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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3 and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist :

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

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Harry hates clubs.

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours.

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit.

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife.

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor?

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter.

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation.

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you.

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now.

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department.

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT.

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame.

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite.

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving.

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize.

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results.

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well.

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it.

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static.

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire.

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does.

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work.

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.”

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd.

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.”

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.”

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering.

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.”

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.”

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.”

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist.

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.”

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move.

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt.

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam.

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance.

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.”

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground.

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer.

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really.

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized.

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember.

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more.

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in.

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional.

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since.

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.”

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least.

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.”

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.”

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?”

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.”

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.”

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.”

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?”

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.”

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident.

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one.

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger.

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges.

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection.

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly.

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together.

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect.

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now.

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.”

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.”

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“I’m already there, mate.”

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.”

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night.

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough.

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.”

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.”

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.”

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!”

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles.

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“You’re older than I am!”

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal.

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?”

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle.

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned.

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?”

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps.

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend.

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device.

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious.

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does.

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.”

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.”

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.”

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?”

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?”

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?”

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.”

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.”

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face.

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open.

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation.

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.”

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.”

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return.

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.”

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.”

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.”

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.”

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up.

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.”

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake.

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown.

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable.

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him.

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk.

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world.

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs.

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is.

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now.

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.”

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile.

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it.

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie.

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly.

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste.

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke.

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way.

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here.

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight.

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause.

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing.

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him.

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass.

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection.

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface.

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything.

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.”

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for.

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.”

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night.

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him.

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer.

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding.

When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind.

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner.

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault.

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come.

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes.

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...”

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears.

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own.

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested.

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.”

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job.

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known.

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city.

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life.

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit.

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class.

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again.

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move.

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film.

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity.

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions.

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house.

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree.

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria.

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand.

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them.

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.”

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken.

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs.

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger.

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats.

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor.

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.”

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought.

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life.

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail.

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb.

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?”

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.”

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.”

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.”

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.”

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?”

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.”

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human.

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.”

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room.

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly.

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.”

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile.

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.”

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised.

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.”

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.”

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach.

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.”��

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give.

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath.

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.”

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.”

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.”

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks.

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs.

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge.

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.”

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?”

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.”

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again.

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke.

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.”

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.”

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning.

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil.

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.”

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name.

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done.

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight.

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.”

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.”

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.”

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer.

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had.

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.”

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys.

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell.

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them.

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately.

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.”

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Long Nights - part 1

Neil x Reader

Chapter 1: Don’t kill my vibe

summary: all days blend into one, and as your friend brings back an unusual challenge, you are more than happy to accept it

warnings: 18+, explicit language, some violence, blood mention

author’s note: Woot woot, new series hype!

This setting has been brewing inside me for months now, and what started as an idea for a one-shot, turned out to be a fully fleshed out series (f!Reader again, for more gender neutral one check out StuckInReverse series!). And a good chance to introduce this brand new dynamic. Aaaand to play with some rogue tropes - because guess who's gonna teach Neil all he knows about locks and how to pick them? (canon what canon or at least let’s forget the implications for a moment and let's enjoy all the HAND CONTENT instead)

I’m really excited to share this story with you all!

The song for this chapter is Sigrid - Don’t Kill My Vibe

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

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Tag list: @vaneilla @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway

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You absent-mindedly swirled your coffee and ice cubes clinked against the tall glass as you watched a gutsy pigeon searching for crumbs under a table right next to yours. The green and purple feathers on its collar were shining in the morning sun, not as merciless as it was about to get in just a few hours, but still heating the crowded plaza to barely acceptable levels.

“I don’t know, man, all days blend into one, maybe it’s time to skip town again.”

Mahir leaned back on his chair, his glance sliding through the swarm of tourists pouring from the alley nearby.

“No new gigs?”

You mirrored his pose and shrugged.

“Some, but they just lack… pizzaz.”

“Pizzaz?”

“Yes,” - you sighed and gestured vaguely - “that certain oomph, that sparkle, excitement, when your heart starts beating faster at the sole thought--”

“You sure you’re not looking for...would say love but I know you too well, so... a good shag?” your companion chimed in with a sardonic smile plastered on his face.

