#so a new hyperfocus has just popped up

[jaxsonthefirefly]

#electro swing #so a new hyperfocus has just popped up #but something about this music changes my brain chemistry

[gubbles-owo]

In my tradition of semi-randomly promoting ops simply because I like them: Vulcan!

Extremely focused and passionate blacksmith, her kit is fairly simple yet fun, plus she got that tgirl swag. Gameplay-wise, she's obviously great for soloing a lane, or going at it with a partner for assistance. S1 is alright but watching her bonk shit with her S2 is always a treat.

they're dating, ur honor (i'm still a lil new to the game to know what counts as a crackship in arknights, but crackships are best ships get on my level or fuck u <3)

Okay, so, I'm not gonna do this justice, but I'm gonna have a shot at it anyway: Vulcan is a weaponsmith. It's practically her sole interest, as her file states that she hyperfocuses on her craft all day, and tends to get irritated if you pull her out of it. Her voicelines really hammer this in (hah). Soooo she has ADHD or some kinda incredible focus ability. Well damn can I relate. She not only forges her own gear, but also helps design and repair gear for fellow operators, so she proves to be a pretty valuable resource for Rhodes Island. Her operator record shows this in action, and I have to say, the care and consideration she demonstrates for her peers are way sharper than I would've expected.

Goddamn, she really understands the importance of both the tool and the person bearing it. Even the most reliable tools will begin to fail someday, and you can choose whether to submit their bound purposes to prioritize preservation, or give up some part to fix up or even improve them. Neither is a wrong answer. It depends largely on the person behind the tool. These things can be special. But this fuckin exchange right here though...

"She liked my machines, but she insists on only using things she's made with her own hands." Cut to me reading this earlier today, still partway through writing my own damn matrix transformation functions in C so I can move the damn camera/objects properly in 3D space on the Nintendo 64. I could easily pop open one of countless git repositories for open source 3D projects and yoink their matrix transformation functions for myself. It's free real estate. So why in the fuck am I burdening my feeble mind with cranking out complicated math shit that has already been done before? "Because there's meaning behind it. It's part of my roots." I want to understand exactly why this thing works. I want to try things far beyond my perceived capabilities, come to those realizations myself, and hopefully learn some shit along the way. It doesn't really matter whether or not I succeed, and even if not, there's no shame in seeking assistance from others. But it's in my nature to meticulously learn every aspect of the things I love. It's simply how I operate. I will hyperfocus on that shit all day. Just know I'll feel cranky if you try to pull me out of it.

smiles i want to protect (or support).png

#news flash im gay #i love the characters in this game sm #you can really feel a piece of the artist in each one #vulcan #arknights #gub

[thesherrinfordfacility]

(1/5?)

so. the fall. both in general and crowley's specifically. i speculated about this quite a bit when i watched season 1 already and since, by and large, these speculations are still the basis for my thoughts now, that's also how i'll be structuring this. i'm going to go through the opinions/theories i formed based solely on the data available for season 1 first and then address new information from season 2 and how that's affected my conclusions.

a quick preface! i'm working off the assumption that go's god basically doesn't get involved in anything ever and the fall was consequently not her doing. nor do i think the metatron's heard anything more from her than anyone else has nor that he had even back then.

so the most frequent allegories of heaven i see are cult and abusive family and while i don't think that's wrong, my instinctive reaction was and still is dictatorship/surveillance state. heaven is literally the ultimate form of the divine right of kings. the metatron and the archangels cannot be removed from power because they were instated by god and their orders must be followed unfailingly because they are merely carrying out god's will. so angels starting to question god/the plan is threatening. immensely so, because the logical next leap is questioning the authority of the voice of the god and of the archangels. and sure enough that's exactly what happens! there's an uprising which turns into a war and the losing side are permanently exiled and branded as unforgivable traitors, pure evil, and any hint of something that could become dissent is cracked down on harder than ever because the archangels/the metatron can't risk anything like this emerging again. after all god isn't talking to them either and their power is very much not as divinely-ordained and unshakable as they would like.

now if there's one thing that season 2 did that was confirm my impression of heaven the dictatorship. the way gabriel is dealt with is deeply unsettling and looking at how isolated muriel is kept i'd wager there are no risks being taken that any angels could start sharing ideas again. before i thought there was an off-chance that the archangels assumed the fall was god's plan and that's why they did it but now i'm convinced it was purely political. (obviously they'd still think god intended it but i'm certain that was not the motive, that the motive was solely about staying in power. unsure what the metatron's view on god is. thoughts?) what's new from season 2 is the power dynamics at the top of the hierarchy. instead of the metatron and the archangels being a unified force on approximately equal footing, the metatron's more nefarious and more powerful than i assumed and is clearly the sole person at the very top, pulling all the strings and asserting himself as lone unassailable ruler and the archangels are infighting. gabriel's abusing his power michael's trying to usurp him and uriel's barely tolerating either of them. but while that makes for some interesting dynamics to play with i don't see how that changes anything about the fall.

wow 🦭 anon!!! firstly, please accept my humble apologies for the late-late answer to this!!! i got into a hyperfocus with an amv and then needed to make soooo many notes on what you've said so that i had a coherent response!!! 💃<- apology dance✨

anyway!!! by god im so excited to answer this; plot speculation is my favourite kind of analysis!!!

further asks and response under the cut!!!

okay so im basically just going to write up a train of thought without much coherency, incorporating both s1 and s2, so please do pop back if ive ignored something, or am missing something!!!

i completely agree with your assessment of god's involvement in the fall; following job, where i recently parsed out some thoughts on the conflicting interpretations of god's will where job, his family, and their suffering was concerned, im firmly of the opinion that god in GO is omniscient, but strictly amoral. whilst she might pull strings threaded through the universe (e.g. the knocking over of the candle in the bookshop fire is, to me, an example of this), she created and abides by free will. in her angels, in the fallen, and in humanity. I've gone over incarnations of this train of thought in #god is dead theory, if anyone fancies some extra reading.

but essentially, i can kinda see god's involvement in the fall being very similar to that of pontius pilate (depending on which account you read, to be fair) in the crucifixion of jesus, and leaving the fate of the angels that were 'rebelling' up to the 'people' - i'll come back to this. but i feel this could be a very fitting allegory insomuch of jesus being the scapegoat for humanity's sins, and dying for them to be absolved. the reconceptualisation of this in the context of the fallen is chilling, but apt (especially if anyone subscribes to some variant of the scapegoat theory - that being crowley, aziraphale, lucifer, or any combination of them. more in. #omelas/scapegoat theory tag).

bottom line for me on speculating about the fall, for me at the moment, is that god created angels. she created them to have free will, and free thought. this birthed angels starting to speak up about things they think could be different. some just wanted to make the stars live longer, some perhaps thought humanity were given too much importance, or god had too much power, altogether. i don't think god necessarily had an issue with any of this, because this was all according to how she wanted her creations to exist. but if she were to interfere in anything as an omniscient being, it would corrupt that very tenet - would influence free will, and render it obsolete.

so if god were to excuse herself, with very little - if anything - to say, it would stand to reason that her voice, the metatron, would take the metaphorical stage. now, i can see metatron's rationale going in two different directions (so far, and might be both or neither):

machiavellian (or dark triad) approach, in that he covets god's power and voice absolute for himself, to rule over heaven and its angels and wilfully disguise his own wants and desires as the word of god. and rebellious angels would threaten to upend his own authority in this regard

some kind of take on the divine command theory; specifically in ethics that morality is dictated by the command of god... ie. that something is good specifically because god commands it. DCT and voluntarism in general can be considered very flawed, (or so any ethics theory rooting in religion), for obvious reasons, but i could see this being what metatron genuinely believes. the absence of god renders him only with the great plan, and if the fall - because it's borne of free will - goes outside the scope of the plan, what other choice does he have but to eradicate evil from eden?

i find the second the most compelling of the two, but they're not mutually exclusive - metatron can still emulate machiavellian psychology and still think he's genuinely following the command of god, in good (?) conscience, in order to preserve a perfect heaven, without perhaps realising that his own free will could inform him otherwise. it would also, imo, bring back the conflict between the great and ineffable plans nicely - what is laid out by god, and what is entirely unknowable because it's literally dictated by every individual set apart from god?

moving onto heaven specifically... ive collected a lot of thoughts over the last 48h or so. first, mainly, that i agree with you in how to view heaven analogically; maybe it's because my experience in life has been very different to lots of others in the fandom, but my take on heaven is principally that of a police state, and what we're looking at is the institution itself. imo, there's a lot of shared characteristics between heaven and most kind of policing agencies, right down to the things that inherently open them up to corruption and resistance.

i hadn't thought to look at heaven in the view of divine right of kings, but this is very interesting. in at least one sense, yep - could view the metatron as being the defacto heavenly sovereign, and decreeing with power absolute. and given the reference to 1650 in s2 (and im personally hoping this might be a flashback in s3), this could potentially be a very powerful mirror (ie. charles I and cromwell during the english civil wars). for some reason however, this dynamic doesn't ring completely true for me - not quite sure why yet, but i'll probably come back to it.

the manner in which gabriel, and potentially muriel, have been dealt with in heaven is also unsettling. but i think personally for me, regardless of the political structure of heaven, what unnerves me is that it is potentially a facsimile of falling, but not in the way the narrative has so far posed it. hell are short-staffed - irrespective of why, we know this is an issue. but heaven seems to have a consistency in their numbers, inferred by the same problem never being mentioned in relation to angels. and then consider that gabriel at the very least is a powerful archangel; whyever would heaven allow gabriel to fall into hell, and work for them? no, it is safer to wipe his memory, and reduce him to what we can surmise is a very, very low rank of angel occupation/choir. is this the new falling? is this what happened to the fallen? i think there's something there.

now the thing is, thinking more on the fall has made me confront something. as much as their actions as thus shown to the audience so far are deplorable, the archangels are eminently empathetic in the context of the fall, and how they act afterwards. if we look at them considering that, what we consider to be, free will is in fact radical thought, is dangerous, and that acting on that will bring heaven down... well, it's actually somewhat understandable how they regard aziraphale.

let's take gabriel and how he speaks to crowley-as-aziraphale in s1: this is, to gabriel, an angel that has upset the great plan. literally stopped it in its tracks. is, to his mind, working directly against the word and will of god. a radical, gone native, and turned to rebellion. wouldn't gabriel be frightened out of his little head? of course he would! presumably he had to go through the fall too, watch as (we could hypothesise) his brothers (gn) fell to hell, and have to turn against them as traitors and dissidents. so, to watch as aziraphale presumably treads the same path must be terrifying, because of what it could precipitate. beelzebub in s1 even said it at aziraphale-as-crowley's execution, "it'll cause a riot!". and that's in hell - now imagine heaven.

we know that archangels are capable of change. we saw in job them have - if not a camaraderie - a cordial (albeit still quite condescending) relationship with aziraphale. this appears to deteriorate the longer that aziraphale is on earth, and his path diverges away from theirs. but we also see gabriel, fully as gabriel, fall in love with beelzebub. they are capable of it - and capable of free will.

all of this to say that i don't think it's conclusive at this time to implicate the archangels in what, as the hypothesis above indicates, is entirely metatron's doing. bear in mind that despite the recent trial, uriel and michael don't even recognise metatron. this could be memory wipe, or could be that despite how it's physically shown to us metatron in heaven as a floating head and metatron in human form are not recognisable... that being said, a) aziraphale doesn't recognise him either, despite seeing his head in s1, and b) metatron says, "you don't know me?!", which could either be a test, or as genuine incredulity that they don't remember the mf metatron. the whole thing, as LWA has pointed out on a couple of occasions now, reeks of the nuremberg defense ('just following orders'), and whilst it's unjustifiable, it's certainly understandable.

in any case, i think it has the potential to inform very heavily on the current inter-archangel dynamic in heaven - who trusts whom? who next will challenge god? who is hungry for power, and to bring down heaven? when you specifically consider uriel's disdain of michael assuming the post of supreme archangel, it could be jealousy or just out of pettiness, but michael doing so must suggest a degree of instability and concern too. it might not necessarily change anything about the fall retrospectively, but it does inform on how they punish angels, that step out of line, in a post-fall era.

re: the specifics of crowley's fall (and me bearing in mind the length of this answer!), i agree on pretty much every point you raised, each conclusion - ive covered similar thoughts in various tags: #AWCW spec, #the fall/the great war spec, and #scapegoat/omelas theory. one thing on whether AWCW fought in the great war; i agree, i don't think he fought. but i definitely think he was present. being fanciful, i think he might have hid, or someone 👀 attempted to help him hide, and get him out of heaven without bloodshed, or without violence ("sauntered vaguely downwards"). i don't think it succeeded, and i think potentially both were brought as traitors before heaven... and here is where i cycle back to the scapegoat/omelas theory.

and in any case - im not convinced that either of them, or indeed anyone(?) fully remembers the fall. it would make sense, from metatron's perspective, to wipe all seeds of rebellious thought (without accounting for the fact that they're born of free will, which cannot be erased) from all involved parties in heaven with a targeted memory wipe. as for the fallen - i think that's literally part of their having fallen; they can't remember specifics about their time as angels, or at least the specifics of why they fell. this would potentially be explanatory for crowley's tendency as an unreliable narrator as concerns his fall in particular. the one thing i do trust in particular as to his potential part in the fall is AWCW's line: "if i were in charge..." - take into account what ive said above, plus this kind of thinking being a very innocent but parallel to what we can assume lucifer's personal beef was, i think the origins of crowley's fall - and what his questions threatened - is relatively clear.

i know you've brought up other things too, 🦭 anon, but i wonder if this is something we can explore in further depth in another post? i feel this essay is enough to be getting on with for now, and would love to know your thoughts!!! again, really sorry for the delay, but hope this makes up for it!!!✨💕

note to self - topics left to look at! AWCW rank, and gabriel's first order archangel line, and his line as jim re: "all the morning stars..."

update: fuck it 🦭 anon, i was turning these topics over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken for most of the evening, so let's dig in anyway!!!✨

okay look, i'll admit (and as is clearly evident in my old posts), i was an advocate of the crowley is lucifer theory. obviously neil debunked this, no worries, glad to have nipped that in the bud. but i am still fairly convinced that crowley is going to own a lucifer-ish narrative as concerns his fall. if we go by hell hierarchy in GO and correlate this against influential material (scripture, and yes okay Milton), we can be fairly certain that lucifer led on the fall, fell first and became satan, beelzebub was a key part (to warrant being prince of hell), and that crowley got himself caught up with them at some point before falling himself. this is a part of crowley's recount of his fall that i do believe, but i think he massively downplays his part.

i think AWCW comes across a group of angels that do not rebuke him for having questions, and even talk to him about them, encouraging him. i think he feels safe with them, and becomes pals with them, and they end up sweeping him along in more 'dangerous', 'rebellious' thought... and right up until the moment they get caught/lucifer starts speaking out, i don't think AWCW realises the shit he's gotten himself into (or maybe he does, but it's easier to sink down rather than swim up). in any case, he's surely going to be implicated in instigated rebellion among the angels, and be punished accordingly.

now im not entirely sure on the specifics of a potential scapegoat allegory would come in here, but i do think it does (and history will potentially repeat itself in s3, given the promo images). i think perhaps lucifer and the gang start to panic, panic at the concept of falling (regardless of who is dolling out the sentence, god or metatron), and they pin the blame on AWCW. he started asking questions first, he caused all of this. i think that's potentially why metatron has such beef, and specifically refers to crowley "always asking damn-fool questions", plus throws him the Dirty Look - all of this mess, and everyone believes crowley started it, even if he didn't pull the trigger. obviously lucifer and all the fallen get similarly punished, so crowley doesn't carry the full weight of the fall, but that would potentially be a big chunk of his character core that once realised could make a lot of things about him suddenly make sense.

(as an aside, i do perhaps think that aziraphale is also implicated in here somewhere - ive explored it in the #scapegoat theory tag more - but do also equally wonder if crowley is posed as the scapegoat for the fall, and aziraphale will be posed as the scapegoat for the last judgement? interesting mirroring to hypothesise).

in terms of crowley's rank... sigh. i get the narrative and character potential of it, but... i don't think he was a Very Important Angel, however that might look. at the very least, i hope not. i got a few reasons for this, first of them being that i think it could be quite cliché, to the point of being a bit reductive. he is very obviously, in a rather on-the-nose fashion, painted as being an archangel in s2; for this reason alone, i get the feeling that this will in fact not be the case. (and im not an expert on pratchett, far from it, but my understanding is that a lot of his themes work with the concept of being "ordinary" which... this theory would arguably shoot out of the park).

we know that crowley is at least in the throne or dominion choir. the way that muriel says these ranks 'or above' suggests that they are on the same rank, not throne-above-dominion as strict christian angelology suggests. neil and terry turned this structure on its head anyway with the specific archangel structure, but i think it's far that the basic blueprint of GO!angelology follows the same outline. which suggests that crowley can only have been these ranks, or a cherub, seraph, or archangel.

i dont think he was a high archangel on the same plane as michael and uriel, let alone gabriel. i did suggest (in #AWCW spec, i think) that he might have been a lesser archangel like sandalphon or saraqael, and this still rings true for me if you cross-reference heaven hierarchy against hell hierarchy (there's obviously a lot to contradict this copy-and-paste, but im just talking in the vague sense). the other thought i have, is that i don't necessarily think that crowley's power is borne out of having been an archangel; i think it's literally borne out of having an imagination, as was intimated in s1, and i don't necessarily trust his "how did you know i didn't do it?" line to shax; we know that shax is not the sharpest of demons in this respect. as for the miracle he and aziraphale performed - i don't think the reason why it was so powerful has anything to do with either of them, and all to do with jim (#25 lazarii theory).

moving onto "first order archangel", im still not quite sure what to make of it, but... i dont think it was intimating anything beyond reasserting gabriel's rank as the top archangel. the supreme archangel position seems to be just that - a position, a role - but one that elevates already existing power (and i think that's what's indicated by the purple eyes, personally - having, to a degree, some of the power of literal god), and thus raising you to the tier (?) of first order. fundamentally, without the SA position and therefore without the FO rank, i dont think gabriel is actually any different to michael or uriel; they're all archangels, and it's just a question of promotion. in which case, i personally think gabriel was just being sarcastic and childish, and simply reinstating "hey, im the top dog here, im the only one at my level, so what i say goes'. it feels like a very gabriel thing to do and say, imo.

i'll be honest; im coming up empty on the elevator scene, but if we're talking about missing furniture - the scene before is crowley walking out of muriel's 'office' with muriel and saraqael, and then bang we're in the elevator with them all as well as michael and uriel. there's a whole, obviously interesting, conversation missing there, and i dont think that's inconsequential... potentially.

okay last bit and then i'll definitely be done!!!✨ "morning stars" - so i obviously can't say all of the above and then based on this be like 'okay yeah there were multiple lucifer-type characters' because, honestly, i think that might be a bit far-fetched. there are a lot of astronomical, mythological, and biblic references to 'morning star', and 'light/dawn-bringer' but none that, at the moment, seem to fit for me. so instead, i return to jim.

as i say in my #25 lazarii theory posts, i think when we look at jim, we're somehow looking at the shell of gabriel, but also a fragment of god. not sure how she got in there, but to me the whole fly/huge miracle/jim makes that ring true for me. so, when referencing the morning stars, i think god (who let's face it, appears to be talking at that point in ep2) is literally talking about the beginning, where on the first day, god created 'day', and specifically 'morning' and 'evening', and in wider context the heavens and the earth (genesis 1:5, KJV) - so morning stars... might just be morning stars?✨

#not proof read - pretend you do not Perceive The Errors #good omens #ask #heaven theory #metatron spec #AWCW spec #pre-fall aziraphale spec #memory wipe theory #s2 meta #s3 narrative spec #scapegoat theory #the fall/the great war spec #god is dead theory #fuck it All The Tags

[halehavetogosometime]

Steddie (stranger things) omo shipping meme

This is a kink thing, folks, discussion ppl desperate to pee.

dldr

I love running through this series of questions when I’m all fired up on a “new” ship. I’m a multi shipper here as well, but I’ll start with these two yahoos, Steve and Eddie (some qs I approach as if Steddie are a couple in the future and living together, and some  I stick more closely to canon for)

 .

Who gets desperate because they didn’t want to get up from a video game/work/other activity

This is definitely more likely to be an Eddie move– hyperfocus can be a bitch, man. I can see him reading or especially working on a campaign or music and just putting it off or even not noticing until someone else, maybe Steve, sitting across the room, like, notices the quality of the bounce has changed and totally clocks it as Eddie-has-to-pee instead of the normal Eddie-finding-the-right-stimulation-threshold. Maybe Steve would pop over with a drink, or maybe he made himself a sandwich and did one for Eddie as well, so he intentionally interrupt Eddie’s focus which, like, normally he wouldn’t… but in a case like this he’d do it intentionally, “Hey babe, I made some for me, you want some too?” and Eddie jolts out of it, comes back to the world, accepts whatever Steve was giving him, and then Oh-So-Casually scoots rapidly towards the bathroom.

Can also see, like, Eddie hyperfocusing on a day when he’s home and Steve’s at work, only for Steve to come home and interrupt and Eddie to realize he’s Absolutely Desperate.

In neither case do I see him actually really wetting himself, not unless they play these games. 

Now Steve… I can definitely see Steve specifically having had close calls or incidents related to sports? Like, many an athlete has many a time pissed themselves, or peed right off the field etc because they are SO well hydrated and sometimes it just is like that. 

But then again, that’s “can’t” stop the activity more than it is “don’t want to”

Who insists they can hold it even when they can’t

Either. I can see Eddie more often being the one, like, not in tune with what his body is up to and getting into a tight spot and then doubling-down bluffing about it… but i can see either one of them getting, like, competitive about it, not willing to be the one who admits he’s gotta pee first… or imbibing substances that mess with his control… i especially can see Drunk!Former-Frat-type Steve forgetting that he broke the seal and not remembering he’s not gonna be able to hold it, etc, but trying to bluff his way through anyway

By the same token, can see high!eddie having nooooooo idea how bad hes gotta pee, really.

Who pees in a bottle because they didn’t want to leave their warm bed at night

Oh absolutely either one. 

Steve maybe doesn’t do it as much, was less in the habit when he lived in his parent’s pristine house, or when the likelihood of having a girl over was high, wouldn’t want to miss something like that and have a potential partner find it…

And def after they are together, if one catches the other at it, he’s gonna give him good-natured shit about it, but yeah. No big deal.

Who doesn’t pay attention to their fluid intake

Steve, maybe, if he’s drinking alcohol (otherwise, he’s more likely to just Always Be well hydrated, less “not paying attention” and more “always shooting for hydrated, even if that means peeing a lot more”)… but Eddie probs more normally, vacillating wildly between over and under hydrated. 

Who has the larger bladder

I can see arguments for either, steve has to pee a lot, but that’s cuz he’s usually well hydrated. Can see that either resulting in him Not holding as much, cuz always peeing, or holding plenty, just, there’s always plenty to hold…

And I can see Eddie with a monster bladder cuz he’s always putting it off, and therefore always holding… or the opposite, especially if he’s bad about, like, drinking water, and it usually drinking, like, coffee or other things that are stimulants/diuretics/bladder irritants.

Who is more likely to have a shy bladder

I think it could be fun to write either one that way… but of the two, probs more likely Eddie. He’s a more baseline-anxious type to begin with… and I think athletics to the degree Steve has participated are very likely to cure anyone of that– when you gotta, then you gotta, and you gotta take every opportunity, even when you’re packed in with a bunch of other athletes and there’s maybe not much privacy

Who will only use an appropriate facility

I don’t think either would care, really. Steve has definitely pissed in some “convenient” places during/after games, or in folks’ backyards during parties, but also i bet Eddie has pissed in the woods in particular many a time.

If we gave either one a shy bladder, that could be a component, but i don’t think it much is if we’re trying to be canon compliant.

More likely to have a holding kink

I want to say eddie, who i think is more likely to be kinkier in general/aware of his kinks. 

But steve, between the athletics, the drinking at parties, the general competitiveness, and the fact that he definitely definitely has had a great deal MORE sex than eddie– it’s entirely possible, that if he had one he would also have figured it out.

Who challenges the other to a holding contest

Either. They’re competitive. Actually, maybe it’s a comment/dare/etx from Robin or one of the kids.

How would each react to having and accident

Lol depends on how sober they are and or if there are extenuating Upside down shenanigans.

I can see eddie being embarrassed/humiliated maybe? If it was, like, sober in company or while he was trying to be cool or smth. Like maybe if it was Steve catching him coming out of a hyperfocus sesh and he doesn’t make it, maybe then he’d be embarrassed, especially if they were dating and hadn’t been that long. 

But if he’s in an altered state and/or really after all the shit they’ve been through, idk that he would care that much.

Similar for steve, like, if it were to happen somehow like on a date or smth, some situ where he was trying to be Cool Steve, maybe he’d b embarrassed about it. Maybe if it happened during sex, where he prides himself on always giving a Good Time… maybe then he’d be bothered… but otherwise, nah. Again, intense athletics + altered states + the upside freaking down, who gives a shit.

How would each react to the other being desperate/having an accident

I mean, with horniness in anything I write. But otherwise…

So if Eddie’s in the pickle, genuine stressed about whether he’s gonna make it/or in the aftermath, Steve’s gonna be good about it (in the later seasons, might have been a real Ass earlier). He’s gonna do his best to get Eddie wherever he’s got to go, or find him a bottle, or encourage him to piss on a tree or whatever, the fuck does anyone care about it. Clothes wash. 

He might tease some, definitely if this is pre-established kinky game stuff for them, but he’s gonna do his best to make Eddie not feel bad/keep other folks from knowing, etc.

In the reverse situ, Eddie would definitely come out of the gate making fun, but he’d shift Very quickly into being genuinely helpful/trying to make Steve laugh about it (even if laughing isn’t exactly ideal, lol)

Who is more likely to wet because of anxiety/fear

Probs eddie. If steve was prone to that, it would have come up almost certainly when Robin mentioned it in the bathroom at Starcourt.

Plus eddie just reads as a nervier dude in general. Dunno how likely, but he’d def be more likely

Who is more likely to wet deliberately

Either if part of some kinky game, steve if during a fight or smth when he knows there’s no point devoting any more brainspace to it (like sometimes in athletics), Steve maybe also more generally (probs again in context of drinking etc) more when they are living at home, partly because he’s not gonna worry so much about ruining his clothes/shoes? Like, not that eddie wears real fancy stuff, but sometimes maybe he does, and especially steve has an empty house with built-in washer dryer and eddie Shares a small space with his uncle and likely does laundry elsewhere.

#omorashi #omo shipping meme #stranger things kink #steddie kink

[ixcaliber]

Games of the month - June 2023

This month my hyperfocus went towards watching as many movies as possible, so it’s a pretty breezy games of the month

1. Haiku, The Robot

Neat little metroidvania about a little robot. It’s cute it’s pretty fun. My two big complaints would be

1) it felt pretty linear. i don’t doubt that there were probably other ways to get to locations than the ways that i took but the experience of playing it it really felt like each upgrade allowed me access to one new path which would lead me to the next upgrade and so on and so on.

