my sweet noodle ningning bc black matches everything uwu

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

good lord i have like zero real followers but the one time i actually factually shitposted in the modao tag it took off. everyone else apparently also thinks dad!zixuan would have been the most powerful character of mdzs so mxtx had to fridge him

honestly i was just trying to express my desire for a non-time travel related fix it fic 〒▽〒

9. How many mutuals do you have?

8

10. How many followers do you have?

56

11. How many people do you follow?

108? idk how many are dead accounts

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

my life is a shitpost and i am the meme

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

pretty often

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

i made the mistake of trying to engage with an aphobe over yuri on ice once and she made me cry.

i then gave my best friend a heart attack bc i called them and didnt explain right away what happened i just said “i did something dumb”. sorry manda /_ \

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Guilt-tripping and forcing anyone to do anything is the best way to turn people off a post. I don't approve the method. (Joshua said it best)

16. Do you like tag games?

yes i like tag games. would love to be tagged in them

17. Do you like ask games?

^^^^^^^^^^^^

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i know for a fact @wifihunters is yall should go check out bestie’s stuff owo its fucking beautiful owo

and HEY FUN STORY. so i was rly into barduil back in 2013-14 and read a bunch of fics by @piyo-13 (hi iza yes u r getting dragged into this <3) then 3 years later and 500 miles away from home guess who i find out is the fiancee of my friend from grad school????? it was the funniest fucking thing i swear to god!!! we decided “i trust u enough to give u my fandom presence” and i was like “hey that username sounds familiar” and SURE ENOUGH asjhsdjkd

the world is a very small place lmao

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah im way too small for ppl to interact with much and i need that for feelings. i did get a friend crush on someone once before but we weren’t mutuals just both in the same microfandom.

20. Tags?

anyone who ive already tagged above lmao. if u see this and get the urge to be Known pls do it and tag me!!!! i would love to read about u!!!

#it speaks #tag memes #nothing to say in the tags for once just vibin uwu

[lanesmithvisual]

The Xanax fizzled as it dropped into the whiskey wedge of worldwide rap superstar DonZilla. He stared despondently out the window of his Gulfstream-G IV as the poisoned sunset of Los Angeles sunk into the horizon.

“It’s all bullshit. I want out. I don’t want this life. My soul can’t keep feeding off pussy and Percocet. These numbskulls don’t love me, they never did. All the merch, all the music, it’s all just-“

“Save me on the sermon kid,” Marco Deodato interrupted, “I’ve heard it a thousand times. You’re just another unicorn on the carousel of false idolization that’s been spinning since the beginning of time.” He took a sip of Hennessy to nurse his splinting headache, the sleep depreciation from the graveyard shift he had spent in the Hollywood hills.

Marco was overworked and irritable, his favorite Cuban collared shirt was still stained with thousand island dressing, oatmeal, corn syrup and “Two Buck Chuck” Charles Shaw merlot. These ingredients made up the primo concoction of fake blood and vomit which he had then loaded into an archaic fire extinguisher and sprayed upon the walls of teen pop icon Sissy Sparkles estate, before dropping a false cadaver and setting the place ablaze. Just another day on the office at the Phoenix agency.

“Look Mr. Zilla,” Marco lowered his tinted square frames to lock eyes with ink stained MC, “I don’t know who the fuck or how the fuck you got my number. This is no joke, understand that now. No take-backs, you give this up, and you leave the game, you’re precious little ego ends up at the bottom of the pacific. We have a pile of parachutes and explosives in the lavatory and fishing charter lined up with some of the most talented plastic surgeons in the northern hemisphere. And that’s not even getting into your relocation program, capiche pretty boy?”

DonZilla flipped another card on his flight tray game of Devil’s Grip, medication in bubbling decay at the bottom of his bourbon. The mayday calls echoed from the cockpit to the cabin and the world watched as their beloved icon spent what could be his final hour humming in the headlines with a supposed failed primary engine.

Marco thumbed through the alligator skin briefcase of case that had been provided upon boarding. He hit at several security threads at random with a black light, and then continued, “At your price point, we only can achieve a thirty second media glitch. That portion of the service of course is non refundable, I’m on a tight schedule this week. Holiday pricing... you understand. You’ve got two minutes until we hit our sweet spot, if you could be so kind as to sign this NDA I will be slipping out the rear hatch with or without you and Captain Chaos up there. Can you believe this fucker went to Juliart?” He chuckled.