You scoffed, amused by that insinuation.

“First of all - thank you,” you started, your eyes lighting up and your grin getting wider with every word. “Second - that thrill is better than a good shag, and after a job well done, you can ride that high much longer than even the best orgasm.”

“Forget I said anything--”

“And finally,” - you continued, ignoring his distressed groan - “you skip all the awkwardness of the morning after.”

Mahir raised his hands in defeat, and even though he looked as if he took a mental note to never tease you like that again, you were sure he knew exactly what you meant. After all, he was your favorite partner in crime, and even though he’d come clean (...or at least slightly cleaner) a few years ago, you still could count on him whenever you needed to pull off a spectacular and/or a straight-up batshit crazy stunt.

“How’s Paddsy?”

“Grand, as far as I know, but haven’t heard from him in years, why?” you asked, tilting your head.

Your friend looked at you with impish sparks in his eyes.

“I remember how you kept yourself amused during your teenage years.”

“The challenges?” You raised your brow and laughed at the memory. “Ha, petty theft is one way to fight a dullness of existence, all right.”

“I bet you’ve gotten sloppier with age.”

That taunt in his overly casual tone was clear as day. Were you really that bored, though?

“Please, I could do it right here and now without any prep.”

...yes.

He sent you a smug smile and started browsing the crowd for a possible target. “Okay, what about... that guy over there?”

You followed his gaze and your eyes laid on a pair of men, lost in a conversation, keeping to the peripheries of tourist groups as they walked through the square. One of them was gesturing with enthusiasm, a wide smile brightening his tanned face, the blond hair in complete disarray combined with a slightly unbuttoned white linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves and beige trousers completed a disheveled look. Couldn’t be older than thirty. He was accompanied by a more composed middle-aged Black man, a maroon polo shirt and grey suit pants complimented his fit and refined posture.

“The yellow mane or the polo shirt?” you asked and Mahir snorted in response.

“The polo one.”

You looked the stranger up and down as you assessed the case. Even from afar, you could see an outline of a wallet in the pocket of his trousers, and the short sleeves meant easy access to the watch.

You smacked your lips and pouted. “Too easy.”

“Okay, so both of them,” he said, watching with satisfaction as you perked up at the suggestion.

“Now we’re talking!” you laughed, clapping your hands. You pointed at Mahir’s camera sitting on the table, internally blessing his choice of hobbies. “Mind if I borrow this for a moment?”

“Sure, whatever.”

You bounced at your feet and grabbed the camera and its case, securing both straps on your shoulder. A sudden rush mixed with a familiar coldness as you got your head in the game.

“Be right back.”

Circling the crowd, you positioned yourself on the path of your targets, blending in with the crowd. Right then, nobody would tell you from other slaphappy sightseers, mesmerized by the architecture of the Old Town district. Stopping abruptly every few steps to take yet another photo. Too preoccupied to pay attention to your surroundings. Making it way too easy to bump into someone, you know? Or, if you were clumsy enough, two people one after another, in a little live-action pinball moment.

You raised the camera and stepped back right into the polo guy, yelping at the impact.

“Sorry!” you squealed, jumping out of his way. Straight into the blonde man. “Oh gee, I’m terribly sorry!”

“You all right?” he asked as he caught you, placing hands on your arms for a split-second hold, enough to prevent you from bouncing back and bumping into someone else.

You turned around and met the bright blue eyes studying you curiously.

“Yep,” you mumbled through sheepish laughter. “And you?”

He beamed, raking his unruly hair with his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flitted back to his companion, who was looking at you two with polite interest, visibly eager to continue his stroll.

“Sorry again! Have a lovely day, gents!” you chirped, sending one more apologetic smile and squeezing between them to walk away in the opposite direction.

Ten steps later you twirled around. Aiming the camera at a statue nearby, you checked on the men with the corner of your eye. The blonde guy glanced over his shoulder for a moment, but he didn’t seem suspicious. Good.

You made your way back to the cafe and fell back on your chair.

“No sweat,” you said and smirked, handing the camera back to Mahir and placing the case on the table. You turned it around so he could see what was inside - two watches, some mileage card you pulled out of the polo guy’s wallet, and something you grabbed from the other one… an Oyster card for public transport in London? What a combo. And of course, you could have picked the entire wallets instead, but what would be the fun in that? You didn’t have to make their life that much harder, after all, you just wanted to prove a point.