2) i like boss fights better when each enemy has a little name pop up. the designs were cool and did some interesting stuff sometimes. i just wish i didn’t have to think of them in terms of like ‘the car battery one’, ‘the tv one’ etc. It makes them feel less memorable.

Otherwise perfectly fine metroidvania.

2. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Chronologically this is when I finished Tears of the Kingdom but I’m not ready to tear into that just yet so lets move on to

3. Life After Magic

This is a free game available through steam or through itch.io. It’s a visual novel where you control Akiko, a former magical girl who has somewhat drifted through life after the big bad that she and her magical girl team fought against has been defeated. With y2k approaching something is wrong and it’s up to you to bring your girls back together and face one more threat.

Hey. I love this game. There’s a good chance this is pretty high up my games of the year list, if not at the very top. I love the girls. I love the trans and nonbinary inclusion. I love the homages to sailor moon, yu-gi-oh and probably some other stuff that I didn’t even get. I love the way the game plays with nostalgia and the way this narrative reaches a head. If you’re like one of the two or three people reading this I absolutely recommend you get and play this one.

4. Monuments To Guilt

This is a digital museum dedicated to hostile design as featured in the Jacob Gellar video Games That Aren’t Games. Throughout you can see a number of benches designed to be uncomfortable, off-putting or otherwise just inaccessible to homeless people and disabled people. It’s a short experience and it is interesting to see this insidious aspect of design presented in the prestigious format of a museum and to see it talked about openly. It’s an interesting little experience.

5. Down In Bermuda

Fun and simple puzzle game. It’s the kind of think that would be approachable for kids, simple puzzle concepts like pipe dreams kind of puzzles, hidden object puzzles, no towers of hanoi to speak of but lots of puzzles that feel like they’re in the public domain so to speak. Nothing too difficult and taxing.

6. Lone Fungus

Another metroidvania from the recent humble metroidvania bundle. This game is okay. I like the cute little aesthetic and the basic movement is fun. The big big Big criticism I have of this game is that so much of the side content is like these nether gates or these ladybird rooms. The first time you go in these you get a little popup or something to tell you just how completely optional they are and they would have to be. The difficulty of platforming going from the actual game to these challenges is a fucking sheer cliff wall both in terms of reaction speed needed and in terms of the sheer length of time you need to platform perfectly.

At one point in the game I got a new skill ability and accessed a little tutorial move about how to use it and it started talking about using it to propel yourself quickly by doing this one kind of dash into it and for the life of me I could not get it to activate properly. I felt like I was attempting to perform some complex speedrun tech and the inputs I had to do were like spread across four different buttons which all needed to be hit so quickly in succession. Impossible. This was about the time I gave up on exploration altogether.

And like... it’s a metroidvania. For me at least that exploration is the point of the video game. If you’ve put me off of doing it I don’t really know what I’m getting out of the experience any more.

Also frustrating is that the final (fourth of four) sword upgrades is locked behind completing every single one of the ladybird rooms. And like, if you’re good enough to manage that you’re not going to need the piddling 2 extra damage that the upgrade can offer. Overall it really felt like so much of the stuff you can find that’s optional is not worth it.

There’s like a relic system (like charms in hollow knight) but the way it costs out the various relics you can only really wear three at a time, probably only two if you want to use any of the useful ones.

And just as a minor nitpick on top of everything else, all the bosses are bigger versions of regular enemies that you fight in the area leading up to the boss. It’s not inherently negative when you do something like this in a game but when it’s every boss fight then it makes them less memorable and less interesting.

Also there’s like two ways to end the game, some npcs tell you to do things the proper way while there’s a couple who indicate this secret back route and imply that everyone else is lying to you. The thing is that like I finished the game and I would still have no idea how I’m supposed to escape through the backroute exit. The way the npcs frame it is like a skipping out on your responsibility to complete the tasks set to you for the rest of the game, but like if it’s weirdly more difficult than those tasks then something isn’t adding up.

I had a lot of complaints about this one. It’s fine if you put yourself into the right mindset, as I said up top the basic movement is pretty fun and the designs are cute. Difficult to recommend it if you like to experience this kind of game in the way that I prefer to though.

7. Growing Up

This is a weird one to describe. It’s a game, as the name implies, about growing up. The game’s like broken up into different aspects. During each turn you get the opportunity to learn new skills; you start as a baby and have to learn skills such as talking and walking but soon you’re in school and your skills become more academic focused. At the end of a turn you schedule these tasks, completing each one a specific number of times can master it which will give you bonuses to your attributes and knowledge points to help facilitate learning new skills.

It’s a very mechanically focused game. Maybe I’m being a little too in depth with my explanation. Okay lets try again.

Each turn has like three major components. Learning skills. Scheduling tasks and exploring the brain map. The brain map is like a little minigame where you move along a randomly generated kind of sphere grid sort of upgrade tree, trying to optimize the attribute gains and bonuses with the limited amount of brain points you have. Since you do it once a turn each turn it’s like ‘okay what do I want to focus on this turn’ and you might always try to grab the thing that upgrades the amount of brain points you can have at any given time, but also skew towards knowledge points if you want to learn something new. It does encourage you to be thinking ahead towards your goals and as you play through the game new kinds of tile are unlocked which add dramatically to the complexity of this minigame and how you play it.

I think this game is very good mechanically. I really enjoyed the loop of learning skills, mastering skills, playing the brain map to try to optimize my ability to learn new skills.

The weakness in the game is the way the narrative is delivered. Which isn’t to say the narrative is bad. In my playthrough I got to befriend some good girls and then date and eventually in the epilogue marry my best friend Alicia.

(Also something of a sidenote but should mention that I got this from the humble pride bundle. It’s great that it does allow for gay and lesbian romances but it doesn’t seem to facilitate playing a transgender or nonbinary character. I’d love to see something added to facilitate that in a patch or free dlc.

(At the birth of your character you’re given the option to pick gender or to let fate decide. If you choose to pick you get to pick male or female. I wouldn’t want non-binary or transgender options added here, but like when you get to an age where you’re going to school to have some pop up or prompt that asks you if you feel comfortable in your gender or something like that and that sets you off along a path of transition. Or to have it opt in, an object you can unlock that allows you to schedule ‘self reflection’ or something that can lead you to a path to transition.

I understand that that might be a lot of work though, as there are a lot of characters in the game and making custom conversations for each of them to acknowledge your transition might be quite time consuming)

The other thing I wanted to point out in regard to it being on the humble pride bundle is at the beginning you can pick your parents. I picked to have two moms. The game allows this and is fine with it. There is however an unintended consequence.

Very early on, when you’re still a baby, I learned how to speak and got this cutscene where one of my mom was encouraging me to say ‘Mommy’ as my first word. And so I did and then my other mom was disappointed that I hadn’t said her name first. Maybe this is a one off oversight, because later in the game when I started dating my girlfriend she did acknowledge that we were both girls, but here at least they’ve not disallowed you to have gay parents but they haven’t made any specific accommodations for it.)

So the way that the narrative works is that the game is sort of presented in a semi-roguelike kind of fashion. It tells you up front that every life is unique and I think what it means is that at each stage of your life it will introduce one new character from like a stock set of characters. I met Jake at like primary school, Alicia at high school and Felicity at like college or something. All the schools were using american terms for the school levels so idk.

You get choices in each of these relationships that can branch them into slightly different directions (i think) but like your control over that interaction is minimal. If I’d been given the option I would never have spoken to Jake again. Not because he did anything wrong but just because I would prefer to be talking to girls. But the way the game is set up these events just sort of happen intermittently as you play and aren’t really informed by any of your decisions in the actual game you’re playing.

And your relationship with your parents is limited to occasionally they’ll give you a goal that you can complete to get a special currency you can turn in for some rewards. They don’t really have characters or expectations or preferences for you. Neither of my moms had like a desire to see me do really well at sports for example.

The other weirdest part is how okay at some point in the game you get two bars to manage. Happiness is your own enjoyment. Get it high enough and you’re relaxed and can schedule extra activities, get it too low and you’re stressed and you can’t learn new skills. And there is parental proudness or something. Get that high enough and you can get perks from them and I don’t know what happens when it gets toward the lower end.

Each activity you can do has some effect on both these meters. Studying will decrease happiness but increase parental proudness. Playing games will do the inverse. In addition to your main academic skills you have stuff like sports that you can gradually gain access to. And they reduce happiness but increase parental proudness. I learned how to start along a creative writing course and that reduces happiness but increases parental proudness. Hell I fucking learned magic (partially because I really liked the magician NPC Daz) and that does the same; decreases happiness but increases parental proudness.

I guess I can see it from a balance point of view but it feels so weird to be playing as a character with no passion. Nothing that they try to do makes them happy. I really feel like you should be allowed to find, or develop an interest. Like when your character is unhappy because they’ve been practicing their magic tricks for too long clearly something is wrong, right?

The overall vibe I get from this game is... you know those posts that circulate on here sometimes where it’s like “If you’re hacking the rules of dnd to do what you want then something is wrong. The mechanics are supposed to lead to the storytelling and if they don’t then you should be playing a different ttrpg where the mechanics do support the kind of narrative you want to tell/experience.”

The mechanics are good, the narrative is sometimes fairly interesting. They are essentially entirely seperate from one another and that’s a shame.

2. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

(some brief spoilers i suppose)

i don’t fucking know man.

its good. its undeniably a good game. better in some ways than breath of the wild, maybe a little too padded out. i never felt a great compulsion to fully explore the depths. It was neat that they were there but they felt so empty. Just large open stretches dotted with huge monsters I don’t want to fight and sometimes I’ll follow a treasure map down there and it’ll lead me to a colliseum full of lynels and I’ll be kerbstomped so hard that it drains my will to continue playing.

That’s how I felt towards the end. The game does the same thing as breath of the wild where the longer you play the more silver enemies it spawns in and though its more managable with the introduction of sages I never found myself wanting to engage in combat.

I genuinely do feel like the silver enemies ruin my experience of the game. I feel like I’m making progress, getting stronger, feeling more capable of dealing with threats. Now that I have my sages with me sometimes I’ll actively seek out a combat encounter and not hate it. There’s this sweet spot where that’s all true for a little bit, and then silver monsters start showing up and my enthusiasm ebbs dramatically. I never killed a single lynel in this game. By the time I felt that maybe I was good enough to start fighting them they’d started spawning in silver versions. 

All that said ascend is such a good ability that it sort of changed how my brain worked a little bit. Playing games immediately afterwards I would just keep thinking ‘oh i can just ascend up there’ and having to remind myself that no most video games do not allow this.

I think I had so much to say about Zelda. About how it feels like too much, about how sometimes you’ll just find yourself caught in a thing of not really accomplishing anything and come off feeling miserable, about the one afternoon where I spent literally hours in a pirate cave trying to solve a puzzle that didn’t exist. I think I’ve just exhausted all that in my brain and all my brain has left to offer is ‘just give me a fucking accessibility menu, let me turn down the damage and the health and turn what is a very good game that I sort of resent into an experience I’d actually like to play’.

#ix plays video games #fuck did i really finish zelda this month? #that feels like so long ago now

[thetypingpup]

I stay away from twitter for my own sanity and health but I can imagine 😅😅 twitter is wild at the calmest of times but I was hearing some very ugly things being trended like calling Bang PD a "greedy pig" and calling LSM a "senile grandpa". Like... I get disliking them but this is hardly a personal thing, it's cold hard business. And the classlessness of it all sounds gross without even actually going on twitter. I love the humbleness of artists like BTS and SVT who started from small, poor companies, I will root for underdogs any day but the older I've gotten and the more saturated kpop has become, the more I'm finding I'm clinging to SM because there's just something special they keep doing. It could be just me being old and my origins as a kpop fan being a 2nd gen SM stan first.

Alternate theory time and kpop history corner - Japan was the first market SM worked to break into beyond Korea in the early 2000s with BoA and TVXQ, and ironically the idol trainee system had already existed there for decades. A company called Johnny's that has managed male idols since the 60s invented it and I have a strong suspicion Lee Soo Man borrowed the concept and SM is credited with pioneering and establishing it in Korea. They then naturally looked to expand to Japan first with BoA because "look, we did the same thing as you guys but we can do it with female idols too and look how good they are!" I was a j-pop stan before becoming a kpop stan and I'm a little attached to tradition, I must say 😅 I'm attached to the longevity of SM artists because Johnny's artists used to "expire" at age 25 like models until the 90s generation that said "guess what, we're more than that" and started becoming MCs as well. Johnny's and SM were the first to start training idols to be presenters as well. Yuta wrecks me a lot because he looks EXACTLY like what a super hot Johnny's idol used to look like in the 2000s, with his love of rock, the visual kei-inspired hairstyles and the way he does his eyebrows (decidedly un-Korean!!) Johnny's has fallen out of favour in recent years and had loads of scandals as well, like any longstanding company that manages talent and invents things, but there's something to be said about legacy. We need both legacy and innovation.

well nowadays, they're definitely much more focused on legacy than innovation. they're much more focused on promoting and pushing the sm brand, and not so much the artists themselves. that's why there's been such an emphasis on these fuckass group projects, like the collab units or the big sm winter albums. yo sm palace was such a crazy time, bc when that tweet announcing it came out, it got ratioed to death. people of all sm fandoms were basically like "bitch we didn't ask for this. we asked for a comeback for our own artists". and then everything else either had to be crammed in at the end of the year, or get pushed to the next year and get delayed like onew said. and this hyperfocus on the sm brand is why poor red velvet is still stuck at the reve festival, why ay yo...was the way it was with those awful teasers, why key's and other comebacks got delayed, and it's just derailing everything.

and this is pure conjecture so take this with a grain of salt, but considering all the internal strife going on in sm, i wouldn't be surprised if this new focus on legacy and the sm brand is their way of putting up a strong front while they fall apart on the inside. like trying to prove to the public (and themselves) that sm is still an established company with all this legacy to draw from. that's may be part of why why they're roping everyone into this bullshit kwangya thing, even tho half their artists either couldn't explain it with a mic to their mouth, or have already gone on record saying they don't like it. now that they're retroactively trying to rope everyone into this smcu shit with kwangya and everything, it makes a group like aespa have less of their own identity. now their concept isn't ai and kwangya, it's sm's latest venture and using them as the main vessel. but, bc the brand is clearly more important at this stage, and the brand is known of innovation, it's led to misguided shit, like seriously debuting the ai character for aespa as opposed to giving aespa an actual comeback.

Edit: with the whole focus on the brand, it honestly bleeds into how I see nct u now. I was seeing clips of the wayv fanmeet, they were dancing to universe, and i literally forgot yangyang and xiaojun were in that unit. Even nct u feels less like a genuine nct project, and more like those obligatory group projects the company makes them do

so i agree we need both legacy and innovation, but rn sm is just hyperfocused on the past and the future is looking real uncertain. literally every day we're hearing something new in terms of internal strife, like they're genuinely on their house of the dragon shit and destroying themselves from within, and it does genuinely make me wonder if they're gonna make it through the year. and because of that, it does make me worry for the artists bc it is some of the best music in kpop and it'd be a real shame for them to go out like this

[mandajiu]

I am an ADHDer and on hyperfocus mode with 3088 these days. I will make a private group for the CP stuff because IF there is any verisimilitude in their relationship which obviously I believe it has some merit or I would not be armed with Google camera following posts on their posts with such glee, I have learned enough about the pop culture in the past few years and the way both 88 and 30 have been treated to "chew" my CP responsibly. As I live in Doha, I cannot access Weibo or WeChat despite Chinese friends helping me out, so I decided to come to Tumblr to process all my new learnings - language and otherwise.

I want to be clear. I love these two on and off the screen. They seem to be the Metamucil (fiber supplement) of C-Ent. I love their authenticity, frankness, and quirkiness. Watching them together reminds me of the glow I experienced when I met my future husband. There is something so easy about the few public interactions we have been privy to - no big drama, ample affection, and trust. Their coincidence list is so large that one could write a book on it. If nothing else their studios seem to be very close. I follow 3088 dramas regardless of FL/ML because although I am not an invested fan, I am a huge supporter of these two.

Mandarin-speaking Chinese social media accessing Leidi on Bilibili are seriously some of the most romantic, overall kind-hearted shippers I've ever witnessed content creating. Some have left their enclosure and I don't blame them for being upset at a collective perceived idea about some things. I appreciate the fact that most Leidi are very level-headed and know that shipping comes with reality that this is also just a fantasy world. I also write fan-fiction (not real life drama CP FengJiu/DongHua). Niche CPdoms are fun to belong to because finding someone who is grounded and has a like mind is really awesome. We all just want community at the end of the day, but we have to be ethical in our consumption and production of CP content. These are real lives that can be affected. I am coming up with Rules for Ethical CP Chewing at some point just to remind myself when the international color-blind crew of another group makes me want to step outside that we have a responsibility to remain silent regarding fantasy. No matter what CP you "chew", I personally believe we need to stay in our private lane and not bother official actors' social media.

IF one of these artists comes out and says they are with x other person you least thought they would like, we should support them and trust their decision, still watch any of their dramas if the plot interests us, and it is okay to shed quiet tears for a moment at a fantasy lost. The last time I shipped a real couple was Buffy/Angel. I quickly learned DB was married and that ended because I am a rational human being. Yes, even if it is the person we least like in C-Ent for one of them. (I'm totally an aunty fan here). It's their choice and I trust both 30 and 88 know what is best for their journey. I love 3088 because of The Long Ballad; meeting Feng Jiu is how I survived the pandemic and Lu Xiao Bei stole my heart with his grief over his lost loved one. They and the idea I had of their affection will always hold a special place in my soul. I will continue to support them as they are now, as officially two separate entities. If announced, my shipper heart would be so happy and I just might find a way to send them my best wishes...but again it is all fantasy until proven otherwise no matter if you are drowning in sugar. Chew responsibly.

To my one Leidi person I talk to on Twitter, thank you for the idea nangi. I am mostly just here to learn Mandarin through about dramas, films, and variety shows!

#ChewCPResponsibily #3088 #Leidi #LastWordinPublic #PrivateLeidiGroup #ComingSoon

[ravynfyre]

stupid shit

I have a hard time getting started. I have an even worse time finishing. when I was a kid, perfection was expected... and punished when it wasn't achieved. but at the same time, when it *was* achieved, i'd be told that they "never expected me to actually manage it." add in the executive dysfunction that i didn't learn was even a thing that *wasn't* "laziness" until basically last year, and the adhd that i am only now beginning to accept might be a real thing with me... it all equals a crippling fear of failure, which, of course, i am one and always have been and any any success is just a fluke. so...

i have always tried to break things down into smaller "projects" to give myself distinct end goals toward the whole. it makes it easier to get things done, because if I don't finish something in one shot? i rarely return to it. generally, the only times i reliably finish big tasks is when i manage to trigger myself into what i used to call a "theta state", which i have come to realize is probably a manic episode, where i can truly hyperfocus on the project to the exclusion of everything else. it worked better when i was married, because if things needed to be done - like feeding the dogs, for example - the partner would handle it while i was "in the zone". i can't afford to do that now that i live alone... so i try to break my tasks into even smaller "projects" so that there's an end point to it. a chapter in a bigger book, if you will. the problem is... starting the next "chapter", knowing that it has to end up being perfect, or i will scrap the *entire idea.*

all why trying to fight the feeling of "just being a lazy piece of shit".

what discipline i had in my life, i feel like i used up while trying to achieve my childhood dreams of joining emergency services. and then i lost that, so i have a huge feeling of "what's the fucking point, then, if it can all be taken away, even though you did, for once, everything right?"

all this to say that i haven't written anything on my fics for... months now, i haven't even started the mari lwyd project i promised i'd have finished last friday, i have three major house organization projects that i am stalling on, no yule decorating done at all, a new custom pop to work on that i haven't even opened, cleaning and chores, and all i really *want* to do is crawl into my chair and sleep. i'm cold. i'm hot. i'm tired. i'm bored. i'm overwhelmed. i'm in pain. i'm exhausted. i'm sick of struggling. and i'm angry because i haven't even done anything *worthy* of being tired or exhausted or overwhelmed.

that's basically it. i just needed to vent for a bit. sorry.

#maudlin bullshit #mental crap #emotional crap #maybe SAD

[floatingonalowvibe]

chapter six, part two

The north pole. always bright, colorful, and full of energy.

the sleigh was being lowered into the stalls, and the smell of the workshop filled my nose. a smile grew on my face.

once we hit the floor, I was dashing out of the sleigh, bouncing up and down like an exited child.

I could hear the chatter of the elves as they worked, the sounds of hammers and drills whirring away.

I was walking through the entrance of the workshop, taking in the sights, it has been forever since I was here last, but it felt the same, the comforting smells and sounds filled my senses. A few familiar faces popped out at me, a few old friends.

“m/n!!”

The voice stopped my viewing of the workshop, as I turned my head to see who it was. The exited voice I heard belonged to none other than Judy, the one and only.

I quickly did a little gay boy run over to her, engulfing her into a hug.

She returned it with just as much energy as I put into mine, and maybe even putting in more.

“Oh my god.... it's been so long!!” I said, releasing the hug but holding her shoulders.

“It has, too long even!” she responded. We brought each other into another hug,

“Well, I hope you guys get to make up for lost time while m/n stays here." dad spoke from behind us, " I've got to go check on a few things, you and Judy go find Bernard, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you ." he finished with a wink, he was off, probably to his office.

Judy grabbed my hand, leading me towards where I believe to be the bakery. she walked with such a hurry, making me suspect she had to tell me something.

we entered the bakery, the smell and warmth filling my senses. the elves just got done with a batch of something cinnamon flavored, as the smell was strong.

"what do you need to tell me?" I asked as we stepped in her office, me closing the door behind her.

she turned around, a smile growing on her face. It was a mischievous smile, like she had a big silly secret to tell me.

"Ok but first I wanna tell you to not act weird when I tell you this, and don't tell anyone you heard this from me, ok?" she said.

I was more intrigued than ever at this moment, wanting to know what she had to say so bad. was it elf drama? was it something about my dad?

"well, spill the beans!" I said, moving closer to her, anticipation raising in me.

" well, " she started " Bernard has been going absolutely bonkers about you visiting, like he wont stop talking about you to me on our breaks! "

I felt my cheeks begin to redden at the thought of him talking about me, and even so him being exited to see me. a small weak smile started to form on my face, soon taking over it.

"Oh my snowflakes are you blushing??!!" I heard her exclaim.

I stopped all movement for a second, and I realised, I really was blushing. I was blushing over Bernard. Him.

I started stuttering, mentlally cursing myself for not being able to form words.

"hey, it's ok, he just been really stressed, and I bet you're the thing that's going to bring him out of his gloomy mood." she said, her voice soft and mother-like.

I nodded, not wanting to say anything.

Why in the world did I react that way? why did my face feel that hot? why couldn't I speak? why does the thought of Bernard, of all people, missing me make my head spin? do I like him?

No, I know I don't. Ive already told myself that having that type of relationship with Bernard is off the table, and besides, he's an elf! who's who knows how old! and I'm just an average 19 year old boy, freshly dropped out of college and always high. he would never lower his standards to be with someone like me.

a/n: so the new posting schedule will be about every 1-2 weeks. I am going to be starting another story (Eddie munson) soon so I might hyperfocus on that for a while and forget about this one for a few days. anyways drink some water.

#bernard the arch elf #bernard #bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #bernard the head elf

[dirtwatching]

some thoughts on ADHD and ASD

Hej, my name's Ise (she/they), 24 years old, student, and about a month and a half ago I was diagnosed with ADHD and ASD. I am currently in treatment (meds and therapy) for ADHD, but my doctor says that we should first tackle that before we look at its brother, ASD.

The too-much gene

Jenna Marble's phrase "too much gene" really resonates me, because when I get excited I also have a tendency to be a bit too much to handle. When speaking about my passions, I can talk anyone into a corner, and I will dominate any seminar if I find the subject even a bit interesting. I also have a strong tendency to be a "klugscheißer" or "besserwisser" (i think that is the more international one), so I will often correct people, not to show them how i am better than them but in the interest of creating the best product. I also gague when to make those remarks: I will not apply the same scrutiny to a text written by someone who is a beginner in that language as I would to a text written by someone who is a native speaker. I usually point out, correct and sometimes explain, but I dont belittle, e.g. by saying how elementary that is.

That too much gene also shows itself in my writing, as you might have noticed. What was supposed to be a straight forward short text turns into a novel. I have really big problems narrowing in on just one topic: when tasked to write a paper one any topic regarding scandinavian monarchy, I spend two months on researching the entire history of three royal houses and earldoms and in the end could not single out a reasonable topic for one term paper.

And I have a bit of anxiety that the ADHD meds will only make me more unbearable, more to handle.

2. How do I know they are working?

I am on a constantly rising dosis of Medikinet, as of today I am taking 30mg of them in the morning and another 20mg around mid-day. While I do notice the constant tiredness that had been bugging me has reduced, i still dont "think in HD", as my doctor said I might. I am still trailing off in class, but can nevertheless still answer when the prof asks a question. I can write a pagelong essay for the student magazine in one sitting, but thanks to hyperfocus that was something I could do before. I think that maybe my energy and my motivation has risen, but not so much my ability to (control my) focus.

There is also the general problem that I am a very critical person, not (only) as in self-critical but also very much as in critical theory, how do I know that what I am experiencing is real and not a simulation, critical. Okay, maybe thats a bit too much, but more like: how do I know the meds are doing their job and this isnt just a placebo effect taking place? And what if my increase in energy is simply due to my surroundings, the sun coming back and the end of the semester approaching, the new flat, different people I hang out with or my diet and exercise, and not the meds?

And additionally, how do I know that my brain does what it is supposed to do, when it has probably never in my life done that? (And lets not get into a rant about normativity here.) This is actually a thing I was already thinking about when I was about ten years old: how I can I know what I am feeling, both emotion and sensory/pain wise, when those feelings dont come with a label and I can never know what exactly someone else is feeling?

Life doesnt come with a pop-up menu for stats, where you can clearly see whether the pain your feeling is the worst pain imaginable or whether that little hitch in your breating is due to anxiety, walking up the stairs or a cold.

#autism #adhd #i had a third thing about taking meds to be a productive member of society but it got too complicated and i started getting distracted #responses are welcome

[baizhuo]

#BAIZHUO . ❛ is it really selfish of me to defy the inevitable ? ❜

🐍🌺 . carrd . doc . home .

a private & highly selective HEADCANON based BAIZHU of genshin impact ; written by GHOST ( 27 , they / them ) . activity will always be selectively low . this blog is UNAFFILIATED to the genshin impact community & is crossover FRIENDLY to any mixed media .

IMPORTANT UPDATES BELOW .

🐍 Leaks & Spoilers

Tag your LEAKS or i will unfollow.