Captain Chaos, a retired Delta airlines pilot with long abandoned dreams of Broadway, was assaulting the air waves with a full production of May-Days interrupted with incoherent rants. “May Day, May Day, -and while you’re at it tell my bitch wife that anyone with eyes can tell that “my son” is a spitting image of the UPS man. And the truth is there are no rabid coyotes in Pasadena, I shot and buried that precious Terrier of hers in the backyard behind the tomato plants.”

“A little over the top if you ask me,” Marco remarked rolling his eyes, “Good help is hard to find good talent these days. Let’s get this over with Mr. Zilla, make the call.”

The deposit secured he was already disappointed with this latest gig. Another day, another appointment, and yet he could already sense his failure to stage a masterpiece of illusion. He lived in the looming shadow of the family business. How could he ever succeed his fathers’ work, the mass commercial deception of Cannibal Holocaust? The rogue relocation of Tupac to Cuba? The timeless mystique of Kurt Cobain’s staged shot gun blast? And here we was, babysitting some auto-tune hack who hardly had the gumption to go through with it, hence the two million dollar non-refundable deposit. A best practice in this line of work.

DonZilla sighed in his own thoughts, he thought of his single mother Donna, who had worked double after double at Rockie’s diner to put his first 8-Track under a dollar store, acrylic Christmas tree when was twelve. From his chest pocket he pulled a time stained Polaroid of that morning. No Red Rider BB Gun on the planet could have achieved the pimply, brace faced smile that this 8-Track did. On the backside of the Polaroid his mother had inscribed in runny ink a message from her favorite Robert Munsch children’s book, it read,

“I love you forever. I love you for always. No matter what happens, my baby you’ll be. Go get ‘em. Love, Mom.”

A tear dripped down the old English tattoo script on his cheekbone. His mind shifted to his beloved pit bulls, Mitzy and Bella who would likely end up in some Hollywood zoo with Bubbles the monkey when it was all said and done. And then he took one last glance at his Twitter, a CNN screenshot of his jet was littered with internet trolls wishes for his imminent demise accented with a sense of collective sense of good riddance. His blood began to boil...

“I’m sorry Mr. Deodato. Enjoy, I can wire you a bonus for your trouble. I’m not done. I haven’t even started.”

Marco checked his watch, “Fair enough, best of luck. Of course, the agency will have to keep tabs on you for the next three months to ensure your cooperation in our confidentiality clause. Nothing personal of course. Here comes our glitch, I must be going.” He strolled casually to the back lavatory and disappeared. A stealth emergency door and small parachute slipped off into the glowing atmosphere of pollution, power temporarily cutting as darkness and turbulence rattled the small jet.

Within the hour, DonZilla’s aircraft made an emergency landing only to be greeted by hoards of adoring fans and media teams. Scandalously clad teenie bobbers pierced the air with screaming rejoice, eyes dripping with mascara and tears at the sight of the icon stepping onto the runway.

Upon the first microphone raised to his mouth, DonZilla raised his middle finger to each and every camera lens and rebutted to the Twitter trolls, “Fuck you, not today!” The crowd rejoiced as DonZilla embraced his mother and dropped to his knee to receive the slobbery embrace of his precious pitbull pups. He felt overwhelmed with a sense of sincere and absolute love.

And then there was three consecutive gunshots, and absolute silence. From a crowd of awestruck teens emerged what appeared to be an awkward, knock off of DonZilla. The awkward, pasty incel, with a matching half shave and unmistakably placed replica tattoos, screamed, “No! It was mine time! It is my time! I love you! I am you! This is my time!” Smoke billowed from the chest of DonZilla as he collapsed into the arms of his howling mother. Immediately the imposter was disarmed and fed landing strip asphalt by authorities. DonZilla’s pupils dilated, his mothers blouse soaked in blood, she reduced her howl to a soft reassurance and whispered,

“I’ll love you forever. I’ll love you for always. No matter what happens, my baby you’ll be.”