Mahir peeked inside and smacked his tongue.

“Okay, you still got it.”

“Damn straight!” You reached for your abandoned coffee and emptied it in one swig. “But I’d better get going.”

“Wait, what about the loot?”

“Keep it,” - you shrugged, leaning in to place a small kiss on the bearded cheek - “and tip that nice waitress well, will ya?”

“Sure,” sighed Mahir and patted your hand on his shoulder. “Be careful out there, mate.”

“Always.”

You stepped out on the sunny square again. There was nothing particularly interesting on the agenda for the day, so you decided to take a longer and more scenic route to your apartment. You put on the headphones and with your usual playlist on shuffle, you maneuvered between groups of people on your way to one of the alleys. And just as you were about to cross the road, someone blocked your path. You glanced up and it took all your self-control to maintain a neutral expression, despite all the warning sirens blaring at the full volume inside your head. How even--

“Darling! Long time no see!” said the blonde man you’d just robbed gleefully and grinned, his arms spread wide as if you’d known each other for years. Without dropping a jovial face, he leaned in and gave you a chaste hug, using the opportunity to utter straight into your ear. “Don’t make a fuss and come with me.”

Bloody fantastic.

The stranger linked your arms together and started walking down the street, pulling you with him in a little too rushed version of a friendly stroll. It wasn’t your first rodeo, though.

“Where are you taking me?” you squealed, faking badly covered distress and scouting the area in search of his partner, but the polo guy was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, we need to have a little chat,” he said nonchalantly, securing a grip on you with another hand on your arm. “And the streets today are awfully loud, don’t you think?”

He dragged you into a back alley, losing the chummy demeanor with every step further away from the crowds. Lucky for you, the new setting worked in your favor. You’d been indulging him long enough, anyway.

Shifting your balance, you stomped hard on his foot, using the element of surprise to break free. Grabbing the blonde strands, you pulled his head down to meet your flying knee. A muffled groan escaped the stranger’s mouth and his curses followed you when you dashed to a small back street to your right. These few seconds of a head start were more than enough though, especially since you knew the area like the back of your hand. And that’s why you didn’t hesitate when you reached a chain-link fence. You jumped and bounced off the wall, pulling up on the edge and vaulting through the obstacle with ease, then gracefully landed on the other side and turned around just to see the man hitting the fence with frustration. He glared at you, wiping the blood from his face, and you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“See ya!” you giggled and blew him a kiss, disappearing into another alley.

You emerged on the main street at a reasonable distance from the place you’d left the stranger, weaving between people on the busy pavement, making sure nobody followed you. After a few blocks, you grew quite certain that you’d lost the unwanted tail. You smiled to yourself. The day turned out to be way more exciting than you could have expected. And it wasn’t even noon yet.

You noticed a dark grey SUV pulling over next to you, but by the time you realized what was going on, it was already too late. The next thing you knew, you got dragged into the backseat and trapped between the blonde man and the polo guy. Shit.

You glanced at the driver, searching for clues about what you’d gotten yourself into. The woman behind a wheel gave off a paramilitary vibe, but you couldn’t be sure. Anyway, there was no point in trying to escape - you needed to wait for a more suitable moment. You didn’t have too much room to squirm around, so you just fixed your gaze on the road ahead.

“Well, this is awkward,” you said, breaking the silence as the car started moving again.

“As my colleague said - we need to talk.”

You looked to your right at the polo man. “Abduction is such an underrated conversation starter.”

“So is theft,” he noted, a shade of smile tainting the corner of his mouth. “I really liked that watch.”

“I have no idea--”

“We’ve checked the square’s surveillance system,” he interrupted you, but his statement was so ridiculous you just had to laugh it off.

“Now you’re insulting me.”

He raised a brow as he studied you with satisfaction. “You’d rather admit that you’re guilty?”

“No,” - you bridled, slowly getting tired of the whole charade - “but there’s no way you got to the feed so fast, and with how crowded it was out there, there is no way you’d find anything incriminating in there.” You hesitated for a moment, then narrowed your eyes. “Speaking of-- how did you even find me?”