I don't care about content that is already found within the game. I am fine with stuff that is already available to play. I am talking about content that is yet to come. The new update information and patch notes are already on thin ice most of the time and i am not overly fond about it but what I really don't enjoy is rumours about the game. Stuff that isn't really 100 percent confirmed.

if you don't understand this, then to put it simply. do NOT talk about anything that ISN'T found within the game. if its something you can find in the game and it's available then I'm chill about it.

Of course this doesnt include like.... personal HCs and whatnot.

🐍 notifications & tags  

tumblr does not notify me of any @ ’ s . you can @ me if you would like , it pops up on the activity page , i just do not get notified directly / immediately , so i will not see your notif right away . my dash is relatively slow , often , so i read that like the morning paper , but i also am not frequent enough on here to always know .

this also goes for anybody who tags me in things . the tumblr tagging system does not pick up most ( if not all ) posts with my url . i cannot use the tag tracking system . at all . i never have been able . i do not know why either i am sorry !

if you want to notify me of something or bring to my attention something / a reply, please dm me directly ! it is also better if you dm me in discord . if you do not have my discord , then you can use the tumblr dms ( but they are not always great either ) . if push comes to shove , you can then use my inbox as well , i will not mind if you get my attention like that either !

know that the only thing i do see / notice are likes & reblogs of posts that are on my blog . so that is fine . i don’t need notifications for threads as much .

i promise you it is okay i love getting messages . i just tend to hyperfocus A LOT at times while other times i cannot focus at all & i get really distracted with my squirrel brain . it is okay to gently remind me of something or try to get my attention ! i know many people don’t like that , which is why i don’t do it to others , but i 100 % promise you that it is okay .

🐍 about spoilers

i actually don’t pay attention to genshin spoilers or the videos that come out for them right way . i try to actively avoid them tbh . if it isnt in the game directly , then i don’t really perceive it . if I happen to come across it , then cool , but otherwise ... please refrain from directly telling me / showing spoilers that are NOT in the game . i dont mind if its spoilers that are already IN the game . 

but for upcoming content that isn’t found in the game , please assume that i don’t know wtf is coming into the game , & assume that i don’t actively look for these patch notes , because i really dont . there is a reason why i dont look this stuff up . i am somebody that wants to enjoy the game for what it already has & not what it will have .

🐍 i do modify my formatting for people on request !

if my formatting for your replies / threads bothers you in any way , shape , or form , please tell me . i promise that i can accommodate you . i format AFTER i write the entire reply anyway . so it will not be a bother for me if you dont want to have that . i have friends who have asked in the past . 

i use small font and edit html for the colour . if any of this bothers you ( be it cause you genuinely cannot read it or you dont like it ) , please let me know & i will modify it for you .

* you are always more than welcome to send asks if you have any questions *

#pinned. #est. 04/21/2021 #r. 08/06/2022 #feel free to like this if you have read the rules!

[adhdconfusion]

Things that I do because of ADHD that aren’t “pretty”.

aka: Stop romanticizing ADHD

1. I can barely ever cry.

- When I say barely, I mean I can only cry at movies, or songs, or books. I can watch HTTYD 3 over and over, all while crying each time.

But when it comes to big, “real” (for lack of a better term) things, I just can’t. My dog of 7 years died, and I didn’t cry. When I saw my grandma slowly lose herself before death, I didn’t cry. When my sister went missing for four days, I didn’t cry.

I don’t even know how to describe the frustration it gives me when I need to exert my emotions, but just- can’t.

2. Hyperfocus

- Sometimes, I will literally do things for days straight; no breaks, no sleep, nothing.

For example, I once wrote something for 3 continuous days. I never went to sleep, I never showered, and I never got up to eat. I was just sitting on my bed, staring at the screen, and writing. It seriously terrifies me that I can even do that for so long, not even realizing it.

And it’s not even like I was just ignoring my hunger either, I didn’t even realize that I hadn’t eaten. Can you imagine that? Being so incredibly focused on something, that you literally don’t have time to think about anything else.

3. I always say things before thinking.

- This is a big one. I’ve always been referred too as a blunt, or straightforward person, but the truth is that I’m just impulsive.

Sometimes I’ll take a joke too far, or get defensive, or say something rude. All because I don’t think before saying things. I have lost so many friends because of this that it’s not even funny.

4. When I’m not in hyperfocus, I can’t focus at all.

- I’ve even lost focus while writing this post too many times to count. Whether it’s me going to skip a song, and ending up making a new playlist, or me talking to people on Discord, I always get distracted.

There’s so much media (movies, books, etc) that portrays this as “Oh, look, a bird!” and then the character goes right back to work. In reality, it’s more like: See the bird, think about where it’s nest might be, realize it has a cool pattern on it’s wings, go to your phone to see if you can figure out what kind of bird it is, end up in a wormhole of learning about recognizing bird types.

And it’s like that for almost everything that distracts me.

5. Sensory overload

- I can’t listen to people talk while music is in the background. Even if the song happens to be at the lowest volume setting, I will not hear a word you say to me until it’s turned off. This applies to a lot of different sounds going together.

Sometimes, noises will literally give me migraines (and in a few cases, nausea). I don’t care if you’re “talking low”, it physically hurts to listen too.

This happens with touch especially. If someone is leaning against me, or holding my hand, or anything, I will straight up fall into an anxiety attack.

This can last for HOURS at a time.

6. Mood swings

- They happen all of a sudden, and occasionally with no reason. One second, I’ll be happy and talking to my friends, and in the next moment, I feel like running away and never seeing them again.

It’s more common for me to have mood drops, than mood lifts. My excitement to talk to my friend will suddenly turn into the anxiety/fear of them hating me. Or the happiness from doing something I like will become anger about not being able to do it sooner.

It isn’t just “cute” mood swings like happy to sad, or content to tired. I get angry, depressed, apathetic; all out of seemingly nowhere.

7. The “annoying” stims (not the ‘quirky’ ones or whatever)

- 60% of my stims are completely verbal (for example: “beep!”, “pop!”, *cha-cha-cha noise*, *continuous zzzzz noise*, *tongue clapping*, giggling, etc), which I almost never see stuff for.

Of course, I also have a lot of physical ones like hand flapping, running in place super fast, clacking my teeth (kind of like that shivering teeth noise?), vibrating in place, etc. Most of which would get me weird looks in public.

I constantly try to hold them in, especially in public, and it hurts. I consistently get muscle cramps because of it, and it always makes my lack of focus even worse for a few minutes afterwards.

There are definitely more that I didn’t mention (might even make a part two), but these are the ones I could do for now.

In short: Stop romanticizing ADHD. It isn’t something that just goes away because of a relationship, or a thing to fawn over, or something you “wish you had”.

It’s so stressful, and tiring - I would give absolutely anything to get rid of it.

#long post #adhd #actually adhd #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #adhd combined #romanticizing mental illness #romanticizing adhd #adhd inattentive #adhd hyperactive #adhd issues #negative #adhd problems #adhd stuff #adhd things

[thegingeralien]

Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

#ADHD #Study tips #actually adhd #autistic #adhd #neurodivergent #adhd study tips #advice #adhdstudytips #studying with adhd #adhd advice #ask adhd #adhd mood #adhd life #adhd vibe #disability support #uni support #school advice

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VI

“I think I’m catching feelings

And I don’t know if this is empathy I feel

Just hold on

Remember when you said this was the last time?”

Sex, Eden

A/N: okay this chapter has probably been my favourite to write so far because we are finally. finally!!!!!! getting to a lil smidgen of softness!!!!! and the softness will only continue like originally I had a different lyric in mind for this chapter (a hozier lyric to stay on brand) and decided that it was too soft so I stocked it away to use in the future when things get even sweeter and harry gets even dumber 😌 we really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! and please remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated!!!! not just by us but by all content creators!!!!! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it!!!! spreading content keeps creators motivated!!!!! and so do messages about what you liked!!!! it lets us know what sort of vibe to add in later!!!! okay now that that’s out of the way!!!! let’s dive in 😼  

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

word count: 29.1k

content/warnings: a good healthy dose of denial and justification to deny feelings, the defamation of gherkin pickles, pet names (literally), a strong independent woman who don’t need no man, a (not quite) man who definitely needs a strong independent woman, brunch served with a side of emotional trauma, breaking promises, nsfw social distancing, and Harry once again ignoring the phrase “bros before hoes”

///

Harry knows he’s good at a lot of things.

He’s good at picking up on fashion trends and turning them into timeless styles, molding each piece to fit his own persona with ease.  He’s good at identifying the locational origins of wines within five seconds of the sweet liquid crossing over his tongue.  He’s good at mixing his own drinks as well, always managing to craft the perfect concoction that suits each drinker’s needs.  He’s good at creating gallery walls in his apartment, at charming anyone into giving him what he wants with a slip of his mouth, and at pissing off his friends until they’re threatening to stake him just to get a little peace and quiet.  Harry is good at chess, at reciting poetry from memory, and at painting his non-dominant hand’s fingernails without smudging any nail polish onto his icy skin.  Harry is fucking excellent at coaxing orgasms out from his lovers.  He knows that he’s good at a lot of things.

The issue, he realizes the day after he asks Y/N out on a real date, is that planning a real date is not one of those things.

This, Harry rationalizes to himself, is not his fault.  After all, the last time he’d been on a real date was during the Victorian era, and Harry is fairly certain that taking a chaperoned stroll around his beloved’s estate garden isn’t in fashion anymore.  And when the way all of those dates ended is taken into account, Harry doesn’t think his past experiences should be the marker for a good date, anyways.  

It’s this frustrating lack of knowledge that leads Harry to do what he always does when he doesn’t know the answer to something: he Googles it.

With the top of the line Macbook Harry had purchased a few months back with the money from a CEO of some candle company perched on his lap, Harry relaxes back onto his leather couch, kicking his brown boots up onto the matching footrest as he does so.  Once the search engine is open and the cursor is blinking in front of his face, however, the vampire pauses, his manicured fingernails perched over the keys.  What question could he possibly Google for his situation?

Harry twists his lion head ring around his cool finger as he thinks, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration while potential queries run through his head.  Ideas for a first date with a girl you’ve been fucking for a month.  Things to do in L.A. with a mortal when you’re a two hundred year old vampire.  Places to take someone after drinking their blood.  A snort echoes from Harry’s throat as the last idea pops into his head.  Somehow, Harry isn’t confident in what results those questions will show him.

Tapping his black lacquered nails against the keys, Harry purses his lips as he loses himself in thought.  How had he even gotten himself into this position?  The reason he hasn’t planned a date in centuries is because he doesn’t date, and for good reason.  What use does a soulless vampire have for dating?  Mortals use romantic outings to open their hearts to one another, and Harry, in contrast, can’t open what he doesn’t have. 

Despite his wondering, however, he knows exactly how he got himself into this situation: he let himself get jealous of a fake-tanned, shaggy-haired idiot named Jacob, a name that Harry despises on principle alone.  It had been a perfectly fine name until that awful Meyer woman decided to make it one of the banes of Harry’s existence.  And while Harry doesn’t have a particularly forgiving nature, he had just finally begun to get over the association, but thanks to that hallway confrontation at the end of Y/N’s date with the obtusely orange fool, Harry is now reminded that he will forever hate the name with a burning passion.  And shaggy hair.  And fake tans. And while the irony of him, a vampire—with a middle name of Edward, for Christ’s sake—hating an insignificant mortal named Jacob, simply because he dared to make a pass at the object of Harry’s fascination, is not lost on him, all of that was pushed aside the moment Harry smelled the perfume his fascination wore for the mortal boy. 

Y/N never wears perfume for him. And though she had assured him that her dressing up had been for him, he can’t shake the fact that Jacob had gotten to experience it first. 

It’s not that Y/N needs to wear perfume for him.  In fact, if Harry’s being honest with himself, he likes that she doesn’t spritz artificial scents all over her body before letting him into her home and between her legs.  She has one of the sweetest natural scents Harry’s ever had the pleasure of inhaling, all lavender and honey and utterly intoxicating.  Of course, as all mortals are, Y/N is unaware of the mouth watering fragrance that drips from her skin, while Harry is all too aware of it at all times, but her obliviousness to her natural scent doesn’t change the fact that Harry would bathe in it if he could.  If it were possible, Harry would pump an entire room full of her personal cloud of lavender and honey, lay back on the floor, turn down the lights, spark a joint, and let himself get lost in the very thought of her.  That would be Harry’s personal definition of Nirvana.

But Y/N isn’t aware of her natural, skin sweetening aroma like Harry is, which means two things.  Firstly, that Y/N doesn’t feel the need to smear anything unnatural on her body to attract Harry; she knows she doesn’t need to go through all that trouble.  And that was fine with Harry, until he realized the second thing, which is that there potentially could be someone that Y/N would go to all that trouble for if he doesn’t keep her entertained and occupied.  She had told him her date with Jacob hadn’t been on her terms, and that she’d done it just to be courteous towards a co-worker, but that doesn’t sedate the truth: There will always be a maddening possibility that occasions could come into play in which Y/N will spray a choking cloud of gardenia and freesia over herself, all in the hopes of appealing a suitor.  The issue is that in those hypothetical cases, the suitor Y/N would be trying to impress wouldn’t be Harry.

Actually, that’s only the first issue. The second issue is that it could be another fraternity moron with an equally stupid name. 

After the vampire had come upon Y/N ending her date in front of her door, just minutes before their own rendezvous was scheduled, Harry had felt an initial burst of blind rage, and everything after is a blur.  He vaguely remembers trying to make Jacob uncomfortable and delighting in how he succeeded, until he saw the anger on Y/N’s sweet face.  He remembers a brief discussion about limits and honesty, and about how she was only interested in him, and that he shouldn’t waste his time stressing about her supposedly dormant dating life.  And, most importantly, he remembers asking Y/N to accompany him on a real date, one that would blow her date with the VeggieTales carrot out of the water.

Now, of course, he’s beginning to regret his impulsive decision, purely for the fact that he now has to figure out how to woo a mortal girl just enough to keep her away from creeps with horribly coiffed hair.

And yet, despite this regret…there’s something new curling inside his belly as he types the phrase date ideas for L.A. into the search bar, the blinking cursor reflecting in his eyes before he presses the enter key and millions of results pop up.  Ah, the joys of the internet, he thinks as he scours the results with inhuman speed.  It’ll take Harry a few different clicks to find the perfect activity for himself and Y/N, and his hyperfocus on the topic will stop him from over analyzing that new feeling twisting inside him.

It’s a win-win situation, if he can say so himself.

Harry’s halfway through the first disappointing article (somehow, he doesn’t think taking Y/N on a hike is very romantic) when the door to his condo opens and reveals Mitch in the frame, dressed in his usual casual attire, this time of blue jeans and a plaid shirt.  Harry has spent the last century trying to refine the older vampire’s taste in clothing, even going so far as to once donate the entirety of Mitch’s closet to a homeless shelter, but all his efforts have been in vain, as his friend still insists on wearing the standard (and boring) style for every decade they’ve lived through together.

“Hey,” Mitch greets from the end of the corridor with a nonchalant nod, shutting the door behind himself before sauntering further into the living room. “Thought we were meeting at the bar at eight?”

It takes Harry a moment to remember the agreement Mitch refers to, his brow creasing as his eyes flicker to the corner of his computer screen.  By the time he registers the numbers 8:41 shining back at him, the memory of agreeing to get drinks with Mitch after his evening gig has resurfaced. “Fuck, I’m sorry.  I lost track of time.”

“I thought so.” Mitch moves the decorative pillow next to Harry on the couch, taking a seat in his usual spot. His voice is slightly sarcastic as he gives Harry a knowing look. “That’s been happening a lot lately.  Lapses in your memory and such.”

“It's old age, I suppose.” Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement, although he knows that Mitch’s comment is pointed towards a subject they’re both acquainted with, courtesy of Harry’s absence on their annual Vegas trip about a week prior. “It’s finally getting to me.”

The long-haired immortal makes a vague sound of humorous acknowledgement, but offers no other response as he turns his gaze to the younger vampire. 

Harry watches as his friend’s expert eyes appraise his appearance, examining how the older vampire takes note of the messy state of Harry’s hair that indicates he’s been tugging on it in frustration, the redness of his lips, the way he’s curled over his open laptop.  Although he makes no further comment on Harry’s newfound tendencies, his brows furrow in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh—” The amusement is replaced by an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness that sweeps through Harry’s entire body. “I’m doing research.”

When he’s given no other explanation, Mitch prompts his younger friend. “On?”

“I...asked that girl from the club out on a date— Y/N. Like, I invited her on a proper one.” Harry elaborates, twisting his lionhead ring around his finger as he speaks. “But I don’t really know, like, what to do with her.  I’m a little out of touch with what a typical twenty-something woman wants to do on a real date.”

And this is another thing Harry is usually good at— being confident and sure of himself.  Normally, he speaks with ease and a nonchalant cadence to his words, lacking any worry about how he’ll be perceived.  Harry knows what he wants, and knows how to articulate it.  Right now, however, he feels the complete opposite.  There’s a tension aching its way through his muscles and settling into the pit of his stomach, curling around those organs that haven’t been truly needed in years, and the utterly bemused expression weaving its way onto Mitch’s face doesn’t help.

The quiet vampire cocks his head to the side upon receiving this news, propping one foot up onto Harry’s coffee table and addressing him with a mocking air. “Why are you taking her on an actual date? From what you’ve told me— which isn’t much, and that strains our best friend reputation, if I’m being honest— I thought you two had an...understanding?”

“We did.  We do.” Harry stumbles over his words as he half shuts the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and giving Mitch’s foot a quick playful shove off the lacquered surface as he repositions himself. “But she went on a date with someone else, so I have to—”

“Are you jealous?” His friend cuts over him with an incredulous tone, and the disbelief sends a flare of something akin to shame through Harry’s body. “Because she had a date?”

“I’m not jealous.” With a firm voice, Harry manages to scoff at the very notion. “I may be a monster, but my eyes are red, not green. It’s just—”

“Well, technically, they are.”

The immortal ignores the shit-eating correction. “—occurred to me that our arrangement will end if Y/N starts seeing some mortal bloke. So, if she wants a relationship, then I can fabricate one for her.”

Although the excuse slips off his tongue easily enough, Harry refuses to meet Mitch’s eyes as he picks up his laptop and opens it again, clicking his way onto another article in the search results.  The older vampire’s stare feels as if it’s scorching his icy skin, and Harry can’t exactly say he enjoys the sensation, but it’s better than the alternative of admitting to Mitch—and to himself—that he may harbour the smallest trace of feelings for the human girl.

However, Mitch seems to buy the rushed explanation. “Fabricate a relationship?” He repeats, scratching the base of his chin slowly. “Doesn’t that seem a little...cruel?”

“It’s not.  It’s only for a bit, and once I’m done with her, I’ll probably just…” The words lodge in his throat for some unknown reason, but he forces them out. “I’ll probably just wipe myself from her mind, and she…” Harry’s sharp teeth tug on his plump bottom lip. “She won’t remember me.  It’ll be fine.”

Yes, Harry repeats to himself as he scrolls through all the results Google has to offer.  It’ll be fine.  It has to be fine, really, because what’s the alternative?  Harry’s kind aren’t exactly built for a long term commitment to anyone that’s less than immortal.  The kindest thing for him to do would be to let Y/N go now, without having to use compulsion at all.  It would be so simple, he thinks.  One small text, a few words along the lines of “it’s not working out, and we probably shouldn’t see each other again, I’m sorry. H.” would probably suffice.  And surely she’d be a little upset, but she’s mortal, and a mortal’s feelings never stay the same for long.  It would take her a few weeks, or maybe a month at most to get over the creature she’d begun a casual sexual relationship with.  Within a year, Harry and their short-lived friendship would be nothing but a small blip in her memory, and she’d be moved on to someone else.

Harry can see her future so clearly that he almost believes it’s shining through his laptop screen like an old film.  Y/N, going back out for the first time after Harry breaks things off.  Y/N, bumping into a handsome stranger with a bright smile and dull eyes.  Y/N, slumped over her kitchen table and fighting a hangover as the stranger hands her a cup of coffee.  Y/N and the stranger going for dinner.  Walking hand in hand.  Kissing goodnight at the door.  

Harry’s mind spins through scenarios faster and faster, racing through every possible future for Y/N before he can even take another breath.  Although some scenarios have different paths, different breakups, different faces, they always end at the very same place: Y/N in a white dress, walking down a flower strewn aisle, and taking the warm hand of someone who is not Harry.

If Harry needed to breathe, the wind would’ve been knocked out of him the moment he pictured those warm hands with blood pulsing beneath the skin lifting Y/N’s veil, cupping her flushed cheek, and sealing their lips to hers.  It’s a perfectly normal image.  A human pledging themselves to another human.  It’s natural, by human standards, as they seem to value monogamy over everything else.  The path Harry is seeing is the path Y/N was always meant to take.  So why does it make his icy blood curdle?

Mitch, who seems to be completely unaware of the wild road map his friend’s mind has just drawn, speaks out his concerns in a quiet but careful voice. “Are you sure you’re not getting too attached?” He asks, gauging Harry’s reaction to his question as if it’s a catastrophic statement. “You’ve been spending more and more time with her, you blew off the Vegas trip for the first time…” The older vampire gives a soft shrug of his shoulders. “If it were just for sex and blood, that would be one thing, but it’s almost like you’re getting…addicted to her.” 

Although the statement first brings a laugh to Harry's strawberry lips, the initial chuckle quickly fades away as the gravity of Mitch’s statement hits its recipient.  Certainly, he feels an indescribable draw to Y/N, but he knows, deep down, that any addiction he has to her is more so to her blood than anything else.  After all, what else could he possibly indulge?  The last time Harry let himself be addicted to a person, he ended up with a broken neck and newfound bloodlust.  He’s learned since then.  He’s not so naïve, or so foolish, as to let his emotions wander like that again. He knows better.

“There’s no addiction—I just like her blood more than others, that’s all.” Harry assures his friend, tapping his thumb against the band of his mother’s opal ring. “I know I’ve been a bit of a flake lately, but it’s just while I have her around.  I’ll get tired of her eventually; I always do.” He deliberately flashes his crimson eyes at his friend with a knowing smirk. “And then all it’ll take is a few choice words to take care of whatever lingering marks—metaphorical or otherwise— I’ve left on her, and it’ll all be done, and in the past. You know me, mate. Sometimes I like playing with my food.”

That last sentence makes his mouth go sour, almost as if his body is punishing him for uttering something so indifferently ruthless. Especially because deep down, there’s the smallest seed of doubt in his speech— the tiniest hint of uncertainty, telling him that the detachment he is playing up is not true. 

Harry forces it to be true. It has to be. Both for his sake, and Y/N’s. 

Mitch spends a long few minutes gazing into the blood red irises marching his stare, determined to find a crack in their façade. However, Harry’s good at hiding his feelings, given that he’s had decades of practice on how to keep a thick curtain draped over his innermost thoughts. He won’t let anyone see his weaknesses anymore, no matter how microscopic they might be. 

When the older monster’s search turns up empty, he repents with a long sigh, waving his hands free of the whole affair. “Whatever, Harry.  You seem to know what you’re doing.  Just be careful, alright?”

“I do know what I’m doing, thank you.” Harry elects to ignore the last statement Mitch tacked on, and instead flips his laptop around to show his friend his findings with a triumphant—albeit, forced—grin. “I’m doing brunch.  Google says girls Y/N’s age like brunch, and that the Persimmon Pantry in downtown L.A. has authentic crepes that are to die for.”

“Too bad you’re already dead.” The older vampire deadpans, pushing the laptop closed and raising himself from the couch into a standing position, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “If you’re going to be dating a mortal, do we get to meet her?  Because I think Niall may need a bit of a heads up after the accidental run in that happened last time—”

“Do you usually meet my meals?” Harry counters easily as he sets his laptop aside, standing to escort Mitch to the door. “Don’t be sentimental, Mitch.  I’m certainly not.”

When Mitch’s eyes meet his own once again, there’s a degree of clarity running through them that nearly stops Harry in his tracks. “Aren’t you?” Mitch asks, voice neutral by careful control. 

Harry sucks in a quick breath out of habit, pasting a bright expression over his face in lieu of actually revealing his swirling insides. “Not since I learned my lesson.” He says easily, tapping two fingers over his dormant carotid artery with a sly smile. 

The casual act does the trick, and Mitch’s eyes roll in a familiar jesting fashion as he steps towards the door. “Right.  You’ve got it under control, then.”

“All under control.” The words slip off Harry’s dry tongue like honey, his sweet cadence filling the space between them. “Not to worry.”

///

Y/N thinks this may be the most out of control she’s ever felt her entire life.

A few weeks ago, she would’ve said that taking Harry home from the club was the most out of control she’s ever been.  And three months ago, dropping her whole life and moving to L.A. might have been the answer to that question.  And another three months from now, Y/N might get herself into the middle of a new entirely stupid act— which is completely probable, given her track record— and that’ll become the new marker for the most out of control thing she’s done.  But right now, at this moment, the most out of control thing she’s done is say yes to Harry asking her out to brunch.

When compared to everything else she’s done with Harry—and let Harry do to her—brunch may seem entirely harmless, but it’s the connotation behind it that scares her.  Harry is taking her on a date.  A real date.  A date to a brunch restaurant, at 11 A.M. on a Sunday, when it’ll be completely bright outside, and people will see them together.  A date with both of them in presentable situations, rather than being coated in sweat and completely dressed.  A date where Harry refrains from whispering the filthiest fucking shit Y/N has ever heard into her ear, although she wouldn’t put it past him trying to do that over a plate of avocado toast.

Harry is taking her on a date.  And last time Y/N checked, she wasn’t exactly good at those.

Her ex hadn’t really been the romantic type, to say the least.  Their dates typically revolved around their high school’s dance and athletic schedules.  Bradley took her to homecoming and to prom, and football games on Friday nights, where all her friends would meet them at a diner after their school— more often than not— lost.  He would take her on long drives where they got nowhere fast, with the two of them sitting in silence, and his music playing through the speakers.  She went over to his house once a week for dinner.  He’d take her to a movie every second Saturday.  And while it was all fine, none of it was very romantic. ‘Robotic’ is a more appropriate term.

And even with the fear of actual romance aside, Y/N has no idea what to discuss on a first date with someone.  She had already known a lot about her ex when they began going out, so there wasn’t a period of “getting to know you” that needed to happen.  The few first dates she’d had after him hadn’t been stellar, or even noteworthy.  If anything, they had been guides for what not to do on a first date.  And the funniest thing is that, while she’s fairly sure her last first date had been the catalyst for Harry asking her out, the actual date itself had been awful.  But if she’s right, and that was the factor that set Harry off, then maybe she should be grateful for all those awful dates from her past, because Harry, in contrast to all those horrible dates, is different in every conceivable way.