A sudden movement to your left made you switch focus to the quiet blonde man. Still pressing a bunch of bloodied tissues to his face, he showed you his phone - a red dot was blinking steadily in the middle of a screen.

...tracking? You opened your mouth to ask a follow-up question, but then it hit you and your eyes flared up. That hug.

“Sneaky. I like it.” You grinned and nodded at him. “How’s your nose?”

He lowered his hand with the tissues. It was bruised and swollen, but you couldn’t tell if you’d managed to break it or not. Still - ouch.

“Never better,” he said and grimaced slightly.

“You should put some ice on it.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t say.”

Biting your lip to stifle a giggle, you glanced back to your right. “So? What do you wanna talk about?”

The other man shook his head.

“Not in the car. We’re almost there.”

You looked out of the window to find out you were driving into an industrial zone, and not the nice part of it. You didn’t mind, though - abandoned and creepy factory buildings were your jam, and they made excellent locations if you ever needed a chance to escape.

After a few minutes, you reached your destination. You got out of the car parked near the entrance to an empty hall. The sunbeams were pouring inside through the broken windows near the ceiling, lighting up a small metal table and a pair of chairs.

“Kudos for prepping such a dramatic setting, gents,” you laughed, taking a seat at the table. The polo man sighed and sat in front of you, sliding a folder with documents your way. You peeked inside, only to confirm your suspicions. They got some serious dirt on you, all right.

“Let’s start again, properly this time. This is Neil,” - he said, pointing at his companion, who was standing nearby, leaning against a pillar - “and I’m The Protagonist.”

You gaped at him and slumped your shoulders. “The Protag--...you’re shitting me,” you huffed, but the man was staring at you indifferently. “Dude, your parents must hate you,” you snorted, not even trying to keep a straight face. “What’s wrong with-- ...I don’t know, David? Or some of the classics, like John?”

“That’s how everyone here addresses me, and I’d like you to do the same.”

“Do I have to?” you groaned as you looked at Neil. He simply nodded, so you had no other option but to roll with it. For now. “Ugh, fine,” you said, shrugging. “You guys are spies or something?”

“Or something,” said The Protagonist. “We use certain espionage techniques to our advantage.”

“Sure,” - you scoffed - “next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you need my help to save the world.”

Neil’s amused snort made you glance at him again. “Well, maybe indirectly.” Playful sparks lit up his eyes as he gave you a half-smile.

Are they for real? If that was an elaborate prank, this would be a good gotcha moment, but the men seemed serious enough.

You shifted on your seat, laughing nervously.

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’ve got the wrong gal.”

The Protagonist pointed at the folder in front of you.

“We need someone with your skills.”

...right. “Such as?”

“Lockpicking.”

You arched a brow. “Why? You need me to crack something for you?”

“No.” The Protagonist shook his head and took a deep breath. “We need you to teach our agents how to do it.”

“Hard pass,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m not a tutor material.”

All of a sudden, a familiar voice rang behind you.

“Show her the lock.”

And then you connected all the dots.

“Mahir, you asshole!” you fumed, glaring at your friend as he joined you by the table. “Sloppier with age, I swear, you’re the main reason I have trust issues!”

“Main?” - he sent you a skeptical look - “What about--”

“Okay, you’re in top three, but mind you, today’s stunt alone got you five places up the table.”

“Oh no, I’m gonna cry myself to sleep tonight,” he mocked in his usual deadpan manner.

You huffed - “You better,” - mentally kicking yourself for falling for his ruse so easily. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d lost your edge. That’s what you got for staying in one place for too long. You blinked rapidly, getting out of your head to focus on an item The Protagonist placed on the table. A small metal lock, pretty basic. No security pins, but you knew this model was made with sloppy tolerances that could give any beginner a headache.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Give it a try,” said The Protagonist and waved his hand in encouragement.

You reached to the pocket of your pants for a compact set of lockpicking tools you always had on you. Nothing fancy, rather a handy emergency set than anything serious - those were safely stored in your apartment, ready for the real work. Unlike the one you were about to do. Or so you thought.

You placed a tiny wrench at the bottom of a keyway and applied a minimal amount of tension, trying to set the first pin inside using a short hook. Trying and failing. The feedback from the tools was bizarre, like the regular laws of physics no longer applied to the lock’s mechanism.

“What in the fresh hell--” you uttered through gritted teeth, pulling out the tools to examine the peculiar lock.

Mahir smirked. “Enough pizzaz?”

“Shut up, I’m still mad at you,” you waved at him dismissively and focused back on The Protagonist, who was watching your attempts with polite interest. And a hint of a satisfied smile. “Where did you get that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he replied, leaning back on the chair. “At least for now, that is if you’d like to reconsider our proposal.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, drumming the fingers on the table. Mahir, you bastard. Of course he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist an offer like this. Even if that meant a certain commitment, and that wasn’t something you were particularly fond of.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m gonna teach only one person.”

“Deal.”

As you shook on it, Neil left his spot by the pillar.

“That will be me.”

You nodded in agreement and asked, “What about the lock?”

“Keep it,” said The Protagonist, standing up. As if he’d share the secrets straight away. “I want to hear your thoughts on it the next time we see each other.”

“And when is that gonna be?”

He just smiled enigmatically. “Soon. Mahir - a word?”

“Is he always like that?” you asked Neil as you got up, watching the others making their way towards the exit, but he just shrugged in return.

“He’s a busy man.”

You eyed your soon-to-be student curiously, and he responded in such, although suddenly losing some of the confidence he’d had before. Even with the bruised face, he radiated with this natural charm, a soft smile and the blonde strands falling into the bright blue eyes only adding to the overall appeal.

“Sorry about the nose.”

“Thanks,” - he smirked - “can’t blame you for that though, right?”

Grinning, you extended your hand in an informal truce offering.

“No hard feelings then?”

“Not at all,” he said as your palms clapped together and you smacked each other’s arms playfully.

With any leftover tension gone, all you had to do was to discuss the schedule and a few other crucial details. Neil took some notes and promised to get everything ready over the next few days. He even offered to drive you home, but you politely turned him down. A long walk, even slightly longer than previously anticipated, seemed more tempting.

Your fingers brushed against the weird lock in your pocket and you smiled to yourself.

For the first time in months, your heart started beating a little bit faster.

(next chapter->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #mahir tenet #neil tenet imagine #long nights

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nengojo · 3 years

Note

Could we please get some relationship headcanons for Ann, Makoto, Futaba and Haru?

i kinda went overboard and wrote more than I expected... but i am a sap for relationship hcs!! also saw that 4/23 is makoto’s bday, which is very cool and convenient for me hehe ,, hope you like this <33

word count: 1.549 warnings: SLIGHT STORY SPOILER IN HARU'S PART tags/genre: fluff, just all of it

requests are open!

Takamaki Ann

She loves to pamper you. Be it buying you stuff, treating you her favorite desserts, or staying over at your place and dressing you up with cute outfits. You try to do the same for her and she enjoys it as well.

A LOT of PDA, though it’s not over the top. She’d pepper kisses all over your face whenever she’s excited. Or always bury her face in your neck whenever she needs to be closer to you.

Even though Ann hasn’t dated anyone before you, she definitely learned and read up on how to be the best girlfriend. Probably read those relationships magazines (she denies it though)

Ann prefers simpler dates at the park or karaoke, but she wouldn’t mind making reservations for fancier restaurants if there’s an occasion. Would definitely choose buffets over the 5-star restaurant though.

Speaking of occasions, she’s the type to have celebrations for every little thing you guys do together as a couple. It can range from monthsaries, your first beach date, or your first night together. Ann keeps trinkets with her from every date you two go on.

Ann always has you on her mind. If she sees a new cheesecake shop, she buys it thinking that you would enjoy sharing it with her. When she saw cute phone charms, she bought a pair so you and her would have a “couple-y” item.

Would be into double dates, she doesn’t say it, but it definitely comes from her competitive side of showing off. Ann wants everyone to know she’s dating the best person ever. 💕

Introduces you to her parents through Skype. Ann says she couldn’t wait till her parents come back from their trips, so you could properly meet them. She quells your nervousness by saying that they already approved of you.

Petnames are minimal, but it’s very sweet when she does use them with you. You think it’s because she enjoys the flustered expression on your face when she calls you “baby” or “sweetie”.

Ann’s just a proud girlfriend! Be ready to be treated like the royalty you are, as you made her feel her worth once more.

Niijima Makoto

Similar to Ann, she values your relationship and you greatly. Makoto would be careful as possible around you. Always tending to your needs, mindful of what she says and does around you. There’s constant communication between you and her.