Harry is just different.  When she speaks, he listens.  When he looks at her, he really looks at her, and he sees her in a way she’s not sure she’s ever been seen before.  And, honestly, he has seen her in ways she’s never been seen before, and that’s exactly what Y/N is worried about.  How do you sip a mimosa with someone at the Persimmon Pantry after they’ve throat fucked you on your couch, or bent you over the kitchen counter, or handcuffed you to their bed?  How do you ask someone about their favourite movie when they’ve coaxed multiple orgasms from you over the phone as Sinister played from the TV screen?  How do you listen as someone tells you about their childhood dog when the last dog you were concerned about was the position they bent you into as they spread your—

Y/N clears her throat and shakes her head of the thought, reevaluating her heated complexion in the mirror that hangs on the back of her bedroom door. “Stop it.” She mutters to herself, attempting to give her reflection a stern look. “You’re not going to be able to make it through this if you’ve thrown the towel in before Harry’s even picked you up.”

And that’s another thing, Y/N thinks, as she opens her bedroom closet and begins searching through it for something acceptable to wear.  Harry insisted on picking her up, even though the restaurant he chose was a fifteen minute walk from her apartment.  She’d brought this up to him when he asked her to brunch over the phone (which is a whole other thing in and of itself— he only called her when he had his hand wrapped around his cock and needed her voice to finish himself off; wouldn’t a text have been sufficient?), but Harry had blown off her concern without a second thought.

“Part of taking you on a date is picking you up, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but the Persimmon Pantry is between our apartments.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet there?  Then you wouldn’t waste your time driving past it to get me.”

“I don’t consider anything involving you to be a waste of time.” Harry had answered immediately, his voice stern, but still allowing a vein of tenderness to run underneath it. “Is that your only concern, then?  Me picking you up?”

No, Y/N had thought.  It’s not my only concern, but how the fuck do I explain everything else?

“Yeah.” Y/N had answered tightly, her voice weak. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, it’s not a concern of mine, so don’t worry.  I’ll pick you up at 10:45 Sunday morning.” And then there had been a pause, full of baited breath and nerves, before Harry’s thick accent rang through her phone again. “I can’t wait to see you.”

Those parting words had sat in her stomach since, warm and cozy and inviting, keeping a soft, constant glow filtering in her veins until the end of the week came. 

Y/N glances at the blinking clock beside her bed.  It’s 10:17 now, a couple days after that conversation, which means she has less than half an hour to pick something to wear, style her hair that’s currently dripping wet from her shower, and throw on enough makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes that have been developing over the last few nights.  After becoming so used to sleeping with Harry next to her every weekend, Y/N is now finding that not having him in her bed, smoothing her hair and rubbing her cheek as she cuddles into his cool chest is prohibiting her from getting a good night’s sleep.

Another concern, certainly, but not one she can deal with at this moment.  The best she can do is smear on some concealer and hope for the best, and with that in mind, Y/N turns her full attention to her evaluation of her closet.

“Brunch,” She murmurs to herself, slowly pushing her clothing apart to examine each article. “We’re going to brunch.  What do you wear to brunch?”

Brunch, she decides after a moment of consideration, is casual, but not sloppy casual, so jeans and a t-shirt are off the table.  It’s Sunday casual, like the outfits her mother would pick out for her to wear to Sunday afternoon teas with the other church women once she turned 15 and had to “start acting like a lady.”  Sunday casual, Y/N thinks, but maybe not those outfits.  The raised necklines and starched collars had made her neck itch the entire time, and she had picked at the hemlines of her dresses under tables until the seams began to unravel.  Sunday casual, but more of her actual style.  Sunday casual, but sluttier, maybe?  Could one describe Sunday casual as slutty?

Y/N groans as she takes a step back from her closet, clutching her towel to her chest with a tense hand.  Maybe she’s going about this the wrong way.  Maybe she should try to match Harry…? 

A sharp snort falls from Y/N’s mouth.  Yeah, like she could ever match Harry.  Harry, who is so obsessed with labels that even his handcuffs are embossed with the Gucci logo.  Harry, who is so attractive that it’s almost otherworldly.  Harry, who can make her tiny apartment look like a New York Fashion Week runway by simply walking down the corridor of her entrance.  Matching Harry is almost impossible.  She could show up in a full length gown, and Harry would still outshine her in a graphic t-shirt and flared jeans.

“Hey.” Y/N chastises herself lightly, catching her judgemental eye in her mirror once again. “Stop it.  Don’t be mean to yourself, just...just pick something to wear.  It shouldn’t be this hard.”

After returning to her closet search and trying on a few different combinations, Y/N finally settles on an outfit consisting of a pale yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline and tea length skirt, but dresses it down with a denim jacket and a pair of cotton candy coloured vans.  It’s bright and fun, but still casual enough that it looks like she just threw it on.  

“Oh, this old thing?”  Y/N raises her eyebrows in mock surprise as she moves to her bathroom to begin to tackle her hair.  She keeps practicing the imaginary conversation in the mirror with herself, and while she knows she sounds insane, it oddly keeps her nerves in check. “Oh, I just pulled it out of my closet a few minutes before you got here.  Haven’t worn it in years.  Do you like it?” The mortal pauses as she reaches for her makeup, deciding to keep herself to a more natural look for the day. “Thank you, Harry, that’s so sweet.  You look nice, as well.”

She lightly fills her brows before sweeping some neutral eyeshadow over her lids, pausing her muttering to herself to concentrate on drawing her eyeliner as neatly as she likes.  Once she’s satisfied with that, she moves to mascara, adding a thin coat to her lashes and blotting off the makeup she smudges underneath her eye by mistake.  When that’s finished, the young woman takes a step back from the mirror, appraising her appearance.

It’s not awful, honestly.  She could do worse.  In fact, if it weren’t for the ball of anxiety currently twisting its way through Y/N’s stomach, she might even praise herself for the cute and casual look she’s managed to pull off.

“You look good.” She murmurs to her reflection as she reaches for her small silver hoops, slipping them through her lobes with a quick and practiced motion. “Good job.” With her eyes locked on her reflection, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Today is going to be fine.  Better than fine, actually.  And it would probably go better if you stopped talking to yourself, so maybe let’s get that in check before Harry gets here—?”

As if on cue, a now familiar knock on her front door causes the mortal’s mouth to snap shut, clamping off the rest of her third person monologue.  When she makes a quick pause to straighten her jacket and fetch her over-the-shoulder woven bag, Y/N impulsively decides to grab her favourite perfume bottle, giving her body a quick spritz before making her way to the door and opening it with breathless anticipation.

Harry, of course, looks fucking incredible.  Although his casual outfit consists of a black short sleeved button up shirt tucked into white slacks, Harry manages to work the whole number like a model.  His usual cross necklace, unique rings, and stately single cross earring adorn his body, drawing Y/N’s eyes to the glint of the metals as a pair of black sunglasses sit atop the man’s defined nose.  He meets Y/N’s eyes behind them, a grin beginning to paint itself over his cherry lips as his jeweled hand pushes the sunglasses from his face and into his chestnut locks, revealing his bright jade gaze full of genuine kindness. 

“Well, look at you. Proper model now, aren’t you, Miss Urban Outfitters?” Harry’s voice takes on a casual tone, but the flirty phrase sends a shiver of pleasure down Y/N’s spine. “You look so fucking good in yellow, love.  Why have I never seen you in yellow before?”

The shiver of pleasure reverberates throughout Y/N’s entire body. “Maybe because I’m usually naked when I’m around you?” She retorts quickly, reaching to the little hook next to her door to grab her keys. 

“Hm.  That’s true.” The pleased cadence in Harry’s voice catches Y/N’s ear over the click of the door lock. “Guess you go for the Victoria’s Secret look more often, hm? Though I’m not complaining. You look just as good in lace.” 

“Thanks. But not today, I guess.” Y/N says quietly as she pushes down the heat boiling her face, unable to bite her tongue before the words slip out. “We’re on a real date today.”

“Right you are, Watson.” Harry grins cheekily as he motions for the girl to walk past him, following closely with a guiding hand on the small of her back. “We’re on a real date.  It’s probably a little overdue, but you know what they say...better late than never, right?”

The moment she takes a step past him, it hits Harry.  Although her delectable signature scent of lavender and honey is still there, it’s faintly hidden behind the nearly overpowering scent of gardenia and freesia he smelled last time he was in her hallway, when that oafish buffoon had the audacity to try and seduce her.  And despite the fact that Harry prefers Y/N’s natural fragrance to any other scent on the planet, knowing that she took the time to spritz herself with perfume before greeting him brings a dimpled smile to his face.  Harry considers making a comment about it, but bites it back at the last moment.  The last thing he needs is to have to explain why he pays such particular attention to Y/N’s scent.

When the pair exit the apartment building, Harry takes the lead in front of Y/N, unlocking his flashy car with a click of the remote and opening the passenger door with ease.  He extends a hand, grasping the mortal girl’s hand in his own with care as he helps her into the car.  The click of the car door shutting comes a moment later than expected as Harry pauses to fix the hem of Y/N’s dress, making sure it’s free of the doorway before closing the door without clamping the light fabric.

Harry doesn’t even think twice before readjusting Y/N’s skirt, with the move coming as naturally to him as breathing once did, and merely notes the stuttering of Y/N’s heartbeat with a half hidden smug smile.  It’s not until he’s in the driver’s seat and stopped at a red light that he realizes what that stuttering rhythm is indicating.

Y/N is tense.  Even without his supernatural abilities that allow him to hear her heart, register her strained breathing, and feel the energy radiating from her body, Harry would be able to tell that some part of her feels...uncomfortable.  Nervous, even.  But for what?  What about Harry—aside from the obvious that the human is unaware of—could make her nervous?  After the countless hours in bed together, the lazy Saturday afternoons, the kitchen singalongs, Harry would think that Y/N would be as comfortable with him as he is with her.  After all she’d shown him when they have sex—

Huh.  Maybe that’s it, Harry thinks, giving the mortal a quick look from the corner of his eye.  The light ahead of them turns green, and Harry continues to ponder his realization as he presses on the gas.  If sex has become the norm for them, then maybe a date is outside of her comfort zone.  Or maybe, now that her brain isn’t fogged by the endorphins that roll through her veins whenever Harry coaxes an orgasm from her trembling body, Y/N is realizing how unnatural it feels to be around Harry.  

As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, humans aren’t dumb.  If they get too close to someone of Harry’s kind, some sharp-sighted mortals begin to sense that there’s something different about them.  Aside from the easy targets and quick decisions, part of the reason that picking up meals in clubs works so well for Harry and his friends is that a mortal’s senses are dulled in the flashing lights and inebriated atmosphere of a club.  If Y/N is beginning to sense that there’s something different about Harry, or if she’s beginning to feel uneasy about being around him, then she must be wondering why.  In Harry’s experience, mortals will relate their uncomfortable feelings about the supernatural into something they have more experience with to make sense of it all, and if that’s what Y/N is doing, then she’s probably attributing her newfound discomfort towards Harry trying to take advantage of her.  If he could read her mind, he might see a horrific scene playing out like an old movie: Harry buying her a meal, soaking her rational thinking in mimosas and other drinks spiked with God knows what, and then helping her back to his car, where he drives her back to his apartment, practically carrying her inebriated body through the door towards his bedroom…

The car takes a sharp right turn into the restaurant parking lot, and Harry guides it to a spot with his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.  The idea of Y/N thinking him capable of that, capable of hurting her like that...it takes Harry a moment to extract his clenched hands from the wheel.  If that was really what Y/N was thinking, then he could fix it.  All it would take to set her at ease would be a quick request, a repeated statement, and the girl’s breathing would even out, and everything could continue like he had planned.

“Y/N?” He begins, keeping his voice as smooth as silk as he sets the car into park and turns it off. “Look at me, please.”

And then she does.  And Harry forgets his plan within a moment.

There’s nervousness apparent in her eyes, yes, but no fear.  Although her lips are chewed red, they don’t tremble when she answers him with a quiet “yes?” Despite their close proximity, she keeps leaning closer to him, and whether she’s aware of the action or not, the constant inch of her hand closer to Harry’s softens the immortal more than he thought possible.  He can’t compel her to let down her guard when she already trusts him.

“I know that this is different for us.  Doing something like this.” Harry begins, keeping his eyes as sincere as possible without compelling the young woman in front of him, who is keeping her eyes on his emerald irises with steadfast attention. “But I want this to be a proper date, like...like what I should’ve probably taken you on a month ago.”

Warmth rises to Y/N’s cheeks at the confession. “So do I.  I like being around you, Harry.  A lot.  I’m just a little...nervous, I guess.”

Harry bites back a smile at how she sounds like she’s confessing something, as if her body language hasn’t been telling him that from the moment she got into his car. “I know.  So I think it would be best, just to prove that this is a real date, if we don’t have sex after we finish brunch.”

A choked sound falls from Y/N’s mouth, and Harry delights in watching her scramble for words before she manages to form a half indignant reply. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep with you!”

“You don’t have to say it, pet, because we both know you can’t keep your hands off me.  Exhibit A,” Harry nods at her hand, which is mere millimeters away from his thigh. “Being how you kept trying to grab onto me through the entire drive.”

Another gasp of indignation fills the car, and the emphasized outrage sets Harry at ease.  He’d rather Y/N be equal parts annoyed and—if the soft look hidden behind her eyes is any clue—endeared than have her equal parts nervous and anxious.  He’d take any anger directed at his expense if it meant she was at ease. 

“I wasn’t trying to grab you.” The mortal mutters under her breath, her eyes falling from his as the increase of her heart pricks Harry’s ears. “That’s just where my hand fell naturally.”

“Right.” Harry answers in a disbelieving voice, his smirk growing as Y/N rolls her eyes in response. “Well, either way…” He extends a jeweled hand and grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying how her breath stutters as he turns her head to look at him. “What do you say?  No sex after our date?  Think we can behave ourselves?”

“I can.” Y/N answers, irritation laced through her voice to hide the desire settling between her words. “You, on the other hand...I doubt you’ll be able to keep it in your pants.”

A wry smile works it’s way over Harry’s lips, and the vampire wets them with his tongue as he uses his gentle grip on Y/N’s jaw to tilt her head forward. “I have wonderful self-control, darling.” He breathes the words, letting the scent of mint roll over Y/N’s face, and delights in the way it intoxicates her with every syllable.  Harry ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw, smudging his kisses down her neck until he can feel her pulse thumping unevenly beneath his lips.  His mouth opens just slightly as he leaves a lingering kiss on the area, his tongue gliding carefully over her sweet-scented skin. 

Despite every instinct in his body telling him to sink his teeth into the beating pulse he feels and quench the thirst that burns in the back of his throat like a roaring fire, Harry manages to pull away. “See?” He murmurs softly, his cool breath still clouding Y/N’s every inhale. “Self control.”

While Harry is a master at withholding his desires, the effect his actions have on Y/N is apparent in her reply. “Good.” The mortal swallows thickly, her pulse fluttering again as Harry releases her chin and drags his fingers down her neck. “That’s good to know.  So no sex, then.”

“Right.” Harry grins triumphantly as Y/N attempts to collect herself.  The smug expression on Harry’s face lets her know that he’s completely aware of the impact he has on her, and it drives her insane to no end.  Although her conscience is urging her to play his game, and do her best to fluster him as he flusters her, the more rational part of her stops that thought in its tracks.  This is what she wanted, wasn’t it?  To open herself up again, to open herself up to Harry in a way she hasn’t before?  To prove that she can let someone know her without burrowing themselves between her thighs?

The latch of her car door brings her from her thoughts, and her head jerks to the right to see Harry with one hand on the door handle as he extends the other to her to help her from the car.  Y/N, still fumbling with her seatbelt, takes a moment to grasp his hand in return, too swept up in the fact that Harry remembers to open her door to ponder how he always reaches her side of the car so quickly. 

However, there are some new developments that don’t slip from her attention, like how Harry keeps her hand grasped firmly in his icy grip even after she’s out of the car, pausing only to click the lock on his keyring before walking with her towards the door.  Or how, despite his long legs, he never falls out of step with Y/N, making sure to keep his strides measured and even so as not to yank on her hand.  Or how, even though her hand is already half extended out of habit, Harry reaches the door of the restaurant first, opening it smoothly and stepping back, gently laying his hand on the small of Y/N’s back to guide her inside the restaurant.

“Uh, thanks.” The young woman murmurs to him, a tone of perplexity running beneath her words.  She’s not quite sure why all of this surprises her; hadn’t Harry already proved that, despite his harsh and suggestive exterior, there’s an undercurrent of manners instilled into him?  

Maybe, she thinks as she watches Harry step forward to the restaurant host, the surprise and confusion is due to the lack of manners she received from her ex.  Despite the “small town charm,” as her mother had called it, Bradley had lacked the ability to successfully perform any gallantry, and any attempts he made to do so had only annoyed Y/N.  Whenever he tried to do something that may fall into that category, like insisting on driving everywhere they went, or choosing where they’d go for dinner, Y/N never felt that the actions came from a place of protection or chivalry; on the contrary, Y/N felt like each action was taken on the basis that she herself was incapable of doing the same things Bradley did.  On the one occasion she’d brought it up to him, he had scoffed, and argued that he was just trying to be a nice guy, and why would she have a problem with him trying to help her, and if she was going to complain, then he wouldn’t—

An icy touch to the dip of her back jerks Y/N from her thoughts, both metaphorically and literally as her body spasms away from the touch.  Upon hearing the alarmed gasp that falls from her lips, Harry turns his head to the side, a look of concern painted over his face.

“Everything alright, darling?” He asks in a quiet voice, his hand retracting from her back with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, sorry, just—caught up in thought, I guess.” Y/N covers quickly, giving him an apologetic smile. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

If the way the mortal shivers is any suggestion, Harry can guess what exactly about his touch took her by surprise. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, his fingers hovering a few millimeters above the fabric of her dress. “The, uh, the table I reserved is just on the patio around the corner.” Although he lays his hand on Y/N once again to guide her, Harry is careful to place his palm further up her spine, where the sensitive skin of her back is covered by her jean jacket in addition to the thin yellow sundress.  As much as he usually adores making her shiver, there’s something different about the action when he knows it’s because of his inhumanly cold touch, instead of his inhuman ability to pleasure her. 

The pair move in a line, following the hostess in a beeline through the busy restaurant and out onto the sunlit patio, where there are fewer occupied tables.  Stopping in front of a table partly shaded under an umbrella that’s away from the other diners, the hostess turns to the two of them, her eyes flickering over Harry once again.

“Is this table to your liking, Mr. Styles?” She asks, her voice sweet as sugar.  The stickiness of it grates against Y/N’s skin, but Harry gives no indication of finding it irritating.  In fact, he seems to give hardly any notice to the hostess at all, only half glancing at her before nodding his head. 

“Yes, it is, thank you.” He steps out to the side, grasping the back of the chair facing away from the sun and pulling it out.  It takes Y/N a moment and a half step already taken towards the opposite chair for her to realize that he’s pulling it out for her.

“Oh—” Face flushing with realization, Y/N steps back around Harry, settling down into the offered seat as he carefully pushes it in. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry replies, pausing to be sure she’s comfortable before taking his own seat across from her.  The hostess, who had been watching his actions with a keen eye, gives another smile to the vampire.

“Alright, Paige will be your server today, but before I leave,” The hostess spares a short glimpse at Y/N before turning her full attention back to Harry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The creature is aware of the effect he has on mortals, and has been since he was first turned.  While he normally plays that to his advantage (and while that was, to be frank, part of the reason he was able to take Y/N home from the club the night he met her), the attention is beginning to grind against his nerves.  It’s easy enough for him to ignore a human, especially one he has no interest in whatsoever, but he can see the way Y/N notices the hostess’ preference for addressing Harry.  More specifically, Harry can see the way it bothers her, and it would be amusing if his jealousy over Y/N going on a date with someone else hadn’t been the catalyst to their date today.

“No, that’s alright.” Harry finally responds to the waitress, glancing at her just enough so as not to be rude. “Thank you.”

The hostess smiles at him again before nodding to Y/N and turning on her heel, marching back towards the kitchen, and it takes just a soft snort falling from Y/N’s lips to pull Harry’s attention completely back to her.

“What?” He quirks an eyebrow up at the noise, reaching for the menu in front of him and flipping it open slowly. “Something funny?”

Y/N gives a small shake of her head as she mimics Harry’s action, casting her eyes downwards towards the now revealed menu. “No, not at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” The vampire reaches across the table to touch his date’s hand, flipping her arm carefully so he can lay two ringed fingers against the thin skin of her wrist, the fragile hummingbird flutter of her heart thumping beneath it. “And I’m too excellent at reading people to let it go.”

“Too stubborn, you mean?” Y/N corrects him as she raises her own brow, but much to Harry’s delight, she doesn’t pull back from his icy touch as she did earlier. 

Harry shrugs lightly, an unconcerned air tinting his attitude. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.  Either way, I’d like to know why you’re laughing at me.”

The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek, the action of her weighing her next words clearly written all over her face. “You seriously can’t tell me you don’t notice it.”

Cocking his head to the side, Harry gently yet consistently continues to stroke two fingers over Y/N’s velvety skin, the heat of her veins burning beneath his touch. “Notice what?”

Although she opens her mouth, Y/N’s reply is cut off by the clicking of high heels approaching their secluded corner, and it’s only a moment before a waitress (whom she assumes is Paige) is standing in front of their table.  Like her coworker before her, Paige gives a brief hello to Y/N before turning all of her attention to Harry, smiling brightly at him as she gives her opening spiel.

“Hi!  My name is Paige, and I’ll be your server today.  Can I get some drinks started for you?” She asks, her hands clasped tightly in front of her (Y/N always hates when servers don’t write down orders; she knows it looks impressive, but the attention it takes to remember exact specifications gives her secondhand anxiety) as she addresses Harry.  

The order is right at the tip of Harry’s tongue. “We’ll have two mimosas, please.  And two ice waters, as well.” He replies, smiling briefly at her as his fingers continue to glide over Y/N’s wrist.  The girl catches the way Paige’s eyes flicker to the movement, her (just barely) professional smile shifting for a fraction of a second before fixing itself, and while Y/N knows that it’s irrational, a small part of her can’t help but be pleased.

“Sounds good.  I’ll be right back with those.” She chimes giddily, her heels clicking against the ground once more as she walks away.

The moment she’s left, Harry has his full attention turned back to Y/N. “You didn’t answer my question.” He murmurs, his emerald eyes alight with curiosity. “Notice what?”

An exasperated sigh sounds from Y/N as she makes a face. “The way they stare at you.” She answers, jerking her head over her shoulder towards the restaurant door. “The hostess, the server—they were both practically undressing you with their eyes.  Are you telling me you didn’t notice that?”

Harry’s curious expression drops as he begins to shift in his seat, the stroking of his fingers over her wrist pausing for just one moment.  Ah, Y/N thinks.  Here it is.  A confession that, yes, Harry did notice it, and Harry (and his ego) loved the attention, and he—

“I noticed it, yeah.” He begins, a reluctant look painting itself onto his statuesque features as a finger on his free hand rubs over his lion head ring.

A glum feeling of satisfaction settles into Y/N’s stomach, and she pulls her hand back a few inches, completely removing it from Harry’s grasp. “I thought so—”

“But I didn’t see the point in mentioning it.” Harry continues, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m here with you.  Why would a spare look from a hostess or a server be anything but inconsequential to me?”

Huh.

“I…” For once, Y/N is stunned into silence. “Well, I just thought—”

“Y/N.” Her name sounds like a melody when it falls from Harry’s mouth, and the sincerity layered in his voice makes her snap her eyes to his. “Do you truly think I would flirt with a waitress on a date I asked you on?  Does that sound like me?”

“Well, honestly…” Harry’s stare bores into hers, prickling Y/N’s skin with the new and nearly uncomfortable sensation of being seen. “I don’t want to think so, but considering how we met…”

“Ah.” Harry’s lips turn down into a small grimace, but quickly right themselves as he once again grasps her hand in his two large palms. “I won’t pretend that I’m not a bit of a—”

“Whore?”

Harry’s lip twitches in amusement again at the blatant tone of the girl’s voice. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about you slut-shaming me?”

The flush that overtakes Y/N’s face indicates that she remembers. “Yes, we did.  But I seem to recall you agreeing.  After you teased me for it, of course.”

“Of course.  We both know how much you love teasing.” Harry digs his nails ever so slightly into her wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull a small gasp from her mouth as his grip begins to mimic the handcuffs that she had begged him to use on her. “But all that aside...I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what they think of me.  I’m here with you.  Despite most of my flaws, my mother raised me right.  I wouldn’t do that to you.”

The thunderous thumping of Y/N’s heart rings through Harry’s ears, a constant reminder of why he’s here.  Beneath her soft skin, beneath every telltale mark and scar, beneath her glittering eyes and silky lips, there’s the thing that keeps Harry alive.  Rushing through this girl’s arteries is the sustenance that Harry needs to survive, the sweetest liquid he’s ever consumed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it at his beck and call.  If being the gentleman of Y/N’s dreams is what will keep her available for him, then that’s what he’ll do.  The pounding of her heart is the beat that keeps him in time with the tune of his life.  It’s nothing more and nothing less. 

Still, Harry chooses his next words attentively, to bring back a joking manner to the conversation. “Someone must have done a number on you, huh?  Was everything not so charming in Smalltown, USA?  Did your parents split when you were a kid?”

And although Harry asks the questions with a smirk on his face, laughter in his voice, and mirth in his eyes, he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest, how her hand tenses beneath his, and how her eyes drop for a fraction of a second.  He’s touched a nerve, one that is obviously frayed and hurting, and the regret that instantly washes over him is tinged with the confusion of how he’s capable of feeling such an emotion so intensely. 

“Um—” While Y/N knew that she had to tell Harry about her disastrous dating history sooner or later, she had really hoped it would be later rather than sooner.  Is a discussion about one’s scumbag ex appropriate first date talk?  Can she bring it up now, or should she wait until they’ve finished their appetizers? 

“Alright, so I have two mimosas and two waters for you…” Paige’s return distracts Y/N from her dilemma for just a moment as the server sets down the four glasses in front of the respective recipients.  With her attention turned back to Harry, she takes a step back from the table. “Are you ready to order?”

Y/N’s eyes snap to the open menu in front of her, which had become the least of her concerns over the last few minutes. “Oh, I haven’t—”

“We’ll get two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, please.” Harry closes his menu before reaching for Y/N’s and repeating the motion, handing them back to Paige with a charming yet neutral smile. “And a side of hashbrowns, please, to share.”

Brow furrowing as the server scurries away without giving her a second glance, Y/N gapes at Harry, her voice wrought with confusion. “Why did you order for me?”

Harry raises his mimosa to his lips and takes a long sip, setting the condensation-covered glass back down on the table before replying. “You didn’t know what you wanted, and the crepes are delicious.  Did you want something else?” With a lick of his red lips, he glances over his shoulder. “I can call her back if—”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Y/N wraps her hand around the alcoholic drink, swirling her finger over the cold glass. “I can order for myself.  I’m a grown woman.  Do you think I’m not capable or something?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, appraising how the mortal’s expression is closing off with every passing moment.  This bothers her, he realizes.  The idea of him not thinking she’s capable of something bothers her, enough that she’s clenching her glass, and her normally clear eyes are swirling with anger more and more with every passing moment.

“I know you’re capable, Y/N.  I just thought that…” Shifting in his seat, Harry clears his throat as he gathers his words in his mind.  Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking the questions? “It’s supposed to be polite.”

“In what century?” She replies, her mouth falling agape in surprise as her eyes widen. “Men used to order for women because women weren’t allowed to, right?  Because men made the decisions?  Holding open a door is one thing, but choosing for me—”

“Okay, maybe choosing for you was impolite.  I thought you were unsure on what to order, but I should’ve asked first.  I’m sorry.” Harry half mumbles the apology as an uncomfortable feeling of shame begins to buzz in his stomach. “But the ordering thing, that— men did that as a sign of respect, so women wouldn’t have to talk to someone they didn’t know.  I really didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.  My mum just taught me that it was polite, so I...it’s a habit.  I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.”

He watches as Y/N chews her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating the authenticness of his apology.  Everything he had said was true, of course.  His mother did teach him that it was polite to order something for a date so she wouldn’t have to speak to someone she doesn’t know.  Of course, it was also true that the practice had died out a century ago, and most women now preferred to speak for themselves.  Harry can’t begrudge Y/N if she dislikes what he did; she’s proved time and time again that she can be rather independent.  However, Harry’s surprised at the disappointment he feels about her reaction.  If this is going to be a proper date, he’d like to hold it up to his standards of proper.

“Alright.” The mortal says after a moment, releasing her lip from her teeth and finally raising her mimosa to her mouth. “You’re forgiven.  But I think I’ve earned the right to compensation for your assumptions.”

“Compensation could be arranged, I suppose.” Harry leans forward with a sly grin, his fingers finding the delicate skin of Y/N’s wrist once more. “I feel like I’ve been fairly firm on the no sex thing, but I could pencil you in for some compensation tomorrow evening, if that works for you.”

Y/N swirls the liquid in her glass as she bites back a smirk. “I was thinking of something a little different than an orgasm, actually.”

“What could possibly be better than an orgasm given by me?” Harry questions, his free hand fingering the cross around his neck. “Didn’t you once compare them to a gift from God?”

“I don’t recall ever saying that, actually.” The mortal girl replies in a dry voice, setting her glass down with a decisive thunk. “I don’t want an orgasm—”

“Oh, that’s a bloody lie—”

“I want information.” Tapping her fingers against the table, Y/N stares Harry down with firm eyes. “Like where did you grow up that your mother taught you it was appropriate to speak for a woman?  Or why have you avoided any personal questions I’ve tried to ask over the last month?”

Harry retracts his hand from Y/N’s wrist as she voices her inquisition, settling his fingers on the rim of his mimosa to begin tracing the smooth glass. “To be fair, pet, you haven’t asked many personal questions.  You’ve been too busy bouncing on my cock, haven’t you?”

“Maybe, but I won’t be today, as per our agreement.” Y/N steeps her fingers together as she leans towards him, the comical sight of her posture forcing Harry to repress a snort. “And you brought up personal questions first, Holmes.  So you kind of screwed yourself, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did.  I’ve gotten so used to you doing the screwing, Watson.  Guess I’m getting sloppy— although you seem to like that.” Harry can’t help but get in one last dig before conceding, taking a long gulp of his beverage before smacking his lips. “I’ll tell you what.” He says, pointing a jeweled finger at his date with his glass still wrapped tightly in his hand. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N quirks up an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Let’s play a little question game.” Harry sets down his glass as he elaborates, his signature smirk growing over his cherry lips. “We alternate questions back and forth, asking whatever we’ve wanted to know.  And the other person has to answer it honestly.”

Or as honestly as possible, Harry amends in his head.  For obvious reasons, he’ll have to fabricate the majority of his answers, but that’s nothing new to him.  Over the years, he’s had to create multiple spiels about his childhood, taking tiny pieces of truths and weaving them together with updated lies.  Spitting out a few standard stories about where he grew up and why he left London is small change compared to his burning desire to know more about Y/N’s past.  

The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek again, weighing her options in her head as she holds Harry’s questioning stare.  As much as she hates to discuss her life story, and as much as she’d been hoping to hide it from Harry, she knows that she has to be honest with him if she wants him to be honest with her.  As awkward as it may be, she’ll have to tell the stories sometime.

“Alright.” She relents after a moment, blowing out a harsh breath and lifting her mimosa to her lips. “But I get to ask the first question.  Ladies first, and all that.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry flashes a cheeky grin at her, his left eye dropping into a quick wink. “Start your inquisition, Watson.”

Harry’s been in this position millions of times, so he knows the types of questions that are about to tumble from Y/N’s pretty lips.  She’ll start off by asking where he grew up, and where he went to school, and how many siblings he has, before moving to things like why he moved to L.A., and how he made friends, and—

“What else did your mother teach you, besides manners?” Y/N asks suddenly, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop of liquid on her bottom lip as she lowers her glass. “And what was the most important thing?” 

The nature of the question catches Harry so off guard that he doesn’t remember to quell the throb in his chest where his heart used to beat at the mention of his mother, and the old half healed wound flares with pain.  What had his mother taught him?  Harry ponders the question as Y/N’s curious eyes ponder him.  What hadn’t she taught him? 

“My mother taught me…many things.  Many good things.  She was a wonderful woman.” Harry begins honestly, albeit carefully, speaking in a measured voice as his eyes fall to her opal ring that sits upon his pinky. “She taught me how to read as a child, before I began school.  She taught me...she taught me how to cook a bit.  I’m not nearly as good as she was, but I’m passable.  And yes, she did teach me how to behave around women, how to be respectful.  But the most important thing…”

Y/N watches as Harry’s eyes bore into the ring on his finger, as if he’s staring into a crystal ball of the past to search for an answer.  Perhaps, in a way, he is. 

“The most important thing,” Harry repeats again, his eyes finally snapping away from the entrapment of the ring. “Was how to let someone know you appreciate them.  It’s easy, I think, to go about your day without telling someone you care for them.” Stroking his thumb over the band of the ring, Harry thinks back to the countless ways his mother had wordlessly shown Harry and his sister how much she adored them. “Little touches, or little favours, things like that— those go a long way.  They help someone feel less alone.  They can be the difference between a good day and a bad day.  She used to, um,” A lump suddenly develops in his throat, and Harry struggles to swallow it down as he voices a memory he hasn’t spoken aloud in over a century. “She used to comb her fingers through my hair when I was a little boy, whenever I was upset.  I’d come home from—“ Harry cuts himself off before he mentions his father’s blacksmith forge, where he was an apprentice. “—from school, and she would take one look at me and be able to see I was frustrated.  She always sat in this big chair in front of the fireplace, and she’d pat her lap, and I’d sit in front of her knees and lay my head on her leg, and she’d card her fingers through my hair as I told her every bad thing that happened that day.” Unconsciously, Harry raises his own hand to his chestnut curls, raking his fingers through them.  The motion doesn’t bring nearly as much comfort as it once did. “She always listened.  She never made me feel like my problems were silly.  She just listened.  It made me feel better.  Made me feel…” The vampire’s hand drifts from his hair to his lips, rubbing over them pensively. “Loved.”

The mortal girl’s eyes soften as she listens to the memories of the man in front of her, who begins to look younger and younger with every word that falls from his lips.  Although she’s surprised by the candor of his answer, it pleases her; she thought pulling truths from Harry would be like pulling teeth.  One note of his story, however, catches her attention with an ache. 

“You said...you said she was a wonderful woman.” Y/N murmurs, carefully gauging Harry’s reaction to the question. “Is she...not anymore?”

“I’m sure she would be, but she passed away a…a while ago.” Harry’s eyes shift to the ring again, the dainty band with its opal stone standing out from the rest of his chunky jewelry.  Y/N wonders if that’s because it once belonged to someone else. “She got sick, and couldn’t get better.”

With a careful but tender motion, Y/N slides her hand across the table and settles it on top of Harry’s, cupping his larger hand in her smaller grasp. “I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in her voice snags Harry’s attention, and the vampire looks up to find the mortal staring at him with understanding eyes. “I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.  You must miss her very much.”

It takes Harry a moment to clear the lump from his throat enough that he can choke out a response. “I-I do, yeah.  Every day.” He’s not sure if it’s his icy skin or the burn of Y/N’s touch, but he slowly pulls his hand from beneath her grasp, reaching for his glass of ice water instead.  He gulps down half the liquid, setting the cup down with a decisive thunk before pasting a strained smile onto his face. “But that’s enough of my sob story, don’t you think?  It’s my turn to ask a question.”

A small frown works its way over Y/N’s face as Harry pulls away, and she clasps her now empty hands together around the stem of her mimosa glass. “Fine.  What do you want to know?”

“The answer to my previous inquiry.” Harry’s emerald irises sweep over her figure, his tongue poking between his teeth as his simper becomes more genuine. “Someone must’ve really done a number on you if opening a door for you is a shock.  What’s the story there?”

Although she knew that this would be Harry’s first question, Y/N still bides her time by knocking back the rest of her mimosa in one swift gulp, wrinkling her nose at the lingering taste that catches in the back of her throat. “His name was Bradley.” She begins, tapping a fingernail against the delicate glass. “And he—”

“So sorry to cut you off, darling, but,” Harry raises a finger to pause her speech, his rings glinting in the L.A. sun. “Bradley?  You fucked someone named Bradley?”

“It was a small town!  It’s not like I had many options!” Y/N argues hotly, her eyes rolling harder than they ever have before. “Now are you going to be quiet and listen politely, or are you going to keep interrupting me before I can even begin?”

Harry laughs once, shaking his head with an amused air. “Sorry.  Continue.” Despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, Harry raises a hand to the corner of his mouth, pretending to lock it shut with an imaginary key.  He even takes care to slide the invisible key into his shirt pocket, patting it with satisfaction once the deed is done. 

Y/N takes one more moment to glare at him, but Harry’s newfound silence continues, and so she does, as well. “His name was Bradley.  I met him through a mutual friend in our freshman year of high school.  I’d seen him around before, but we’d never talked, really.  And after he asked me to Homecoming, he just kind of…stuck.” The girl shrugs in a way of explanation. “Like, he started coming around more to my house, taking me out to movies.  And it was nice.  The attention, I mean.  There was no one else I was really interested in at school, and Bradley was cute, and he was friendly, and our families really liked each other.  It made sense.”

As she speaks, a crease works its way between Harry’s perfectly sculpted brows.  Most mortal romances, he’s come to find, are rather dull, but this one seems more boring than others, and he can’t stop himself from raising his jeweled hand in the air as if he were in one of the classes Y/N mentioned, waiting for the teacher to call on him for an answer. 

When Y/N notices the hand, an exasperated sigh falls from her mouth, but she leans across the table and retrieves the imaginary key from Harry’s shirt pocket, her warm fingers leaving pinpricks of fire across his chest.  A small smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as those warm fingers touch the lifted spot, mimicking an unlocking motion before she sits back in her seat. “Yes?”

Harry rests a bent elbow on the table, propping his chin up on his fist as he leans forward. “I have a question.” He begins innocently, watching as Y/N narrows her eyes at his sudden polite intrigue.

“Yes?” She repeats again, wariness written into her tone as she evaluated the suspicious air of Harry’s behaviour. 

“I was just wondering how big Bradley’s dick is.” Harry’s grin grows to wicked proportions as Y/N’s mouth falls open in shock. “Because, honestly, he doesn’t seem to have that much going for him, and I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why you dated him, and the only answer I can come up with is—“

“That his dick must be huge?”

“That he’s well endowed, yes.” Harry finishes smugly, tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m curious.  Are we talking about a carrot?  A cucumber?  A zucchini?” Lip twitching again, Harry stifles a laugh as Y/N’s face hardens with exasperation. “A stalk of celery?  I suppose the length could be a selling point, but if there’s not enough girth to fill you—”

“His dick wasn’t the reason I dated him.” Y/N replies flatly, a deadpan stare meeting Harry’s mirth filled eyes. “Although, since you’re curious…it was the size of a cucumber, but not an English cucumber.  More of a garden variety.  Not incredibly girthy, but good for a beginner.”

“A beginner?” Intrigue sparks at the pit of Harry’s belly (along with what he thinks is jealousy, but he’ll wait to dissect that at a later date) as the vampire leans forward more. “This bloke was your first?”

“We were together for years, so—” Y/N cuts herself off with a shake of her head, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger nervously. “No, wait, that’s another question!  You don’t get another question if I didn’t!”

“But you haven’t finished answering my first question—”

“I would if you’d stop interrupting!” Silencing Harry with a stern look, Y/N holds up her left hand, pinching two of her fingers together. “Do I need to pretend to lock your mouth again like I would a seven year old, or can you sit and listen like an adult for five minutes?  What happened to that old fashioned chivalry from earlier?”

Harry lets out a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair with proper posture.  He takes a moment to adjust himself, straightening his back, fixing the fall of his shirt, adjusting his cross, planting his feet on the ground of the patio, and finishing off the show by rolling out his shoulders before squaring them. “Alright, I’m sorry.  I’m ready to listen.  Please continue.”

The young woman inhales deeply, testing Harry’s rapt attention as she takes her time sipping her ice water.  When she sets the glass down and finds that Harry has stayed perfectly still, his irises glued to her, she continues. 

“So Bradley and I got together our freshman year, and stayed together for the rest of high school.  It was comfortable.  His mom liked me, and my parents liked him.  He came to church with us—” Y/N notes that Harry’s eyebrow lifts a quarter of an inch, but only for a moment before dropping back down into its neutral state. “—and he and I went out once or twice a week.  He was…nice.  But he didn’t do the stuff that you do, the…etiquette stuff.” She taps an index finger against the table, thinking back to all the movie and diner dates that have blurred together in her mind. “Well, he’d try, I suppose, but not in the way you do.  Whenever he did something that was supposed to be chivalrous or gallant, it felt like he was doing it because he thought I was incapable.  And when I brought it up, he got mad.” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shy shrug as she smiles apologetically at Harry. “That’s why I didn’t understand you ordering for me.  I know you didn’t mean it in the way he did, I can tell that, but it just kind of…reminded me of him.  It left a bad taste in my mouth; he left a bad taste in my mouth, I guess.”

A beat of silence falls between them, and the intense way that Harry is looking at her is prickling the hair on the back of Y/N’s neck. 

“I get that.” The brunette speaks after a moment, voice low and accent thick. “Being haunted by someone.  Even after they’re gone, even after time passes…something can remind you of them, and it can be enough to bring you to your knees.”

Although Harry’s eyes are locked on hers, Y/N has the distinct feeling that he’s seeing someone else in her place.  Before she can ask what he means, however, he’s blinked himself out of the self-imposed trance. 

“So what was the final straw?” Harry clears his throat quietly as his mind comes back to the present. “Between you and Cucumber Dick?”

A tiny giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth despite her far from humorous answer. “Well—”

The telltale clicking of heels interrupts the unspoken thought, and within a moment, Paige is standing next to their table once again, a tray balanced on her hand with precision as she offers another one of her smiles to Harry. “Here you go—two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, and a side of hash browns.” The server sets the first plate down in front of Harry, but he quickly lifts it again and sets it down carefully in front of Y/N before accepting the second dish.  He repeats the motions with the hash browns, sliding them to the middle of the table and within Y/N’s reach. 

“Thank you.” Harry speaks with a kind tone, but offers no other comment to the girl, who’s allowed her eyes to slide to the dark ink that decorates Harry’s arms. 

“Of course.” Paige stutters, giving no pretense of paying attention to Y/N. “Could I get you anything else?”

Harry glances at Y/N’s empty mimosa glass, raising an eyebrow in question. “Would you like another drink?” He asks her slowly, his voice unsure.  Normally, he’d just order a second one for her without a thought, but now that he knows how she feels about him ordering for her, he’ll have to work on beating back that particular bit of Victorian etiquette. 

“I would, yes.” Y/N replies with a smile as she touches the stem of her empty glass. “Thank you.”

A strained smile flickers over Paige’s lips. “No problem.  I’ll be right back.”

Harry nods in satisfaction as he watches the server retreat. “There.  We have a few more minutes.  Keep talking.”

“Ah ah ah.” Y/N picks up her fork and sticks it into the hash browns, pulling away a crispy bite for herself. “I think I get to ask a question now, especially since you’ve crammed a few different inquiries into your last turn.”

“And here I was, thinking you loved when I crammed things into—”

“Harry.”

A teasing smile breaks across the vampire’s face, more genuine than Harry thought possible. “Fine.” He relents, cutting the corner off his crepes and popping the savory bite into his mouth. “What else would you like to know?”

Where to begin?  Y/N considers his question pensively as she takes a bite of her own crepe, her expression raising in surprise when she finds that she enjoys Harry’s entrée choice.  The smokiness and spice of the chorizo is undercut by the tangy saltiness of the cheese, all wrapped together with a few garnishes in the perfectly cooked crepe.  Savoring the bite as she chews, Y/N begins to run through the list of questions in her head. 

She could ask more about his family, but if the aching sadness that had radiated off of him at the mention of his mother was any hint, any answers Harry could give on that topic may be off tone for a first date.  And while inquiring about what he said before, about being haunted by someone seems promising, it may also be a bit too much.  As much as she dislikes talking about her personal life, she gets the feeling that Harry absolutely abhors it, and while she was surprised about him asking her on a date, she’s been even more surprised to find herself enjoying it.  The last thing she needs is to fuck that all up by interrogating him about an ex. 

With those two possibilities pushed aside, only one burning question is left on the tip of Y/N’s tongue, and she hurriedly swallows her mouthful of crepe before letting it fall. “Alright, I’ve got it.” Cocking her head to the side, Y/N points her fork at the man in an accusatory manner. “Did you ask me out on this date just because you were jealous I was out with Jacob?  Was that the only reason?  Because you saw me with him, and you didn’t like it?”

Harry wraps his ringed hand around his water glass, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the surface as he pulls a face.  Even if he wanted to be honest with Y/N about this, Harry isn’t quite sure what the honest answer would be.

“I’ll admit, I was a little…bothered by it.” Reluctance is threaded through every word that Harry manages to spit out. “Moreso by your taste in men than anything else— Jacob wasn’t exactly up to par.”

“It wasn’t like I chose him myself.” Y/N retorts, pulling a grape from the bunch of side fruit on her plate and popping it into her mouth. “Was that really all that bothered you?  That he wasn’t up to par?”

Tapping his fingers against the wooden table, Harry takes a moment to ponder the question. “No.” He says finally, deciding to continue his honesty streak. “No, that wasn’t all that bothered me.  You’re right, I didn’t like seeing you with him, but it wasn’t because of him.  Not entirely, anyways.  I can’t imagine I would’ve liked seeing you with anyone.”

A light flush works its way over the mortal’s cheeks, and Harry can hear the stuttered thumping of her heart. “Why?” She asks in a half whisper, her teeth worrying her bottom lip unconsciously. “Why is that?”

Harry muses the various answers he could give as Paige brings them refills on their mimosas.  It’s not like he can tell her that he wants to keep her available for snacking whenever he gets a little thirsty.  Well, he could, but then he’d have to wipe her mind, and he’s not particularly inclined to do that at the moment.  And, if he’s being honest with himself…he’s not entirely sure that’s the truth anymore.  Is sheer convenience the reason behind his terrible reaction to Y/N seeing someone else?  Or is that reaction linked to the way he felt when she opened her door to him that morning, and the sight of her all dolled up for him hit him like a truck?

Either way, none of those answers are suitable to confess in the moment, so Harry merely gives a dimpled grin. “That’s another question, darling.  We’re not very good at limiting ourselves, are we?”

“I suppose not, no.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as she takes a sip of her fresh mimosa, her eyes watching Harry over the rim of the glass. “Your turn, then.  What else do you want to know?”

What else would he like to know?  Harry thinks, taking another bite of chorizo as he mulls over the question.  Now that the floodgates have opened, now that he has the opportunity, now that he has the ability to ask, Harry wants to know everything.  He wants to know what makes Y/N tick, what her pet peeves are, and if she prefers mornings or nights.  He wants to know what her favourite school subject was, if she was ever in her school’s plays, or on any of the sports teams.  He wants to know her favourite flavour of ice cream, what TV shows she binge watches when she wants to distract herself, and if she’s really read all those books that line the floor to ceiling shelf in her room.  He wants to know her, he realizes.  She’s more fascinating than he ever thought possible, and her blood is more addicting than he knew.  He wants to know every aspect that molded her into the person sitting before him.  And one of those aspects is—

“Why did things end between you and Bradley?” He finally asks, his voice low and cautious. “Was it mutual, or...?”

Despite the time Harry took to think of his question, Y/N knew exactly what it was going to be, and she has her answer ready to go the moment the words roll from Harry’s pillowy lips. “He was cheating on me.” She admits with a sigh, her eyes glued to her mimosa glass as she swirls the orange liquid within it. “He went away for university, and I stayed home.  I guess he met someone at school.” Allowing her eyes to flick up to Harry for a moment, Y/N finds the man staring at her blankly with a harsh crease between his brows. “I kind of thought it was going to end, honestly.  He began to get more and more distant...we’d talk less over Skype or the phone...but I didn’t think he’d…” She trails off for a moment, thinking back to the day she found out. “Well.  He did.  I found out from his roommate, and the next day, he and I were through.  And almost five years of memories, time together, shared moments...all of that was just gone.”

Although it’s been years since things ended, and Y/N has moved on in tenfold, she can’t help the way her voice aches at the end of her explanation, which acts as proof of how the raw wound had healed in a way that wasn’t quite right.  No matter how much time passes, no matter how many people she’s been with, no matter how little she cares for Bradley now...nothing will change the fact that he hurt her.  Nothing will mend the jagged scar he created.  Sure, it may fade with time, but it’ll never disappear completely.  And as much as Y/N hates that Bradley still has an effect on her after all this time, she can’t change it.  She’s tried.

“That…” Harry’s cool hand wrapping around her own drags her back to the present, and she lifts her eyes to find the man staring at her with the most tender expression she’s ever seen his sculpted face wear. “That’s awful, Y/N.  I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“It’s—it’s fine.  Really.” Y/N half mumbles the words, distracted by the small circles Harry’s thumb is rubbing against the bone of her wrist.

Chestnut curls swaying, Harry adamantly shakes his head, the crease between his brows deepening with each passing moment. “Don’t.  It’s not fine.  You don’t have to make excuses for someone who hurt you.”

“I’m not making an excuse, I just—”

“Did he hurt you?” Harry’s jade irises fixate on her own with determination. “Yes or no?”

Once Y/N locks her eyes with Harry, she can’t look away.  His gaze nears hypnotic the more she looks. “Yes.  He hurt me.”

“Then he doesn’t deserve you making excuses for him.” The vampire squeezes her hand to emphasize his answer.  Although he’s not compelling her to understand him, Harry looks at her with an unfamiliar sincerity that he hopes makes the depth of his words resonate within her. “You may be fine now, or you may not be, but the situation itself wasn’t fine.  Don’t use your healing as an excuse for his behaviour.  You shouldn’t have had to heal yourself in the first place.”

The gravity of his words rings in Y/N’s ears, and the girl gapes at him for a moment, her mouth half open in shock, before the realization of what he’s saying hits her.  The way he’s staring at her…it’s nearly uncomfortable, the way he sees her.  She almost can’t bear it.  How does he know to say exactly what she needs to hear, even if she doesn’t know she needs to hear it?  Since the first night they slept together, when he reassured her that she could relax and let loose, Harry has been honest and reassuring.  And although Y/N has greatly appreciated that trait in the bedroom, when she’s been at her most vulnerable in a physical aspect…her eyes lock with Harry’s once more, finding them still as steadfast as ever.  This may be the most vulnerable she’s been emotionally in a long time.  And the idea of that, for once, doesn’t completely terrify her. 

The questions get more and more personal from there.  Although there’s a few lighthearted inquiries sprinkled in to ease the tension (“What was the name of your first pet?” “It was a cat named Mr. Snuffleupagus.  I named him after the Sesame Street character.  What’s your earliest childhood memory?” “My sister nearly drowning me in a lake.  She thought I would float.”), the majority of questions asked are things that neither person ever thought they would admit to someone else.  

Those questions range from vaguely prying (“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” “Seventeen.  It was with—” “Bradley and his beginner penis, right.” “Alright, smart ass, who did you lose yours to?” “My first girlfriend.”) to diving deep into memories, stories, and opinions that neither have so much as breathed to themselves in the dark of the night, let alone someone else.

Despite the plan having been to leave after brunch, the pair find themselves engrossed in their conversation, drinking mimosa after mimosa as the late morning bleeds into early afternoon, and they continue to discover each other. 

As Y/N takes a sip of her fourth beverage, Harry regards her with curious eyes, which are focused on picking apart every moment of her body to dissect and devour in his head when he’s alone that night. “So you said pretty much everyone from your hometown marries their high school sweetheart.” He asks slowly, rubbing a jeweled finger over his ice-swollen lips. “But you didn’t, obviously.”

“No, I did not.” Y/N says in agreement, a tipsy snort sounding from the back of her throat as she raises her fluted glass in a toast. “Thank fuck, honestly.  Could you imagine me as a wife right now?  And a mother?  With children?”

Finger tapping against his lip, a cheeky grin tugs at the very corner of his mouth. “No, I couldn’t, frankly.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he answers. “But what I’d like to know is…do you believe in it?  Marriage, I mean?  Because you said your parents had rough patches, and you thought they mostly stayed together just to stay together, and you and Gherkin Pickle didn’t last—”

“I’m sorry, Gherkin Pickle—?”

“So what I want to know is…” With his thumb and knuckle still grazing his chin, Harry points his finger at the girl across the table. “Marriage.  Do you think there’s value in it?  Do you think someone can be monogamous for their entire life?  Do you want to get married someday?”

The alcohol is beginning to soak into Y/N’s brain, making her bolder with every thump of her heart in her chest.  She leans across the table to ghost her fingers over Harry’s knuckles, continuing to glide them over his cool skin until she reaches his statement rings. “Why?” She asks, a smirk twinkling its way onto her face. “Are you asking?”

“Not quite yet, no.” Harry can feel the alcohol beginning to buzz through his stagnant veins, and he’ll later blame his flirtatious response on the pleasant feeling. “Although you in that dress has me half considering it.”

“Only half considering it?” Y/N clicks her tongue in feigned disappointment, swirling the tip of her index finger over the opal ring that sits upon Harry’s pinkie. “That’s a bit disheartening.  I’ll have to up my game, huh?”

The sight of Y/N’s lithe finger tracing his mother’s ring sends a shock through Harry’s buzzing body.  He can’t quite tell if it’s the witty banter that she matches perfectly and with ease, the lighthearted smile that lifts her soft lips, the gentle pulse he can feel reverberating through her fingertip, or the cleavage that’s just barely slipping out of her dress as she leans over, but Harry can’t tear his eyes away from the mortal girl, not for one second.  He doesn’t want to miss a single moment of her like this.  How it’s all for him. 

“You know, I’m starting to regret my earlier proposal.” He murmurs quietly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he watches the mortal take a long sip of her mimosa. “How much begging would it take to convince you to follow me to the bathroom right now for a little fun?”