Probably would overheat out of embarrassment if she tries to cling onto you when in public, so hand-holding and touching knees while sitting together is enough for her.

Makoto DEFINITELY researched every possible tip and ‘guide’ on how to be the perfect girlfriend. You insist that she doesn’t need to incorporate all those into your relationship, saying that she’s perfect as the way she is.

With all that studying though, she actually sets up the best dates for you two. She always invites you to a newly-opened restaurant or gets the best seats whenever there’s a film showing nearby.

That said, she still prefers dates in secluded areas, places similar to Leblanc. She has this favorite nature trail that she found out about in dating forums and would take you there on nightly walks, talking about everything and nothing.

Makoto doesn’t announce your relationship to others, thinking that it’s better if people found out naturally. She likes the look on people’s faces when she admits to having a significant other while she acts all innocent and pure about it.

Her sister would openly confront her about your relationship, but Sae is lowkey super supportive of you and her. She says it’s good that someone is at Makoto’s side when she isn’t there.

She acts composed around others, but you’re the only one she lets see her vulnerable side. You tell her it’s adorable that you can easily tease her. (please don’t tease her too much or she’ll implode from being too flustered)

Makoto would think she’s too mature for petnames, but you don’t hold it against her, especially when she says your name with so much love in her voice every time.

Makoto is an observant girlfriend! She says it’s because she wants you to know that she genuinely cares and that she’s grateful to be yours.

Sakura Futaba

Futaba’s relationship with you feels natural from the start, despite her insistence that she would suck being a girlfriend. You reassure her at the start that she would do great with little to no effort, and she does :)

Wouldn’t even think twice about PDA, She feels safe and secure when she’s closer to you, so the more contact, the better. If she could, Futaba would shamelessly cling onto your back like a koala. (and you’d let her)

She says that experience is the best teacher, so she went into your relationship completely blind. The whole thing had its setbacks; she tried to kiss you out of nowhere one time, since “that’s what couples do, right?” You told her that there was no rush, and she was grateful for that.

She’s a fast learner though, and it manifests in her innocent but sincere gestures. When she thinks that you’re sad, she tells you jokes or shows you a meme she liked on her phone. Futaba thinks that whatever makes her happy, might cheer you up too.

Absolutely loves talking about her interests to you, because she knows that you would never judge her or question what she likes. You enjoy being on the listening side, since the way Futaba lights up is enough for you.

Alternatively, she’s a very active listener whenever you would talk about your day or share something about your interests. Futaba encourages you to tell her more about it, and on her own time, she learns about your said interests so she can participate in the conversations better.

In terms of interests, she convinced you to play video games with her (if you don’t already play) and it’s already a date for the two of you. Dates always involve either trips to Akihabara, arcade hopping, or the park when she wants quiet times with you.

Sojiro enjoys seeing you two interact whenever you guys stop by at Leblanc. When Futaba was in the restroom, he whispered to you saying that he hasn’t seen Futaba this energetic ever since she was a kid. That meant a lot to you.

She started calling you exaggerated names like “my lovely sweetheart babycakes” or “little fluffball whiskers”. Other than that, her favorite petname for you was “bub”, since she said the funny word fit you well. You love hearing it from her too.

Futaba is a heartfelt girlfriend! Your bond with each other has always been close, and now you get the chance to be closer.

Okumura Haru

Haru would be reserved from openly showing affection at the start, but you give her all the time and space she needs. She appreciates it greatly and reciprocates the effort in kind.

PDA is a no-no, although she does unknowingly flirt with you in the sweetest way. She has a way with words that makes the simplest compliment seem like the highest praise, and it’s enough to make you feel loved.

With her training for marriage, she obviously knows the basic aspects of a relationship. Taking care of you comes naturally to her, yet you were there to show her that she can receive the same amount of love that she readily gives to you.

You teased her about how she acts more like a mother to you, and she misunderstood and profusely apologized (poor sweetheart). Haru explains that she loves seeing you thrive and be happy, which in turn makes her happy.

It started as an innocent suggestion, but Haru wanted to write love letters to you from time to time. In most instances she would pass it onto you after a date, saying that you should read it when you get home. Other times she would quietly slip it in your bag as a surprise for you to find.