Despite the warmth pooling between her thighs at the offer, Y/N shakes her head. “Too much begging.” She replies, setting her glass back down on the table with a soft clink.  She can already tell there’s a good chance that she’ll go back on the agreement they made, but she wants to make him sweat first.  As much as it tortures her, she knows it tortures him more.  And he’s certainly done his fair share of torturing.  Now it’s her turn. “But speaking of proposals…”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t push the subject of bathroom quickies again. “Right.” He pauses with his glass half raised to his lips. “Marriage.  Thoughts?”

Harry’s attention is rapt as his eyes drift to the mortal’s lips, which pucker slightly as her lightly inebriated mind thinks through the question.  Not for the first time, he wishes he had the ability to take a look inside her head and see how her thoughts form before she voices them. 

“I think…” She fixes her fork against her plate with a clink, her voice light but thoughtful as she forms her response. “I do think there’s value in marriage, but not inherently.  It’s not valuable just because it exists; I think it becomes valuable based on the work you put into it.  My parents, for example…” Her finger begins to circle Harry’s icy knuckle absentmindedly. “My parents didn’t put much work in, so I don’t think their marriage has that much value in comparison to what it could have if they tried.  But if two people put effort in, and strive to be the best partner they can be…I think there’s tremendous value in that.”

Harry responds with a low hum in the back of his throat. “That stands to reason.” He wishes he could take her hand in his own, but the sensation of her warm fingers tracing his skin is too wonderful to pull away. “What about monogamy?  Do you think it’s realistic?”

“I suppose my answer is the same.” Y/N shrugs lightly as her soft skin catches on the corner of Harry’s H ring. “It’s different for everyone, but I do think it can be realistic.  What’s not realistic is the idea that it’s easy.  People change over time, right?  Sometimes someone can change into someone completely different.  You have to expect that, and be flexible with it.”

For the first time since the beginning of their date, an uncomfortably negative feeling buzzes in the pit of Harry’s belly.  Of course Y/N thinks people change—she’s mortal.  But Harry, on the other hand… Harry is forever frozen at twenty-six.  Harry is static.  Harry is stagnant.  However Y/N will change, Harry cannot match it.  Ever. 

That realization helps him identify the uncomfortable feeling as his eyes fall on the girl’s finger tracing his rings.  It’s longing, he discovers, unable to look away from the way her fingernail scratches his immortal skin without so much as leaving a pinkening mark.  Harry will never change again, while Y/N has a whole life of it ahead of her.  Millions of possibilities that lead to millions of more possibilities, always shifting, never staying the same from one moment to the next. 

“As for your last question…” Y/N’s familiar cadence pulls Harry from his thoughts. “I’m not sure.  I wouldn’t completely rule out marriage, but it’s not an active goal of mine.  It all depends on finding someone I think I could grow with and still love at the end of every day.  And despite how simple that sounds,” The short laugh that leaves her mouth is wistful, but hides a tinge of bitterness. “It’s surprisingly hard to find.”

“It is, yeah.” Harry agrees, finishing the remnants of his mimosa with one fell swoop. “Incredibly hard.” His gaze sweeps to Y/N’s glass, which has about one more gulp of liquid left in it.  With the hand not within her grasp, he reaches across the table, picking up the glass and lifting it to her lips. “May I, pet?”

He can hear the way her heartbeat stutters in her chest, and feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she nods slowly.  Harry places the glass between her lips, carefully tilting it back until the drink runs out of the crystal and into her awaiting mouth.  A small droplet streaks from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, and Harry is sure to catch it on his finger after setting the glass down. 

Y/N knows that Harry is doing his best to fluster her, and while it’s working, she knows that she can play the game just as well as he can.  Keeping her eyes on his like a challenge, she grasps the hand touching the corner of her mouth, guiding his finger beyond her lips with a firm grip.  The sweetness of the orange juice and champagne concoction swells across her tongue, but that’s nothing compared to the sweetness of watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. 

Pulling his finger from her mouth with a quiet pop, Y/N sets his hand back down on the table, squeezing it once before releasing both of his hands and resting her elbows on the table.  She steeples her fingers together, setting her chin on the makeshift rest as she regards Harry’s darkening eyes. 

“Thanks.” She murmurs, tilting her head to the side lazily as Harry shifts in his chair. “Didn’t realize I missed a drop.  That was a sharp catch, Holmes.”

Harry can’t help but flex his finger as his gaze drops to the digit, catching how a light sheen of saliva covers his skin.  Heat floods between his thighs, making him regret his choice of fashionable linen pants over standard jeans.  “Thank you, Watson.” He matches her banter, albeit with a slightly strained voice. “Shall we order another drink, now that we’ve both finished?”

The question hangs in the air between them like an invitation, open ended and carefully calculated.  Y/N leans forward again, unlocking one of her hands to run a finger over the dark ink staining Harry’s exposed forearm. “I think we should grab the check, actually.” She wets her lips with a swipe of her tongue as she feels Harry’s muscle tense under her touch. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.  Have you?”

All the moisture in Harry’s mouth disappears, his throat burning as the mortal girl’s scent envelops him with every move.  His eyes flicker to her neck, where the thumping of her heart is practically visible underneath her fragile skin.  With his inhuman eyes, he can just make out the ghost of a bruise he sucked into her neck a few nights before.  

Has he had enough to drink?  No.  He’ll never get enough.  But that’s not what Y/N means by the innocuous question. 

“I’ve had my fill, yeah.” Jerking his head in agreement, Harry motions towards the window, where he knows Paige has been analyzing every move between them.  Her displeasure at the close interactions between Harry and Y/N is nearly palpable as she makes her way back to their table, and Harry wonders if Y/N can also sense it, as she seems to be more perceptive than the average human.  When he turns his attention back to her, however, his brow creases in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching as Y/N shifts through her woven bag and extracts her wallet. 

“Grabbing my wallet?” Her expression is just as confused as his own when she replies. “To pay?”

“To—?  No.  Put that away.” Harry says sternly, using the same dominant tone he adopts in the bedroom (only half on purpose). “This is a date.  I’m paying.”

“This isn’t the 18th century, H.  We can split the bill.” Y/N begins to roll her eyes as she opens her wallet, reaching for the debit card stamped neatly with her name.

“I’m well aware it’s not the 18th century, love.” Lip twitching from the wry irony, Harry gently places his hand on her own and closes her wallet. “But it’s a date— our first one, at that— and I’d like to pay for you.  It’s just manners.” 

Although he can feel the grip on her wallet loosening, there’s still a degree of hesitancy apparent in Y/N’s eyes. “Harry—”

“And I don’t mean that in a chauvinistic way, and I don’t mean to imply that you’re incapable of paying.” He swipes his thumb over her knuckle once, letting his physical touch reinforce his words. “I asked you out, yeah?  So I think it’s only fair that I pay.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s pillowy lips as she worries them between her teeth, her resolve getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment.  It only takes three more beats of her heart for her to give a small nod, and Harry, satisfied that she’s agreed, reaches for his wallet to pay the bill.

Despite the temptation to short change Paige on the tip for her disregard for his date, Harry still leaves a sizable tip, saying goodbye to the server with a polite— and only polite— smile.  Once she has her back turned, however, Harry flashes his most genuine grin at Y/N as he scoots his chair away from the table to stand.

Y/N’s hands grip the sides of her chair to match Harry’s motion, but she freezes once she sees the man step towards her.  Within a moment, his jeweled hands are wrapped around the back of her chair, carefully pulling it out before offering her a hand to help her stand.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Y/N asks, nodding to their clasped hands as she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “Pulling out chairs, opening doors—”

Placing his hand on the small of her back once again, Harry scoffs. “It’s always been a thing,” He argues, guiding her to the patio door and through the restaurant. “You’ve just been dating pricks, apparently.”

Despite his answer, however, even Harry can’t deny that the urge to resurrect his Victorian etiquette is as strange as it is sudden.  And, truth be told, there is something deeply pleasing in the light flush of blood he can hear work its way over Y/N’s cheeks when he opens the door of the restaurant for her, opens the car door, takes her hand to help her in, and shuts the door carefully before making his way to the driver’s side.  

It’s easy to spend the short drive back to her building with his hand entwined with hers, their fingers woven together as Harry’s thumb moves over her knuckles.  Y/N’s skin, like usual, is so warm, almost as if she’s made from sunshine herself.  At this point, Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that; her blood could certainly pass for being made from stardust. 

It’s all too soon that Harry is pulling into a parking spot in front of Y/N’s building and turning the key in the ignition, his favourite car smoothly powering down in one fell swoop.  Once the sound of the engine dies down, his eyes refocus on the girl next to him. 

Y/N, in comparison, is just as focused on Harry as Harry is on her.  She knows that it’s time to let go of his hand, time to climb out of the car, time to return to her apartment alone.  Time to fall out of the fantasy that has been this afternoon.  Despite knowing all of this, however, she stays glued to the seat, her eyes locked with Harry’s emerald irises in a soft battle. 

Harry is well aware of the predicament he’s found himself in.  While he was the one to establish the no sex rule in an attempt to keep Y/N comfortable, it’s becoming harder and harder to stick to it with every passing moment.  If he was smart, he’d bid the girl goodbye here, allow her to walk herself into her building, thereby erasing any possibility of him charming her into allowing him inside her apartment.  Then, once he was safely back home, he could draw himself a hot bath, scent it with lavender epsom salts, close his eyes to picture the way Y/N looks with laughter in her eyes, the sun spilling across her cheeks, her dress’ neckline falling dangerously low, and tug himself to a tension-relieving climax. 

However, Harry has never been known for his intelligence. Not as much as he’s been known for his recklessness.

Before he can second guess his most likely terrible decisions, Harry is out of the car and opening Y/N’s door.  He’s helping her out.  He’s guiding her into her building, and climbing up the stairs of her fifth floor walk up with her hand locked in his.  And now he’s standing in front of her apartment door, with Y/N shyly looking at him as she bites her fucking lip, completely unaware of the rampage raging inside the vampire before her. 

And the most infuriating, frustrating thing about the entire situation is the way Y/N is looking at him, like she can barely hold his gaze, but can’t force herself to look away.  Harry can feel the waves of need and uncertainty radiating from her, hear the thumping of her heart in her chest.  The last time she looked at him like this, like she’s unsure of where they stand, was the first night they met.  Harry remembers how she fumbled with her keys, nervously invited him in, and then let him use her in a way that literally drove him to his most primal state.  He remembers the euphoria of sinking his teeth into her neck, tasting her ridiculously sweet blood for the first time as his orgasm rolled over him, wave after wave of intense pleasure blurring together as his eyes burned crimson, the lewd sounds of their bodies moving together, the desperate whines that echoed from her throat...

“Thank you for lunch.” Y/N’s sweet voice interrupts his walk down memory lane, and with good timing— five more seconds, and Harry would have been pushing her against her front door to rut her dress up and slip inside her. “And the drinks.  I had a really nice time.”

Clearing his throat, Harry pushes the indecent thoughts from his head as best he can.  He can take care of this later, he tells himself.  He just has to be a gentleman for a few more minutes, and then he can go home, and be as depraved as he needs to be. “I did, as well.” The vampire squeezes her hand in preparation of letting go of it. “A really lovely time, actually.  I’d like to do it again.”

The way Y/N’s eyes widen ever so slightly as her breath just barely hitches, both of which would be imperceivable to human senses, makes Harry bite back a laugh. “I would too.” A more reassured smile rolls over her face as she leads his hand to her waist, setting it just over her hip and squeezing his fingers around her love handles. 

Even after everything Harry has done to her, all the ways he’s seen her, felt her, made her feel— even after all that— his hand on her hip over her dress still sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t want you to go…” She confesses in a quiet voice, rubbing her thumb over his icy knuckles. “It feels strange, not having you come inside…”

“I know.” A sigh escapes Harry’s lips as he leans down, brushing his forehead over hers as he murmurs his response, his voice dangerously low. “But if I come inside, I know what I’ll do.  And I promised that I would behave myself today.”

“I don’t mind breaking promises.” Y/N wisps, closing her eyes as Harry’s breath, tinged with orange from the mimosa and mint from the candy the restaurant gave them with the bill, rolls over her in a delicious wave. 

Nudging his nose against her own, Harry shakes his head with the smallest of motions, his fingertips digging further into Y/N’s love handles. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over hers, barely even brushing before he pulls away again. “One of us needs to have some self control.”

Y/N wedges her free hand between their bodies, resting it over Harry’s chest with her fingers curled along the unbuttoned edge of his shirt. “If you insist.” Her fingernails dig just the slightest bit into Harry’s sturdy chest, savouring the way she feels his body tense beneath her. “If you want to be boring, then that’s fine.”

Harry laughs quietly at the small attempt to tease his ego, and although his instinct tells him to prove her wrong, he just nods his head. “Am I too boring to receive a goodbye kiss?” He brushes a loose hair back from her forehead before cradling her warm cheek, guiding his thumb over her cheekbone in a repeated action. “Haven’t kissed you in hours.  Feels wrong.”

Butterflies burst into flight in Y/N’s stomach at the innocent request coupled with the sweet explanation.  They’ve done everything in the wrong order, she thinks, as she allows Harry to smudge small pecks along her chin and cheeks.  The very first night they met, she allowed him to use her in any way he wanted, and he allowed her the same luxury.  They’ve spent the last month exploring each other’s bodies, getting to know every nook and cranny, every preference.  They’ve grown accustomed to how the other moves in their sleep, how they wake up in the morning, if they shower at sunrise or sunset.  And now, after all that, they’ve finally had what has probably been the best first date in the history of first dates, and this man, who has already coaxed countless orgasms from her shivering body, who has learned all of her likes and dislikes, is asking for a goodbye kiss like a nervous teenager walking his crush home from biology class.

How could she refuse him?

The answer is simple: she can’t.  In fact, she’s not sure she could refuse Harry anything he asked of her.  And maybe that would be worrisome— it probably should be worrisome— if the idea of giving Harry whatever he wanted didn’t bring a wave of warmth to Y/N’s belly that travels from her center to the very tips of her fingers.

“No,” She wraps the loose fabric of his shirt around her fingers, clutching him as close as she possibly can. “You’re not too boring, H.  You’re never boring.” Y/N sucks in a breath as she feels Harry’s teeth graze over her jaw, marking her ever so slightly as her lover makes his way back to her lips fervently. 

He smudges a kiss at the corner of her lips, pulling a strained whimper from her as she waits for him to kiss her properly. 

“Ask me.” He whispers, grazing his fingers over her cheekbone again and again. “Ask me to kiss you.  I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

The request is so innocent compared to everything else Harry has ever asked her to do, and his voice lacks the dominant command it usually carries over her, but Y/N feels just as weak as she would if he ordered her to get on her knees. “Harry…” Her voice floats through the miniscule space between them, so quiet that it’s barely audible over their laboured breathing, but Harry still thinks it sounds like a song. “Please kiss me.  Kiss me goodbye.”

A groan reverberates in the back of Harry’s throat, and the tiny molecule of composure that he has left in him slips away as he glides his lips over her own silky pair, his fingers threading into her hair on instinct.  Although he does his best to restrain himself, it becomes more difficult with every passing moment, and becomes damn near impossible when he hears the way Y/N whines at the sensation of their lips brushing together with more and more force.

Despite his best efforts, Harry soon finds his hands moving of their own accord as his palm travels from Y/N’s hip towards her ass, ruffling her dress as he grips her and thrusts a leg between her own.  He backs the mortal up into her door, her back hitting the wood with a delicate thud, and the groan she releases worries him for a split second before he feels her grind against his thigh situated between her legs.

Harry knows that the pretense of this just being a goodbye kiss went out the window the moment he touched her, and although she’s responding in kind, he has to live up to his word.  He has to.  He swore that he wouldn’t fuck her today, and as much as he wants to, as much as it seems that she wants to— and if the red hot heat burning his thigh is any hint, she very much wants to— he has to regain some self control.  Despite all his shortcomings, or how his thirst for her blood outweighs any other desire he has for her, he has to remain a gentleman.  Even if it means peeling himself away from the beautiful girl who is scratching at his chest, moaning into his mouth, grinding against his thigh, and speaking between ragged gasps—

“Fuck the promise.” She groans into his ear, her teeth grazing over his lobe with more pressure than Harry thought her capable. “Please, H.  I know what we said, but I need you.” 

Harry curses under his breath at the sensation, his eyes rolling back into his head for a split second, and he knows that if he doesn’t distance himself, he’ll succumb to her begging. “I can’t, darling.  I can’t.” He chokes out the words between pants, bumping his forehead against Y/N’s as he struggles to catch a breath that he’s forgotten he doesn’t need.  It’s funny, he manages to think, how he teased Y/N for not keeping her hands off him earlier, when he’s the one who can’t bear to be away from her touch now. “I want to— Christ, I want to— but I’m trying to behave.”

“Behaving is stupid.” Y/N mutters, smudging her lips across Harry’s stubbled jaw and down his neck, leaving small marks in her wake. “What happened to giving into desires?”

Good fucking question.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, a choked laugh escaping his heaving chest. “That was when we were just fucking.  Now we’re…”

Y/N regards the man with hooded eyes, a flutter of hope shining through the desire that’s settled in her chest.  What exactly are they?  They’re not dating, she knows that for certain.  But they’re not exactly just fuck buddies anymore. “We’re what?” She prompts after Harry trails off. 

“We’re…” Harry struggles to form a coherent thought, too entranced by the feeling of Y/N in his arms to think straight.  Sucking in a deep breath, the fragrant scent of the girl’s arousal burning his throat, Harry forces himself to take the smallest step back from her, although his hands stay locked around her hip and her cheek. “We’re saying goodbye.”

A defeated sigh falls from Y/N’s swollen lips, but she nods gently at the man before her, brushing her thumb over his exposed collar bones with great care. “Alright.” She mumbles, disappointment laced through her voice. “Goodbye.”

The glum tone brings a small smile to Harry’s cherry lips. “It’s just for a little while, love.  Not forever.” Harry teases her as he swipes his thumb over her flushed cheek. “Couldn’t stay away from you that long.” 

The breathless flush turns into a pleased warmth as Y/N struggles to hide the smile threatening to break across her expression.  Taking the change in mood as a hint, Harry ducks his head, pressing his lips against hers with an earnest softness for just a moment before stepping back and releasing the mortal girl from his grasp.

“Goodbye.” He murmurs again, his belly aching at the thought of leaving Y/N alone for the rest of the day.  It really does feel unnatural, he’s surprised to find.  Has he really gotten that used to being around her?

It’s a strange process, leaving Harry at the door.  After she finally says goodbye again, shuts the door, locks it tightly, and slips on the chain, Y/N finds herself touching the wood, her palm pressed flat against the surface as if she can feel Harry on the other side.  It takes her a moment to walk away from it, the buzz of the mimosas and their first date streaming through her veins.

Checking her phone for the first time, Y/N is surprised to find that it’s nearly 4pm— had they really been in the restaurant for almost five hours?  No wonder the server had been giving her a dirty look; they’d spent so long just talking and sipping drinks, ordering no other food, and not giving up their table.  She’d probably be glaring too.

Admittedly, there is a slight rumble in Y/N’s stomach, as they ate over four hours ago, but she ignores it as she takes a seat on the couch to untie her pink vans, tossing them into the corner before slipping off her jean jacket.  She tosses that over the couch too, running her hands through her mussed hair.  She’s not quite sure what she’ll do with the rest of her day now that she’s alone.  She could indulge some reading, or answer some messages from relatives, or maybe even—

A pounding on the door disrupts her thoughts, jerking her eyes from the book on her coffee table to her front door.  With her brow furrowed in confusion, Y/N rises from the couch and walks to the door, gliding the chain free and turning the lock before swinging the door open.

Braced in the doorway with shining eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a heaving chest as if he’s run all the way back up to her apartment, is Harry.  He takes a moment to compose himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as she takes in her more relaxed appearance.

“I couldn’t go.” He confesses, answering the question on the tip of Y/N’s tongue before she even has the chance to speak it. “I made it down to my car, and then—”

Y/N grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him into her apartment, slamming the door behind them before reaching for Harry again.  His hands are already outstretched to receive her, having grown used to their intimacy routine, and she’s pleased when he automatically rests his palms on her lower back and her neck as she wedges her lips between his once again.

“I don’t want you to go.” Y/N gasps the words against his mouth, barely peeling herself back from him to utter the sentence. “I need you so fucking bad, H, please—”

With great difficulty, Harry attempts to think straight, but it gets harder when Y/N bucks her hips and— well, it gets harder. “I meant what I said, Y/N.  I did, I—I made a promise, and I have to—”

“What do I have to do?” Y/N demands, tangling her fingers in Harry’s chestnut curls and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I fucking need something, Harry, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Christ.  Harry’s had his suspicions, but now he’s convinced that this girl has some direct line to all his weaknesses, because she knows exactly how to stroke his ego like no one else has before.  She presses every one of his buttons every time.  She’s allowed him to handcuff her, take her in every position, manhandle her, slap her around, and she still begs him for more.  Is there anything that she hasn’t done better than anyone else?

And that’s when it hits him.  The perfect loophole.

Harry is so excited at the possibility of relief that he nearly whimpers, just barely managing to bite back the sound at the last second as he smooths his fingers over his lover’s wild hair. “What about when I’m not here, pet?” He goads her softly, a glint shining in the corner of his darkening eyes. “What do you do then?”

“I…” Although confusion is present in Y/N’s voice, she answers him promptly— she’s gotten used to obeying his sexual requests over the course of the month. “I call you.  And you...you tell me what to do, usually.”

“Tell you what?” Harry hungrily prompts her again, tugging on her hair with the lightest of touches.  Like before, he wants to hear her say it. “What do I tell you to do?”

“You tell me how to—how to touch myself.” The mortal girl stammers, shyness creeping into her tone despite having begged for Harry mere moments earlier. “And then I do.”

“You do.  You behave so well for me.” Keeping his voice as smooth and sensual as possible— which isn’t hard for him, if he’s honest— Harry twirls a lock of Y/N’s hair around his finger, wrapping it around the length as his fingertip brushes over her lip. “I tell you what to do, and you do it.  And you moan for me, and send me the prettiest pictures.” He presses harder against her lip, dragging her mouth open as a whimper escapes. “And I always think: what would it be like to see that in person?”

Although the effect of the mimosas has faded by now, Y/N’s head is swimming in a cloud of Harry’s cologne and her own lust, and she struggles to understand the double meaning in his words. “What—what do you mean?  You’ve seen me in bed—”

The innocent confusion in her voice tantalizes Harry in the best way. “When I’m touching you.  But that’s not what I want.” He murmurs, grinding his hips back into her own. “I know how to get around my promise.”

He watches as the realization dawns on Y/N’s face, her heart stuttering as warmth floods through her body. “Y-you mean—?  You want to see me…?”

“I want to see you touch yourself.” Harry finishes her thought as his eyes darken, and he licks his lips at the image of Y/N laid out on her bed, legs spread wide, showing off just for him.  Only for him. “Will you let me?”

And there it is.  That wave of warmth and desire spreads through Y/N’s tummy, begging her to say yes to any request that falls from Harry’s mouth.  The urge is so strong that she nearly begins to strip, her fingers edging to the hem of her dress, before she manages to form a clear thought of pause. “Are you sure you want to see me…?” She dances around the word for a second time. “Like, I—I don’t know if it’s very sexy, or—”

“Is that a fucking joke?” Harry laughs incredulously, his thumb swiping over the edge of Y/N’s jaw.  He could leave so many pretty marks… “Of course it’ll be sexy.  Christ, love, it’s fucking you.”

The statement that Harry makes is so sure, so confident, that it nearly sends Y/N reeling.  The human’s eyelids flutter as he begins to pepper kisses along her cheekbones and down her jaw, his tongue swiping over her sensitive skin every few moments. 

“Anything you do is sexy.” He whispers the words against her skin, his voice low and accent thick enough that it seems to fill the entire hallway. “Literally anything… How you lick your lips after taking a drink, how you get in and out of my car so delicately… It’s all so fucking erotic.” Y/N shivers when a breath of cool air hits the damp skin of her neck as Harry laughs lightly. “I’ve got a bloody hard-on nearly every moment of the day.”

Hearing the confession that tumbled from Harry’s cool lips, Y/N thinks, is the verbal equivalent of doing three shots of tequila and chasing with a vodka soda.  The words wash over her as easily as Harry’s cologne does whenever she gets close to him, and her fingers tug on his brunette locks with need. “Really?  Even today?”

“Are you kidding?  Especially today.  Look at what you’re wearing…” His icy fingers skim down her neck before tracing over the cleavage that the neckline of her yellow dress leaves exposed. “Every time you leaned over to take a bite of food, I nearly came in my trousers.”

Despite the desire curling itself around Y/N’s core, she can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “That would’ve been a sight.” She scratches her nails lightly against Harry’s scalp, the motion surprisingly tender for their topic of conversation. “Would’ve had to ask Paige for another napkin.”

“It would’ve been properly humiliating, yeah.” Harry agrees easily, unconcerned with the thought as his lips follow the path led by his fingers. “But it would’ve been worth it.”

While the pair’s position is rather incriminating— Y/N’s hands in Harry’s hair, Harry clutching her as close as possible, his lips travelling over any exposed skin he can find— there’s an air of careful consideration floating around them.  As much as Harry wants to see the girl in his arms pleasure herself, he wants it to be her decision.  Anything less wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying. 

“Y’don’t have to do it just for me, Y/N.” The vampire takes the slightest step back to give her some room to breathe without his close proximity to cloud her judgement. “But if it’s my reaction you’re worried about…” Harry untangles one of her hands from his hair, ghosting it down his body before cautiously laying it over his white linen trousers, where his bulge is growing more prominent by the second. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

A desperate whine nearly escapes Y/N’s mouth, but she manages to bite it back at the last moment.  She wants him.  As nervous as she is to have him watch her touch herself, she’s more turned on than anything.  When she sends Harry explicit texts and photos that are most certainly not safe for work, part of the thrill is the reaction she gets from him.  A dirty photo is only as sexy as the other person’s reception of it.  To see Harry’s reactions in person… it would be a lie to say she’s not into the idea. 

But it would also be a lie to say that she doesn’t want something in return. 

“Alright.  You can watch me.” Y/N relents with a sigh, and she takes a moment to enjoy the triumphant look in Harry’s eyes before tacking on her addendum. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” 

Y/N squeezes her hand over his bulge, making the slightest stroking motion upwards towards his belly as a low groan rolls from Harry’s mouth. “I get to watch you touch yourself, too.”

There’s not even a moment of hesitation. “Done.” Harry seals his lips over hers firmly the moment the word exits his mouth, grinding against her hand as he backs her into the wall.  Her back hits the panel with a quiet thud, but Y/N is too busy twisting her fingers around the button of Harry’s pants to notice. 

“Ah ah ah.” Harry tuts as his jeweled hand grabs her wrist, pulling it away from his hardening cock while making sure not to use too much strength on her fragile joint. “You don’t get to do that, pet.  You’ll only be undressing yourself tonight.  It’s only fair.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about fair.” Y/N huffs her reply, but doesn’t pull her wrist from her lover’s grip. “You’re the one who made the stupid rule in the first place!”

Clicking his tongue, Harry takes another step back from the young woman while keeping his other hand floating over her hip. “And you agreed.” He reminds her as the corner of his lip tugs up. “So I think it’s best you behave, don’t you?”

Although the statement turns her legs to jelly, Y/N doesn’t let it show, and instead steels her resolve as best she can. “I’m behaving.” She mutters, crossing her free hand underneath the arm in Harry’s grip. 

“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Harry swipes his thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist, feeling her pulse stutter beneath his touch.  The vampire swallows the venom that spills into his mouth at the thumping rhythm.  He’ll have time for that later. 

Chest heaving, Y/N wets her dry lips as best she can despite the lack of moisture in her mouth. “So where are we…?” She trails off as she glances down the hallway of her apartment. “The living room is probably best, position wise…one of us can be on the couch, and the other on a chair.”

“That’s true…” Harry nods his head, but a frown settles over his pillowy lips. “But it’s not very comfortable for you.  You usually lie down when you get off, don’t you?” Like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it’s spoken with a tone of efficiency and casual observance, simply to find the best approach for any situation. 

And, like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it sends a shock of warmth into her panties. 

“I-I do, yeah.” Y/N stutters her response, clearing her throat before adding onto the short statement. “I’m usually in bed.”

Harry nods expectantly, like her reply is just a confirmation for him. “We’ll go to your bedroom, then.” He says decisively, his grip on her wrist loosening. “You can lie down, get comfortable.  I’ll stand.”

Leading the mortal to her bedroom, Harry slides open the door, guiding her inside before shutting it with a firm click.  When he turns back around to look at her, she’s looking at him expectantly, her fingers twisting around each other as she stares at him with wide eyes.  She trusts him, he realizes, not for the first time.  She really does trust him. 

Although the anticipation is written clearly across her pretty features, Harry knows she needs a small prompt to begin. “How are you usually dressed when you do this alone?” He asks quietly, his own fingers working over the buttons on his shirt smoothly. “Completely bare?  Fully clothed?  Underwear only?” One of his dimples makes an appearance as he smiles with half his mouth. “Wearing only that sweater of mine that you’ve pretty much stolen?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that sweater’s too warm.” Y/N replies with an eye roll, tugging off the jean jacket covering her smooth shoulders. “I, um…it depends.  If it’s just quick, then usually I’m clothed, but if I’m taking my time, then I’ll just, um, I’ll be in my underwear.  Sometimes just my bra.”

Harry’s fingers finish with his last button, and he leaves his open shirt draped over his tall frame. “We’ll be taking our time, angel.  So just get as comfortable as you usually would.”

Y/N nods her head in a jerking manner, sucking in a deep breath through her parted lips in an attempt to calm the heave that threatens her chest.  The erotic tension in the air could be cut with a knife as she tosses her jacket to the side and works her fingers over the zipper of her dress, which catches for a moment and puts up a struggle as she fights to undo it.  Once she wins the battle, she tugs the yellow dress down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out of it and tossing it to the side.  Her bra and panties aren’t matching, with the former being a delicate baby pink lace, while the latter are lavender cotton, but she doesn’t let herself focus on that detail.  Instead, her fingers hover for a moment at the waist of her panties, hooking in the elastic before she changes her mind at the last minute and decides to keep them on.  For now, at least. 

Harry watches the entire ritual with starved eyes.  He wants Y/N to start before he does, so she can get into a natural rhythm herself, but he can’t resist palming himself over his trousers like she did a moment ago, despite his icy touch not being nearly as satisfying as hers. 

Y/N, however, has different plans, regarding him with heavy lashes as she takes a step back towards her bed. “Your turn.” She murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed and curling her fingers around her ruffled comforter. 

“All in due time.” Harry assures her with a wry smile, ghosting his fingers along his inked abdomen. “Get comfortable, baby.  Pretend I’m not here.”

“Like that’s possible.” The mortal girl mutters under her breath, unaware that Harry’s supernatural hearing can pick it up as if she were shouting in his ear.  Nevertheless, she does as he says, scooting back on the bed until her shoulders reach her pillows.  She lays back on the soft cushions, shifting around until the padding feels comfortable beneath her back.  She lays there for a moment, her arms folded neatly over her bare stomach as she licks her lips expectantly. “Now?”

“Now…” Harry flicks open the button of his trousers. “Do whatever you like to do.  Whatever feels good.”

It takes Y/N another moment to work up the courage to actually do something.  The trick, she realizes, is closing her eyes.  If she so much as catches a glimpse of Harry watching her, her entire body tenses, and she can’t even manage to move a finger over her stomach.  With her eyes closed, however, she can imagine that Harry isn’t there, and she’s just in her room, with his only influence being in her mind as she touches herself.  It may not make much sense, when she could just use the real image of him to fuel her thoughts, but Harry’s presence is so dominating that pretending he’s not there seems to be the only solution.

And so, when her eyes are shut tightly enough that she can’t see the man, but loose enough that she’s comfortable, Y/N begins to touch herself lightly, her fingers tracing over the dips of her stomach with the smallest amount of contact she can manage.

Her touch moves over her skin like a flutter, its only purpose to warm herself up and ease herself into being watched, and while the small brushes against her own skin would normally have no effect on her, in this moment, with Harry standing by her bed, the action feels more erotic than she ever would’ve thought possible.  She slowly glides her hands up to the pink lace of her bra, tracing her finger along the edge of the cup before sliding over the lace to the hardening peaks of her nipples.  She’s more sensitive than she thought, and Y/N’s breath hitches for a moment as she brushes against one nub, tweaking it once more with her finger before repeating the motion on her other breast.  When a quiet but harsh exhale sounds from Harry’s direction, the human girl amuses the idea of removing her bra to give more visual stimulus, but quickly decides against it.  Harry said he wanted to see what she does to herself, she thinks, keeping her eyes closed as she massages her breasts once more.  He didn’t ask her to perform a strip tease for him.

And, in truth, a strip tease is the farthest thing that Harry wants in this moment.  Any girl can take off her clothes and touch herself to put on a show for a voyeur.  If Harry really wanted to watch that, he could easily find countless porn videos depicting the real thing.  But the sight of Y/N gliding her fingers over the soft lace of her bra, tracing unseen roadmaps over the mountains and valleys of her chest and abdomen, parting her lips just slightly as she twists her nipple once more… that’s what Harry wants.  Despite the countless erotic activities Harry has engaged with Y/N, this may be the most intimate, even without touching her.  Maybe that’s why, he muses, only half in the thought as he slowly tugs down the zipper on his trousers, doing his best to make no noise so as not to startle the girl in front of him.  She’s letting him see what she does to herself when no one is around, when she just wants to make herself feel good.  It’s a selfish act, in the best way.  And it’s making Harry’s cock throb like never before.

Y/N’s hands have reached the edge of her panties now, and with her legs spread wide open, Harry can see the dampened spot staining the lavender cotton a shade darker.  Her scent wafts over him as she moves, slipping her hand beneath the fabric, and Harry’s own eyelids flutter as she fills every one of his senses.  There’s a small part of his more instinctual mind cursing him for thinking of this— for establishing an activity where he can see her, smell her, but not touch her.  However, there’s a larger part of his mind thanking him for this.  For the opportunity to bask in Y/N’s own sensuality and pleasure.

The dampness that greets Y/N’s fingers as she slides into her panties isn’t a surprise, but still provides relief.  For a brief moment, the girl had been worried that she’d be too nervous about the situation to let herself enjoy it, but as she teasingly circles her index finger around her clit, she knows that enjoying it won’t be a problem.  Although she misses Harry’s cool touch, the feeling of his rings sliding over her clammy skin, and although it may seem untrue when Harry is in bed with her, no one knows Y/N’s body like she does.  No one can instantly know what feels good and what doesn’t, what needs to be touched with more force, what needs to be gently caressed with a feather light pressure.  Y/N alone is the keeper of those secrets, and although she’s begun to whisper those unspoken tokens to Harry in the dead of the night as he lays between her thighs, she alone knows the real truths.

She continues to circle her clit for a few moments, gradually applying more and more pressure as her free hand clutches her bare thigh, her fingertips digging into her squishy flesh.  It doesn’t take long, however, for Y/N to need more, and she allows her fingers to run over her entrance a few times before dipping her index finger into her hot core. 

While the sound that leaves her mouth is quiet and could potentially go unnoticed, it’s the loud groan from Harry that snaps the human’s eyes open, and the sight in front of her that stops her movements in their tracks.  With her index finger still half inside her, and her grip on her thigh tightening, Y/N gapes at him unabashedly, because Harry looks like a fucking god. 

Her eyes sweep over him methodically, committing every inch of his appearance to memory so as not to ever forget what he looks like when pleasuring himself.  His chestnut curls are tinged with sweat, just beginning to plaster to his damp forehead and neck.  His jade eyes are darkening by the second, while his strawberry lips are parted and dry, despite him swiping his tongue over them every minute or so.  His toned chest is bare, displaying his dark ink for Y/N’s viewing, heaving with every movement of his tattooed arm.  And lower… Y/N moans again as she clutches her leg tighter, nearly enough to bruise.  Harry hasn’t completely removed his pants, but he’s pushed them down low enough that he’s freed his cock, which stands tall and proud and angrily red at the tip that pokes through the tight fist he has wrapped around the length.  Despite the tension in his body, however, Harry flicks his wrist lazily, teasing himself as much as Y/N did earlier, and she wonders if he does it for the same reason she did.  To give their lover something to look at. 

With her eyes locked with Harry’s, Y/N pushed her middle finger inside herself, whimpering at how the extra digit stretches her out.  She curves her fingers as they move in and out of her at a leisurely pace, focused more on reaching deeper than reaching a quick speed.  While her hand busies itself inside her panties, she slides the other from her thigh back up to her breast, gripping and massaging it as her lashes flicker. 

“Look at you.” Harry utters with a groan, breaking the silence between them as he thumbs over the leaking head of his cock. “Christ, you look so fucking filthy.” His eyes shift from hers for just a moment, glueing themselves to the shadows of motion he can see beneath her underwear. “Does that feel good, angel?”

A high pitched whine falls from Y/N’s mouth as she presses the pads of her fingers against the spongy spot inside her, setting off a wave of bliss inside her belly. “Yeah.  Feels—feels really good, Harry.” His name leaves her lips in a breathy mewl as she tweaks her nipple over her bra, throwing her head back against her pillow. 

The newly exposed skin of her neck beckons Harry.  It’s completely covered with a thin veil of sweat, with the heat radiating from her throbbing pulse seemingly reaching towards him at the end of the bed.  He takes a half step forward without realizing it, only catching his action when his knees bump the edge of the mattress. “Fuck—” He closes his reddening eyes to collect himself as his hand quickens its pace around his prick, only opening them again when he’s sure he’s under control. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have a bit of an idea.” She mutters in reply, stroking small circles over her clit with her thumb. “It’s not like you can hide it.”

“But you’re hiding.” The vampire replies in a strained voice, tightening his fist around his cock as he nods to the girl’s covered core. “Take those off for me, pet.  Please.”

Y/N withdraws her fingers from her dripping center, her skin shining in the light of her bedroom as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the panties. “Wait—” she says suddenly, pausing her obedient motion. “Wait, I—”

The moment his foggy mind registers the word, Harry’s palm stills over his length, and although he doesn’t let go completely, he forces his body to calm down as he appraises the human. “What?” He questions, concern laced into his thick accent. “What’s wrong?”

Sitting up on her elbows, Y/N raises her head from her pillow as she scoots closer to her bedroom wall, stopping once her heated skin grazes the tapestry. “I want you next to me.” Her eyes are pleading as the words fall from her mouth, quiet and desperate. “I promise I’ll stick to the rule— I won’t touch you. I just want you to be comfortable, too, and… and I like it when you’re close.  Please?”

The idea of refusing her doesn’t even enter Harry’s mind.  Within seconds, faster than a mortal ever would, Harry has stripped off his trousers, leaving himself in just his dark blue boxers that are still half rugged down.  He crawls onto the bed quickly, only letting his knee brush against Y/N’s leg before situating himself six inches away from her.  Even with the distance between them, he can still feel an electric energy radiating off of her as her fragrance becomes thicker and all encompassing, making his head swim in the intoxicating honey and lavender perfume. 

“M’here.” Harry murmurs the assurance softly, his fingers aching to reach out and touch her.  Surely that’s not against the rules?  After all, caressing someone’s cheek, and only for a moment, isn’t necessarily sexual.  With that rationalization in his mind, his jeweled fingers brush against the young woman’s flushed cheek, grazing upwards to push a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Y/N whispers back to him, her hands now resting on her tummy as she stares longingly at the figure next to her in bed.  She wonders if the comforting touch is allowed, but decides not to question it.  Questioning it may make it stop, and that’s the last thing she wants.  Instead, Y/N simply places her hand over Harry’s, interlocking their fingers together and bringing his hand to her mouth to smudge a soft kiss over the back of his icy knuckles. 

Harry can feel the pulsing of her heart through her lips, and it takes all of his inhuman strength to pull his hand from hers as carefully as he can. “I think you made me a deal, didn’t you?” He asks, disguising the want in his voice behind a teasing tone. “You said that if I got up here next to you, you’d…” Harry clicks his tongue as he nods at her cotton panties. “Hm?”

Despite the small laugh that escapes her, Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’ve got a one track mind, I swear.” She hooks her fingers into the edge of her panties, lifting her bum off the bed to tug them down her legs and toss to the side. “Happy?”

Harry licks his lips as he watches the girl’s hands drift back to her bare thighs, gliding over the silky skin with small strokes. “Very much so, yeah.” He replies, pushing his own hair back from his face before trailing his fingers back down his stomach.  He wraps his right hand back around his leaking cock, stroking it once as he glances at Y/N again. “Keep going, dove.  Don’t stop on my account.”

It’s like they’re back at the beginning,Y/N thinks, as she dips her index and middle fingers back into her wetness before she circles them around her clit.  With Harry next to her, his presence so very there, Y/N has to close her eyes again to compel herself to relax.  It takes a few moments of massaging her clit and focusing on keeping her breathing steady before she can open her eyes again and allow her gaze to slide back onto Harry. 

The vampire, as expected, looks like an erotic renaissance painting.  His hand is moving faster over his cock now, which is bubbling precum with every few strokes.  His hips buck into his hand every so often, searching for more and more friction as he chases his high.  Like herself, Harry has his eyes closed for much of his movements, but when he does open them, they’re pinned to her form and how she touches herself, like she’s his own personal show.  And, in a way, she is.  And she likes that.

It’s not long before Y/N needs more stimulation, and she thrusts her two fingers back inside herself as her other hand begins to rub over her clit.  The dual sensation sends a hoarse moan falling from her lips, her tummy contracting with the wave of ecstasy that she knows is getting closer, but it’s the feeling of Harry’s lips on her temple that has her breath stuttering. 

His slightly chapped lips move over her skin in slow and sensual movements, opening and closing as he speaks against her. “That’s it, darling.  You’re so close, I can tell.” He sucks in a long breath while bucking his hips into his fist, a whining moan echoing from his throat and into her ear. “Fuck, you’ve got me wrecked…”

Curling her fingers inside, Y/N prods against her G-spot with fervent desire, leaning her head closer and closer to Harry’s mouth as she does so. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, I—” Her words cut off with a broken whine as her spongy walls clench around her fingers. 

“Wish I could touch you.” Harry mutters the dirty confession in her ear, his lips still meeting every inch of skin they can find. “Wish I could make my pretty girl cum…” His brow furrows at the whimper that escapes Y/N at those words. “But at least I know you can—Christ—” He swipes his thumb over his tip again as his other hand moves to his balls, massaging over them with a gentle touch. “—can take care of yourself when I’m not here.”

When Harry’s lips find her neck, suckling at the sensitive spot where it meets her jaw, Y/N moans again, louder than before as she bucks her hips into her hand. “Fuck, Harry—” The way she sobs his name is music to his ears. “Can—can I cum?  Please?” The question rolls off her tongue without prompt, sounding as natural as breathing to the girl. Harry’s not even sure she registers that she’s asked, but the question for permission goes straight to his throbbing cock. 

“Yeah, baby. Cum for me.” He drags his teeth over her fragile skin, aching to bite down but restraining himself from giving in.  Instead, he redirects his reaction to his hand, speeding up his strokes until he feels his balls tighten. “Cum for Daddy.” The way he feels her heart stutter at his words feeds his ego like nothing else, and he brings one hand up from his abdomen to rest on her throat, stretching his fingers to grip her chin and direct her face towards his. “Show Daddy how good you’re making yourself feel.” He demands, his lips ghosting over her own as they both work themselves towards the edge.  His voice sounds less himself and more like a growl with every passing moment. “Cum.”

It’s the final harsh demand that pushes Y/N to thrust her fingers into herself faster, matching her motions over her clit to the new speed.  It only takes a few more moments for the tight ball of pleasure inside her belly to burst, the waves of her orgasm washing over her repeatedly as her walls pulse around her fingers. “Daddy—” The name falls from her mouth and into Harry’s freely.  Her only thoughts are of him as her climax consumes her; only his emerald eyes and cherry lips, only his brunette curls and inked skin, only his calloused hands and thick cock.  He’s all she can think about.  Has there ever been anyone else? “Please, Daddy…”

Harry watches with hungry eyes as the human’s body spasms through her release, the movements of her hands shuddering as the pleasure becomes too great to move. “That’s it, sweetheart.  Good girl.” He grunts the praise through clenched teeth as his own orgasm nears, his hand twisting around his cock more and more. “Prettiest little slut in the world, y’know that?”

Y/N releases a whine of acknowledgement, her chest heaving as she comes down from her high and withdraws her fingers from her core.  Resting her hands on her clenching belly, she turns her heavy lidded gaze towards Harry, watching him eagerly as he works himself. “Your turn.” She murmurs, her lips finding the edge of his sharp jaw and giving it a teasing bit. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?  All over your stomach?”

“If—fuck—if that’s where you want it, baby.” Harry groans loudly as his stomach clenches, the butterfly flexing beneath his strained movements. “You want to watch me cum?  Hm?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums the agreement against his skin, clasping her hands together to stop herself from reaching for Harry’s cock. “You’re usually inside me when you cum, so I’ve never seen it.  I want to see it.”

“God, I—” Harry reaches over with his free hand and grasps Y/N’s warm palm, dragging it up to his hair and tangling her fingers in his dark locks.  It’s a poor substitute for the craving he has to feel her touch over his cock, but the sensation of her tugging on his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp manages to provide the contact relief he desires. “Fuck, right there—” Harry’s abdomen contracts once more as he works himself over the edge and begins to shoot thick ropes of cum all over his tattooed tummy. 

Y/N continues to work her lips over his jaw, whispering anything and everything into his ear to continue to stimulate him through his orgasm. “Looks so pretty, H.” She utters once his cock has finally stopped spurting and he releases it from his grip. “You’re so pretty…”

A breathless laugh leaves Harry’s mouth as he shifts in the bed, wiping his damp hand against his indigo boxers before pulling them back over his shaking hips and exposed cock. “You’re one to talk.” He murmurs, twisting his head to the side to press a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead. “You don’t happen to have a wash cloth handy, do you?”

“I have tissues in my bedside table.” Y/N points to the object in question, and Harry reaches over and tugs open the drawer to retrieve the box of Kleenex.  Pulling a few squares from the box, he makes quick work of the cleanup, doing just enough to save him from the trouble of a sticky stomach. 

“I could’ve done that, you know.  Cleaned you up.” Y/N watches as the vampire stands to dispose of the used tissues, and reaches for her discarded panties to tug them back over her still shaky legs. “You know I like it.”

“I know, but if you did, then I would’ve broken the no sex rule right then and there.” Harry chuckles lightly as he climbs back onto the bed, wanting to reclaim his close proximity to Y/N as soon as possible. “And we’d already come so far.” 

When he opens his arms, Y/N doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his cool chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true.”

Harry lets his jeweled fingers trace down her back, drawing random shapes on the damp skin as her breathing begins to even out. “Did you like it?” He asks curiously, a seed of worry planted within the words. “Having someone watch you?”

“I liked having you watch me.” Y/N clarifies her answer as if it were the most natural and easily explainable thing in the world. “Did you like watching?”

Harry giggles again, almost incredulous as he nods his head at the damp spot on his boxers, a symptom of the copious amounts of precum that had leaked from him. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, Watson.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself has to ask.” 

“Asking questions is never a bad thing, Holmes.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself doesn’t know that.” The girl counters, delighting in the small laugh that shakes Harry’s shoulders.  A laugh falls from her lips as well, followed quickly by a yawn that she unsuccessfully tries to stifle. 

“Tired?” Harry murmurs, his fingers still keeping a steady pace against her back. “It’s only the late afternoon— not exactly late enough for bedtime, is it?”

Y/N sighs into his musky skin, relaxing completely against Harry’s body. “Not exactly, no.  But I think a little post-orgasm nap may be in order.” She raises her head from the crook of Harry’s neck, looking at him with soft eyes. “Will you stay?”

If Harry’s heart could beat, the tender question would make his rhythm irregular, and the knowledge of that fact dries out the venom that had been flowing freely through Harry’s mouth. “Wow.” He tries to disguise the reaction with a laugh. “Our first date, and you’re already asking me to sleep over?  What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Shut up.” The mortal nudges her forehead against his shoulder in a playful manner. “I’m serious.  Will you?  I sleep a lot better when you’re here.” 

The confession falls from her lips as easily as a sigh, but her words lock Harry’s chest in a tight chain, restricting his every breath.  And yet… the pressure is comforting, like a hug from someone you haven’t seen in years and you’ve sorely missed. 

“Alright, yeah.” He whispers gently, caressing Y/N’s mussed hair without tugging on any tangles. “I’ll stay.  We can order some dinner later, if you want.”

Y/N’s voice is already far away when she replies. “That sounds nice.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering closed as her full weight falls against Harry.  Within a few minutes, her breathing has leveled completely in time with her steady heart beat, which thunders against Harry’s own silent chest. 

The vampire sighs as he shifts on the bed, keeping Y/N locked in place against his body as he does so.  How did he end up here, in her bed, staring at that fucking tapestry again?  How did he end up agreeing to stay over, to grab dinner with her after she sleeps?  How does he know that, if she asks again, he’ll stay over tonight as well, even if it means lying still in bed and counting her heart beats until the sun rises through her curtains? 

And why does that sound so appealing?

Carefully, so as not to wake her, Harry shifts Y/N onto her own pillow, removing her from his chest with gentle movements.  Once he’s arranged her in a comfortable position and made sure that she’s still asleep, he cages himself over her, brushing her hair back from her face and inhaling deeply.  This is why, he thinks.  This is why he’s agreed to all of these dates, to holding her as she sleeps, to spending night after night in this tiny human apartment.  Her blood. 

Harry nudges his nose along the length of her throat, breathing in her fragrance as if it were the bouquet of a fine wine.  Her signature honey and lavender scent is as prominent as ever, only amplified by the orgasm-triggered endorphins that are still swimming through her veins.  Letting his lips drag over her fragile skin, Harry smudges kisses along the base of her throat with a light touch, searching for the most tender part that he’s come to adore.  When he reaches the mark just above her carotid artery, he presses a firmer kiss to the skin, admiring how the mortal’s breath floats from her lips in her sleep.  Still, he pauses for a moment to make sure that the sound is just that, a symptom of sleep, and once his suspicions are confirmed, Harry sinks his teeth into Y/N’s satin skin. 

As usual, the relief is instantaneous.  The warm blood that flows into his mouth quells the dry, burning ache in the back of his throat like nothing else, and Harry clutches the girl closer to him as he drinks more and more.  She’s just as sweet as she smells, and there’s that familiar depth of flavour to her that Harry can never quite place a finger on.  Perhaps he could if he spent more time analyzing it, but it’s never too long before he loses himself in her taste, and all rational thought goes out the window completely.  In the reflection of her mirror, Harry can see that his eyes are blood red and black-veined, and that he looks every bit the monster that he actually is.  If Y/N were to wake up right now and see him like this—pale skin, black veins, mouth stained red with her blood—she’d probably scream in horror, and do her best to shove the supernatural creature away.  She would be thoroughly repulsed, Harry is sure.  And, honestly, he couldn’t blame her.  He remembers the first time he saw the red of a vampire’s eyes, and the terror that had seized his entire body like an icy dip in the English Channel.  It would only be a natural response. 

Harry had come to terms with what he is a very long time ago, and though it took a lot of trial and error, a lot of sleepless nights doused with self-loathing and denial, and a plethora of blurry memories full of strangers’ veins bulging under soft skin and glassy eyes dulled by compulsion, he is in a place in his eternal life where his identity doesn’t phase his peace of mind anymore. He hadn’t become a monster willingly, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy having to do the unspeakable acts required for his survival— not consciously, anyways. 

From an instinct-driven perspective, he does enjoy the taste of blood, but it’s only because his supernatural carnal impulses demand it. Ethically, he isn’t proud of his affinity, but it’s not like he has any say in the matter. This isn’t his fault— he was forced to become what he is— and that moral claim is what has kept him tethered to his last few shreds of humanity for the past twenty decades. He’s not doing this to Y/N out of malicious intent, he’s doing it because he has no other choice. Therefore, he assures himself that the traces of guilt tightening his chest at the moment are completely misled and invalid. He hasn’t felt guilt much before— not for years— and he refuses to let it plague him once again. This is just the way things are. This is just the way things have to be. 

So why does he feel so fucking shitty right now?

Pushing the discomforting dwellings to the back of his mind, Harry continues to drink from Y/N, using his final remaining strains of functioning thought to monitor the human’s heart beat and breaths.  When his thirst is satiated enough, and before either one of those human traits begins to falter, Harry releases his bite on Y/N’s neck, licking over the wound with relish to temporarily seal it.  He turns to check his reflection in the mirror again, and finds that, yes, his suspicions are confirmed.  Although he’s managed to keep himself halfway presentable, there’s still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and his lips are stained a dark merlot colour from the sweet substance.  Harry swipes his tongue along his mouth, cleaning up any evidence of his late afternoon snack, before bringing his index finger to his mouth and pricking the tip on one of his fangs.  Then, while carefully holding the girl’s jaw open with his other hand, Harry slips his finger into her mouth. It’s practically a ritual by now. 

It takes only a few seconds for the bite mark on her neck to heal completely, leaving behind only a faint purple bruise in its place.  If Y/N were to see it tomorrow, she’d assume it was a half-healed hickey, and wouldn’t bat an eye at it.  She’d have no idea that the real cause of it was—

“Harry…” His name falls from her lips with a quiet stutter, her brow furrowing as if troubled by something the vampire can’t see. “Harry…”

“Y/N?” He whispers in reply, his limbs sealing over with ice as he freezes in place as if he were a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Everything alright, love?”

“Harry…” The human utters his name once more as a frown begins to tug at her pillowy lips, and it takes another moment of her shifting in the bed for Harry to realize that she’s still asleep, and the murmuring of his name is merely a symptom of her dreaming of him. 