You’ve come to appreciate the craft that Haru puts into the letters. She always chooses the delicate papers, sometimes scented. And other letters had pressed flowers in the envelope. The most precious thing in the letter though was her confessions and affirmations.

Haru lets you choose your date locations since she wants to be more accustomed to city life. You once brought her to a conveyor belt sushi place, and you couldn’t handle the joy in your eyes when you saw her be fascinated about it. “It just moves in little trains! It’s so innovative and cute,” she says.

When you were closer with her, she opened up more about her father to you, even inviting you to visit the shrine dedicated to him in the mansion. That was the first time you saw her cry, and you promised yourself to do your best so you never have to see her like that again.

Romantic petnames suit her well, but she only uses them when you two are alone. Hearing Haru call you “my lily” or “my light” always caught you off-guard no matter how many times you have heard it.

Haru is a compassionate girlfriend! She treats you as delicately as she acts and you know that you’re in good hands with her, as she is with your own.

#persona 5 x reader #persona 5 imagines #ann takamaki #ann takamaki x reader #makoto niijima #makoto niijima x reader #futaba sakura #futaba sakura x reader #haru okumura #haru okumura x reader #persona 5 x you #phantom thieves x reader #nenshcs #request #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAKOTO!! ur the best girl in my heart

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fuwafuwamedb · 3 years

Text

A Game We Play (Caster Gilgamesh/Hakuno)

It was like a game.

“I do not recall such a woman,” he had said when Gudako had introduced her to him, saying that she had been one of his former masters. Gudako had pat her shoulder when Gilgamesh Caster had simply told them that he was busy and wandered off to complete his business. She had figured that was going to be the end of it. Perhaps they would be platonic now.

A shame, since the caster had seemed so much more sensible and mannered than his archerself.

“You should look at me,” the golden haired man purred, his golden gloved hand turning her face to look up at him. Her body was spread out on the bed, body slick with god only new what anymore.

There was a wetness between her legs. Her thighs were trying to press together, only serving to bring the man’s hips closer to her center. Her skin gleamed in the low lights of the room. There was a musk, a potent smell dancing around it now.

The fabrics around them were damp, the ones overhead blocking some of the light from reaching the bed. It felt so terribly small in this room, although it was hard to remember where the room’s doors were anymore. There was only miles of bedding keeping her here, this man’s body serving as steel to keep her caged here.

Her amber gaze met that crimson gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as those eyes dilated.

“That’s a good master,” that honeyed voice purred to her. “Doesn’t it feel good? You must feel grateful, being back in my arms again. What did you tell me before? Say it again, woman.”

The words from before- She had to wrack her brain for them, the man’s grip on her tightening.

“Do not tell me you’ve forgotten-“

“P-please… my king.” Hakuno closed her eyes, trying to gather the strength to make her voice sound clear. The man cocked a brow at her.

“Are you already so exhausted? So soon?”

When had they come in this room, she had to wonder again. Every time she came to, he seemed to be clean again, his hands roaming over her body. Sometimes it was them resting side by side. She somehow was clean, although that feeling felt so far away right now.

“Again, master,” he leaned in, his nose nuzzling into the valley of her breasts. His grip moved to each, fondling as he ran his tongue over her skin. His hips thrust tentatively, leaving her to roll her eyes back and try once more to hold onto thought. The rippling feeling, proud and resilient echoed through her veins, driving her to that place where the world seemed to vanish around them. Those red eyes darkened, those lips turning up as he pulled back, licking his lips and staring into the depths of her soul.

Her lips parted.

Those hips gave another shove, his length delving deeper in.

She couldn’t last.

Her hands clawed at his naked body, clawing at the purple tattoos upon his arms.

“Gil,” Hakuno breathed.

“Tell me what I want to hear, since you are my master,” Gilgamesh purred into her ear, that pace of his quickening, driving her to madness. “You know that you desire to say it. You want to please me back, don’t you, master?”

What was it that he wanted to hear?

What would satisfy him?

“G-Gil,” she pleaded.

Everything was too far gone, the next waves of pleasure overtaking everything. The dark sheets were an endless ocean, the pillows a shore that seemed to be leaving her to sink deeper into these dangerous waters. Everything in the world aside from that was cast away, abandoned until she heard her voice echo out to eternity.