Oh.  She’s dreaming of him. 

There’s a spark of something in his chest—happiness?  Excitement?— but it’s quickly extinguished by the realization that, if Y/N is dreaming of him, her body language is making it clear that the dream isn’t a pleasant one. 

Harry releases a frustrated sigh as he sinks back down into the sheets.  That’s to be expected, really.  After all, he did just feed from her; if she’s having a bad dream about him, it would only be logical. 

Still, the sight of her shifting in bed with a distressed look on her face pulls an equally distressed look from the immortal, and he only hesitates for a moment before carefully maneuvering the girl back onto his chest, positioning her so that he can easily rub her warm back with his cool hands.  

“You’re alright.” He murmurs softly into her ear, his voice low and melodic despite no one being around to hear it. “You’re fine, sweetheart. I’m here, hm? Go back to sleep.”

It takes a few more minutes of back rubbing, whispering, and a handful of strategically placed forehead kisses, but Y/N’s face finally relaxes as she falls back into a deep, untroubled slumber against Harry’s chest.  As her breathing evens out again, Harry breathes a gentle exhale of relief.  That was a close call.  The next time he feeds, he’ll have to make sure she’s truly unconscious, and has been so for a while.  Her bad dream, whatever it was, had probably been caused by him digging into her prematurely.  Next time, he’ll wait until the dead of night, when she’s deep in REM sleep.  She’ll be more comfortable then. 

Which reminds him— he has plans he has to cancel tonight, and the sleeping girl on his chest mixed with his phone being in his trouser pocket on the floor make a difficult combo to surpass. 

Despite the testing task, Harry manages to retrieve his phone from his discarded linen pants after a few minutes of awkward stretching, some light grunting, and a few curse words, but he manages to do it without waking Y/N up (she moves a couple of times, but a few soft words and tender hushing Harry’s behalf sends her right back into her dreams).  With one hand still wrapped around her back, Harry manages to type out a quick message to Niall. 

Won’t be able to make it tonight— something came up with Y/N.  Have fun at the bar. 

Harry references her by name, knowing that Mitch had probably already blabbed to their entire friend group about the date he’d had, and about how a human girl had recently become the target of his fascination. Juicy gossip is indisputably one of the aspects that keeps eternity from growing stale, and the vampire’s crew believe that to be so more than anyone. There’s not a single doubt in his mind they’d eaten every word up, and that he’d probably get drilled on it later.

He keeps his phone clutched in his hand, waiting for a (sure to be ridiculing) reply from Niall that comes a few minutes later. 

The girl from last time? Jesus, again?  Weren’t you meeting her for brunch?

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Harry’s lip. I did meet her for brunch.  And then I met her back at her apartment, and I’ll probably be meeting her again later after we get some dinner.  Don’t wait up.

After that text, Harry drops his phone on the bedside table, expecting Niall to just leave him on read in a fit of annoyance.  He’s surprised, however, to hear the quiet vibration of his phone a moment later, and picks it up to skim the message with pressing curiosity. 

You’re a fucking incubus, you know that?

The smirk on Harry’s swollen lips suddenly drops.  

While it’s not the first time he’s been called an incubus, it is the first time the label has ever bothered him. Why is that?  It’s not like it’s untrue; he frequently seduces various people, many of them being women, in order to sleep with them and drink their blood. That’s what an incubus does.  The label shouldn’t pester him.  In fact, it should boost his ego. 

But the title being applied to his relationship with Y/N… that gives him pause. It reminds him of a certain person— a certain disgrace, if he’s being pettily honest— who he had sworn never to think about again, out of respect for his sanity and emotional stability. It reminds him of how when he himself was mortal, he was under similar circumstances to what Y/N is under right now— he was a human blood bag to a vampire who took pleasure in his body. 

This is different, Harry tells himself.  I’m not going to ruin her life. She’s not going to end up like me. And we have an understanding, which I never got to have. This isn’t the same. I’m...I’m not the same.

In his steadfast opinion, the immortal isn’t an incubus when it comes to Y/N and it’s that simple, point blank. Saying he is… that sets the implication that he could be doing this with anyone, and that’s just not true.  Even though he’s keeping Y/N around as a convenient fuck with delicious blood, he wouldn’t go to this much trouble for anyone else; no one else is worth it.  No one else has her honey and lavender scent, or contagious laugh, or can match him so easily in banter without flinching or blinking an eye.  And though he’s too attached to his own pride— to the inherent coldness and indifference he’d worked so hard to build over the last two centuries— to let her know, he’ll admit that there’s no one else like her. There’s no one who’s company he enjoys quite the same. 

Harry doesn’t indulge Niall with a response, simply closing his phone and setting it back on the bedside table.  His friend can think what he wants, Harry decides, returning his attention to tracing figures on Y/N’s back.  Harry knows what this really is.  He knows, and it’s not some evil plan to permanently damage her. It’s just a simple loose relationship between two people who float an inch above the friendzone. That’s all. 

Friends, just slightly more. 

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles series #vampire!harry #vampire!harry styles #vampire!au #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles au #vampire au #writing #ysijwa

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

you set my soul on fire

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, breeding, heat cycle shit, cursing, degradation reader has a bunny quirk and recieves assistance from their two almost-boyfriends dabi n hawks

you couldn’t believe that this was happening.

you knew, of course, exactly what was going on. and you knew the reason why. and still, it surprised you to know that you were about to go into heat.

this was something that usually happened sporadically throughout the year, but you knew it could be triggered by specific stimulus.

like the two men you had been seeing.

it started with a sudden uptake of symptoms, like your body being more sensitive (especially your non-human parts, you had to sleep on your stomach even more than usual now to keep from rubbing on your tail at night), and your temperature rising slowly. you put the pieces together finally when you snapped at the poor mailman for being near your doorstep, like they had to do, for their job.

you weren’t particularly emotional out of heat, so this made clear to you what was happening.

but before you could really prep an arrangement or really do much, it was upon you. your body was hot, hot, hot. you couldn’t think straight, mind going into a bit of a frenzy as you lay in your bed. and as you realized where you were, your bunny brain (as you liked to not-so-fondly refer to it) decided that this was not the proper space for a heat. you were up and throwing your blankets off of your bed within the minute, stripping it down to the sheet and taking inventory of all of your supplies. you started laying them all back down, surrounding the edges of the bed in pillows (you had plenty just for these scenarios). to top it off, after you had made it safe and comfortable, you laid a few of your shirts into it and eventually went off into your apartment to find a different source of smell.

you knew that one of your boys— dabi— had left a shirt or something here, because you could faintly smell him and it was driving you a little bit crazy. as you rummaged through your living room, the smell got stronger, and with more and more fervor, you ripped your couch cushions off the couch, looked under it, looked behind it, until finally you heard a knock— putting an abrupt end to your frenzy. it still smelled like dabi, so you hoped and hoped that maybe you would get lucky enough to have the real thing in your nest tonight. still, you approached the door with caution, snatching it open to see your favorite zombie man, standing in the hallway of your apartment building. he didn’t have to worry about cameras here, the landlord couldn't afford to have them replaced after they were mysteriously broken around when dabi started coming around.

your knees shook as he looked you up and down with an indifferent expression, eyes looking further into your apartment to observe the mess you has just made in your feverish search. you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him, earning sharp inhale and a soft laugh from above as you nuzzled your way into his shoulder. your mind was going crazy as you inhaled deeply, feeling surrounded in the scent. dabi simply brought an arm around your waist, watching your fuzzy ears lower to your head in content and relaxation.

“hey, dollface, what’s with all the lovey-dovey shit? not complaining, but i saw you a couple days ago.” he murmured, rustling your hair with his free hand, eliciting an elated little clicking sound from you.

you didn’t speak, barely hearing him, too focused on rubbing your face into his coat. eventually, he just sighs softly and pushes you back into your apartment, closing the door behind him. you still hadn’t spoken, and he was a bit confused. he pushed you away gently, only for your foot to thump against your carpet. he laughed a bit at your furrowed brows, and the cute expression you donned. still, he had no answer.

“what’s goin’ on bunny?” he raised an eyebrow at your behaviour. usually, you talked too much. in the couple of months he had been in your life, he had never not once seen you act like this. it was a bit worrying, but he really didn’t want to the think about the implications of him being worried about you.

it took you a moment before you began to come to your senses again, the high of dabi’s presence wearing off slowly.

“hm?” you asked, shaking your head, ears popping back up as to signal that your brain was semi-back online.

“what’s up with you?” you were re-reminded of your surroundings, looking up to meet his eyes as another flare of heat ran through your torso at his neon blue gaze. your face heated up as the embarrassment kicked in, this momentary clarity more of a curse than a blessing.

“i—uh, shit. ok, so, it’s like— my quirk, y’know? like rabbits? and, y’know how rabbits—” you paused your stuttery ramblings, too embarrassed to explain the rest. you hoped and prayed that he would catch on, or something, but he didn’t.

“what? finish your sentence—” he was cut off by the dinging of your phone. he grabbed it before you could, sliding open the screen to see your texts with the other guy you had been fucking around with. dabi himself had been with him, so his face split in a wide grin as he saw the text that had popped up on the screen.

birdie: omw, 10 mins -3-

dabi chuckled as you grabbed the phone, immediately smiling as the heat took hold of your brain again, the prospect of both of them being in the same apartment, your apartment, your space, made your organs gooey.

“well, looks like we’ll have a visitor.” dabi murmured, grabbing at your waist as you sighed happily. your eyes were lidded and unfocused at you looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he backed you up to the wall opposite your door, pressing your lips together in a hungry kiss. it was bliss— the warmth you felt— as the kiss deepened nearly immediately. your stomach flipped as he pulled your thigh up to rest at his hip, other hand moving to fully surround your waist. he pressed his tongue along the seam of your lips, always just this side of too hot. it was lovely, opening to let him in eagerly as you ran your fingers up through his messy dyed hair. he pulled away for a moment.

“jump.” he ordered. it wasn’t a suggestion, so you did, hopping up to wrap your legs around his waist as he moved his way down to nip at your jawline. you could feel the rough staples against your skin. you rubbed your hips down against his crotch, earning a heavy pant against your ear from him, and a soft whine from yourself that you attempted to smother in his shoulder. he started to suck a dark hickey high up on your neck, impossible to hide. he had a habit for that, always so possessive. it turned you on like no other. though he was always a burner, keigo was always the biter. just the though of that got you even more excited, grinding down against the hardness in his pants with a new fervor.

and just as he went to bite along your collar bone, your front door opened. dabi had left it unlocked, and keigo had stumbled in to dabi pressing you against the wall.

“well well well, look at this show.” keigo grinned wide as he walked dabi turn his head to look at him.

“well, your boyfriend’s here.” dabi laughed softly as he murmured in your ear. you quickly derailed yourself from dabi’s arms to nearly tackle keigo, circling him once and wrapping your arms around him, rubbing your chin on his shoulder.

“hi baby.” keigo murmured, rubbing your ears, taken aback when you nearly folded against him at the sensation. you let out a chirp, making him laugh.

“ay, bird boy, you know what’s goin’ on with them?” dabi asked, gesturing to you, as you were face-first in keigo’s jacket.

“what’s up?” keigo asked as your ears lowered again in relaxation, letting out little purr-like clicks.

“they’re not really talkin’. i tried to make em’, no luck. i don’t even know if they’re hearin’ us.” he rubbed his neck.

you were on your own derailed thought train of brain goo. you grabbed keigo’s wrist, grabbing dabi’s as you passed him, and dragging them down your hallway. they simply just followed, both clearly confused. but once you hit your door and showed them the nest you had made, keigo’s eyes dilated and his breath sped up as he realized what was happening.

you had made a nest. you were all over them both. you were in heat.

and currently, you were looking at them for validation. honestly, it was a good nest. keigo had one at home, and the fact that you made a nest and showed them, despite the territorial nature of rabbits, showed your trust and even more showed your current level of horny.

“s’beautiful, baby.” he caught his breath and had his arms around you just like that, backing you up to fall into the nest. you looked gorgeous, spread out on the sheets. he had to get out of his clothes and make this happen or he thought he just might die. and with his hyperfocus, he failed to remember that dabi was still stood at the door, confused as all hell.

“hell, birdie, is this an animal quirk thing? should i go?” he asked, leant against your doorframe. everything in keigo’s territorial nature wanted him to say yes, wanted to take you then, wanted to prove a point, make you his, and your little whimper below him did not help, but as soon as he could clear up his bird brain he turned around to explain what was happening.

“it is an animal quirk thing, but i think they’d kill you if you left.” he laughed. “they’re in heat, you know what that is, right?” keigo hoped he had a clue so that he wouldn’t have to painstakingly explain it, wanting to save a bit of your dignity as you sat in the middle of your nest, eyes wide and glassy.

“yeah, i think i got a clue. its like a horny thing animals do, right?” dabi laughed softly, and keigo was relieved and also mortified for you.

“yeah. get over here.” keigo said, turning back to you. you immediately grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down with you into your nest. your brain was still goo, all you could really think about was the warmth of keigo against you. and soon, you felt another dip in the bed. without thinking, you let out a growl, pulling away to look around wildly. you registered dabi, and nearly jumped him as you pushed him back against your headboard. in a matter of seconds, you had yourself in his lap, rubbing down against his thigh with your head in the crook of his neck. he was completely shocked as you writhed, eventually brain catching up with him as he stared in awe at your figure against him, curves silhouetted in the streetlight through your window. he grabbed at your hips, centering you on his crotch and grinding up.

you immediately keened, back arching and leaning into him, your chests touching. you felt keigo approach from behind, letting out a little chirp as warning that your prey brain much appreciated before he touched you, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking, sensitivity shooting through your veins. you felt surrounded, but not scared as keigo pinned his arms around you, above dabi’s head, caging you in. you felt those teeth you adored nipping at the back of your neck, and you immediately pushed your hips out against him in submission on instinct. your back bowed, dropping to your elbows, putting you in line with dabi’s torso.

“ah, shit. bunny’s eager tonight, huh?” dabi murmured, reaching to pet at your sensitive ears, setting you alive again like a livewire. you moaned into his shirt, grinding back against keigo. you tugged at his shirt, pulling off your own and pulling at your other clothes as well. dabi tugged his shirt off, but before he could throw it somewhere off in the room, you took it from him, setting it next to him in his neck. you took keigo’s and did the same, his pupils dilating a considerable amount.

he leaned over you, whispering in your ear. “show off, baby. you know how to, don’t you? help him out and i’ll take care of you. i know you can do it, i know you do—” he cut off as you dropped yet again back to the position you were once in, on your knees and elbows, legs spread, but this time, your heat on full display. keigo wasted no time grabbing your thighs and licking a stripe over your hole, making you jump for a moment before pressing back into his face with a whine.

dabi, from above, was watching all of this as his breath ran shallow. he really liked this side of you, all eager and breathy and ready to show off? oh he loved it.

“i love when you act like a whore, baby, it’s such a pretty look on you.” dabi murmured as keigo got to work pressing into you with his fingers as he sucked on your clit. the words set you on fire, panting against his pants. you decided to get to work, unbuttoning his pants— pulling them and his boxers down and helping him shimmy them off— to pull out his sizeable cock. just the sight made you drool, and with no shame or pride to account for in your heat-brain, you bit your lip in excitement. you started sucking on the head, moaning around him as keigo hit a nice spot inside you. your tail was raised but dabi couldn’t help but reach to pet it. this made you whine softly, sinking his cock further into the wet heat of your mouth. usually, it would be a task for you to go all the way, but your entire body was relaxed, and with that, your throat almost barely constricted when dabi bucked up in surprise.

“god damn baby—” he groaned, biting his lip as his head fell back to hit the headboard. you continued working him as keigo worked you.

and speaking of it, he was doing a good fucking job. you were already so wet, and in addition to his saliva, it was dripping down your thighs. the sight made keigo growl, a noise that made you shiver and wiggle your hips just the slightest bit.

he tapped your thigh. “baby, where do ya keep your condoms?” the one day he didn’t bring his own.

you pulled off dabi with a lewd slurp, shaking your head. keigo grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“words, baby, i need words.” he said softly.

it was a moment before your brain caught up to speed. “kei, i—” your face was on fire, as you leaned into his ear. “keigo, don’t. don’t— use one.” you finally forced out, and he realized what you were asking, and decided that he would pay for that mess if it went wrong, because the thought of cumming in you was one he literally could not pass up. his wings flared up.

“what, you want me to breed you, baby? fill you up?” he teased, words dripping with content and arousal as he rubbed your hips. “present yourself, convince me.” he murmured in your ear and pushed you back down, making eye contact with a confused and surprised dabi.

dabi honestly was just along for the ride and really really enjoying it. especially when he watched you push your ass into the air, back arched and chest laying on his legs. he always loved when keigo got like this, that predatory glint in his eyes. dabi had no doubt that whatever words he had just poured into your ear were pure and unfiltered filth.

it was really hot.

and as he felt his cock being engulfed in a warm heat yet again, he watched keigo line up with your cunt unwrapped. he was going to come inside. the thought of that sent warmth even further into dabi’s gut. and even more, he wanted sloppy seconds. he had a thing for it.

and as keigo plunged into you, the moan you let out on dabi’s dick had him pulling your head up by your hair so that he wouldn’t cum right there. he wanted his sloppy seconds, so for now, he grabbed your fluffy ears and pulled you into a kiss. that had you keening and clenching down on keigo, wetness rolling down your thighs. you thrusted back onto keigo, finally bottoming out with a shared groan. once dabi had come down from the edge, you returned to your work on his pierced cock, getting into a rhythm between the two men working you out for all you had.

“holy shit— you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. god, you’re so tight.” keigo was bent over you, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades and giving nips to your shoulders as he drilled into you, carving out your insides. your tail was rubbing between you two and all this sensitivity had you pulling off dabi’s cock to desperately pant into his hip bone.

“pretty bunny, doin’ us so good, such a whore.” dabi murmured as he played with your fuzzy ears yet again, and you went back to work to his excitement. you were nearing your end, and you could tell keigo was too by the way his breathing was absolutely ragged against your back. you couldn’t see, but his wings were spread out around you three, on instinct.

“gonna fill you up, baby—” he groaned as you clenched down yet again when dabi tugged at your ears yet again, “you want that? you want it?” you could only nod feverishly with a loud whine, returned to panting into dabi’s hipbone, putting yourself to work sucking a hickey into it that had dabi’s hips jutting up.

and as promised, keigo spilled into you. the sensation of warmth filling your gut, the thought of being bred— pushed you off the edge you had been stationary on for a while now, clenching down with your face contorted into a silent scream as you milked his cock. he fucked you through your and his own orgasm, only pulling out when your moans turned to sharp whimpers. he watched his own cum drip out of you, the sight riling him up and ruffling his feathers in excitement. but still, he had to tend you you.

you flopped down, going limp with dabi rubbing your back softly as you came down from your orgasm.

“are you good, baby? i’m gonna go get them some water.” he signalled to dabi, putting his boxers back on and taking off to your kitchen. he soon came back with three water bottles, poking you until you raised your head in curiosity and gulped one down, setting the now empty bottle away.

and as soon as that was over, the heat in your limbs came sprawling back with a vengeance, lighting you up just as it began the first time. your senses were even more heightened now as you writhed against dabi yet again.

“oh shit, you back? i call sloppy seconds.” dabi chuckled as he moved from his spot against the headboard and practically manhandled you into position. he didn’t wanna put you on your back, because he knew your tail was sensitive, so he raised you up to your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you with his head leaning on your shoulder. he lined himself up with your entrance as he felt keigo’s own cum drip out of you, you pressing back against him. he pushed in slowly, making you feel every little piece of metal as he set your body on edge.

you were slightly more coherent this time, enough for clear words, but still your heat-addled brain had robbed you of any shame you had. thats how, whenever dabi was full seated inside you with no movement, you started running your mouth.

“please— c’mon dabi, give it to me. i’ve- i’ve been good, ple—” a whimper as you felt him pull out slowly and then a pleasured yelp once he slammed back into you, setting into a brutal rhythm. his hands heated up with every little word, noise, or twitch of your tail. pretty soon you were whimpering loudly as you felt his fingertips get just a little bit too hot, burning your flesh and mixing pain into the brain-melting pleasure you were experiencing from the constant drag of him against your walls. keigo’s spend still dripping out of you, dabi smacked your ass ruthlessly, making you fall onto your elbows with a yelp. this also led you to make eye contact with keigo, who was currently staring at you with the most predatory look in his eye you’d ever seen. just that was enough to make you whimper, not to mention how he was palming himself from the head of the bed.

“you should cum on their face, kei—” dabi states from above, “show them who they belong to, or whatever.” he laughed softly, melting into a groan when you clamped down at the idea. he let go of your hips, nudging your thigh for you to move farther up the bed to reach keigo. “go on, help him out. get him off, i know you’re good at it, whore.” his words were harsh, but his tone was warm and gooey, deep in his throat. you clicked your tongue in happiness, crawling up to keigo to kiss him briefly. dabi positioned himself behind you again, slipping in and slamming into you without warning, hitting that spot, oh god—

you moaned into keigo’s mouth, breaking it to wrap your arm around his shoulder and reaching one down to help stroke him off. he was warm in your hand, and his breath was warm against your neck as he left more and more marks. dabi’s strokes became the rhythm that you used to get keigo off as well, eating up their noises like you would die without them.

your second orgasm of the night came to you quickly and unexpectedly, knocking you down to be face-level with keigo’s torso as you let out a loud gasp, clenching around dabi who still managed to slam into you. and he continued to do so, even when it began to work. the oversensitivity was sending your brain into overdrive, your legs shaking so much you could barely keep yourself up. your hand fell away from keigo’s cock and was instead just focused on keeping yourself upright,

“oh— dabi, please, hurts—” you murmured small little mantras that fell on deaf ears as he continued to fuck you, and you felt another pressure building.

“jesus— fuck, fuck, okay—” the pressure continued to build as you panted, and when it snapped, you whimpered loudly as you soaked the sheets, squirting and practically coating your own and dabi’s thighs.

dabi groaned loudly, trying to muffle it by biting his lip but failing as he neared his end. keigo worked his own cock as well, with your head moved to lay on his thigh, trying to catch your breath when each one was a whine from the oversensitivity that dabi was working you into. finally, dabi came, releasing inside you and fucking you through it with a moan as your burns on your hips only got worse. to tell the truth, you actually really liked it. they scarred over and looked kinda cool.

keigo came a few seconds later, painting your face as you stuck your tongue out to catch, putting on your last show. and then everything went still for a moment as everyone tried to catch their breath. you took a large gulp from one of the two remaining water bottles, then handing them to keigo and dabi. you were way more coherent enough, and what just happened hit you in stride. dabi went off to get a washcloth because your legs were practically jello.

“fuck, i’m gonna have to wash ALL of my fuckin sheets. kei, angel, you’re helping me with this.” you stated, chuckling softly with a raspy voice. you took the washcloth when dabi returned, wiping your face down and anything that had dripped down your legs. you were still leaking cum, though. your rabbit brain was very, very happy. but your human brain was kinda freaking out about it.

“dabi, can you go get a morning-after pill? i’ll make you breakfast tomorrow. i gotta take a shower, but you’re free to join me before you leave. i’m having momentary clarity, but know that this probably isn’t over. thank you both for helping me.” you pushed out in panicked breaths, standing up and finding a towel to use in the shower. you gave them both a soft kiss before limping your way into the bathroom (not without a cackle from dabi and a muffled chuckle from keigo).

as you step into the warm spray, you hear the front door shut and you hear the bathroom door open. keigo stepped into the shower with you.

“he’ll be back with the pill, and i put your sheets in the wash. now lemme wash your hair, sweetheart.” he murmured, and again, you melted.

#dabi #hawks #bnha hawks #bnha dabi #keigo takami #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x gn reader #dabi x gn reader #bnha x gn reader

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Iam kind of gratefull for this bts break. It has allowed me to take a step back and reflect on why iam still here. I have discovered bts in 2020 and since then I haven't gone a day without watching content and thinking about them non stop. Iam happy that this obsession is reduced. I used to watch them during my breaks at work I stopped hanging out with my coworkers and even while studying I couldn't focus for longer than 20 min. So this break has allowed me to take a step back and wonder why I was this obsessed.

I feel like the constant stream of content and armies over hyping everything the boys do caused me to hyperfocus on them. To be honest I never cared about celebrities and their private life put when you are in a place where people are constantly praising bts for the littlest things, putting them on a high pedestal and telling you how you need to support them or else you are not a real fan. It really gets to you.

I find celeberty culture so wierd honestly why are we so obsessed with these people? Why do we feel the need to protect these strangers most of us never met and why do we get so afraid of them having flaws?

Iam trying to find new hobbies now. I try to just be a casual fan but it's a little hard : (

Do you have any tips?

Hi anon!

I also think this break is beneficial. Or it should be because as you said, it allows us to take a step back and maybe use this opportunity to focus on other parts of our lives which are still connected to entertainment, pop culture and/or hobbies. The constant stream of content keeps us hooked and it affects our online presence because we don't want to miss a thing and because it also makes us feel good. The relationship is already established so once we enter a period in which we don't receive what we are used to, there is the risk of destabilization. And this can go multiple ways. You can either look at it as a good thing because it gives you the opportunity to think about your behavior (which is something that you said you've done), or in other cases it makes people more anxious and demanding because they don't know how to deal in a situation where there is a lack of content. When it comes to celebrity culture, this is not something new, but it is exacerbated today because of social media. People used to be interested in celebrities since the 19th century (so I've read at some point, perhaps I'm wrong) and the 20th century, with its moving pictures made people more interested in seeing actors and singers which to this day, are still high up in the celebrity hierarchy. It's also a bit similar to a form of worship.

Why are we interested in celebrities? Because they are different than the average person. We may like gossip as well and knowing stuff about others, but X who is just a barista at the local coffee shop is not as interesting as I don't know, Lady Gaga. And with BTS, I have probably mentioned this already in other posts, is that we get so much content that makes us think we know them better than other celebrities. That we understand them. And there is a huge advantage here which is that they are nice guys and their type of content reflects that. Just look at Run BTS and Bon Voyage. We like to see a friendship like that. And they're funny and polite and they are beautiful men. That's a killer combination.

As to any tips, I can only tell you what I do now, and this is a process that started way before this break. I try to go back to the things that I liked before BTS. I stopped watching films for almost 2 years, but now I'm back at it. I try to read more, something that it's not fanfiction. I'm currently failing at that, as Zadie Smith's Swing Time is currently sitting on my nightstand with only 30 pages read while I still devour fanfiction almost every night because it relaxes me. But I'm not giving up. I also have to focus more on work now, which definitely doesn't allow me to think about BTS 24/7. You can try and pick a hobby for which you don't need to use technology. You can paint or draw just for the sake of it, maybe try knitting (it's very relaxing and it helps you clear your head). Or you can tell yourself that you will check for updates or watch BTS content only during certain times during the day.

Hope this helps :)

#asks #bts discourse #bts fandom culture