The laughter meeting her ears was unmistakable. The mouth moving over her body again, biting mercilessly, was as unforgiving as these waves of pleasure drowning her.

“We will try again in a while, my master. Perhaps you will realize your place when you awaken next.”

Awaken next?

She couldn’t move enough to see what was happening. Her strength had forsaken her so greatly there was no opening her eyes.

She would awaken another time, walking out of this room.

“How amusing. Do you think me so simple a lover that you could achieve such a feat?”

She would do it.

“Ha. So confident… It is little wonder I gained interest in you.”

Something cold was running over her skin, a pair of lips moving along her chest again. The cold felt so good against the feverish feeling in her body.

“It pleases you to be cleaned? You are lucky I am so generous. Were I more naïve, perhaps an archer, I would have no qualms with simply leaving you to be filthy and used upon my bed. As it is, a lover should be cared for after sexual exploits. You may begin praising me whenever you see fit. I will make note of how well you extol my generosity.”

Same old arrogance.

Same old demands for praise, after all he’d done for his own pleasure.

The cold was gone this time when her body seemed to gain consciousness. Opening her eyes, Hakuno stared unfocused towards the ceiling.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen her, Caster?” Gudako asked.

“To what aim do you think I would seek to acquire by fibbing to you, Gudako?”

“I-I’m not saying you’re lying! I just- We’ve looked everywhere and Archer is growing livid. The other servants said they saw Hakuno heading this way last. You’re the only servant in this wing of Chaldea.”

“So you are assuming that I would be the reason you cannot find someone in this entire building?”

“No! No. Just- Can you help us look? Archer Gilgamesh is about ready to blow half the building apart.”

“Do you desire to watch the two of us fight then? Having the two of us around one another would be asking for competition and war. There can only be one true king in any area at a time, Gudako. To ask multiple to share the same space, to acknowledge and respect one another in an equal manner over the same feats? That is too much. It would be too much in our nature as kings to resist the desire to see who truly deserves the conquests that our name is attributed to.”

“It’s just until we find Hakuno.”

“You desire comes at a cost too great for your people.”

The sound of the door closing could be heard.

The sound of jewelry clinked, the sight of the tussled blond hair being brushed back could be seen as he came slowly into view. That hypnotizing gaze fell to hers, holding the prolonged stare until a small smirk came to his lips.

“You woke up faster this time, master. You are that eager, are you?”

“What was that about?”

The caster’s smile only seemed to remain in place, those eyes narrowing. “Are you listening to conversations that you have no business in? Eavesdropping, as they say?”

A hand came to rest upon her chest. The bed was sinking as the man came in closer.

The sent of ancient pages and foreign blooms tickled at her nose as the man’s lips began a path up her chest.

There was little to do but close her eyes and moan.

“Shall we try again? You have not accepted me as your servant yet.”

“Gil,” she tried again. Gudako had needed him.

“Tell me what I want to hear, master,” the Sumerian king purred once again, nuzzling himself between her breasts again, kneading them as he was all too happy to do each time this began.

It was like a game to him.

An eternity of pleasure, with two very stubborn spirits.

#drabble #drabbles #kinktober prompts from Meddy B

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arahul-abyssia · 4 years

Text

What Lies Out of Sight

No one:

Absolutely no one:

Me: Hmm... I should create a bunch of weird headcanons to try to add continuity to a world that explicitly doesn’t care about such things.

Anyway, this story for @starprincesshlc and @jklantern ’s Nintember event is a bit more of a ‘Lower-Deck Episode’ type, focusing on the sorts of individuals that go unmentioned in the tales we see, those who are passed over without a second thought, but must surely exist if the world were an actual one, fully fleshed out, not just made for a game for playing. This story is also only a little shorter than the length of the last two combined, so, prepare for that, I guess...

~~ Meal, Depths, Ascend, Teamwork, Determination ~~

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I already told you, I’ll be fine!”

None of the other members of his squad ever seemed to want to take risks and branch out. They were perfectly happy to spend their time off lounging at the beaches or the café, or doing whatever other mind-numbing things came to their minds. Kolba preferred to use his free time to see what else the world had to offer, beyond his little hometown and the drudgery of work.

Kamron always seemed to fret about Kolba’s escapades. Even though he came back from each of them just fine, even though he was never late when he returned, even though he had frequently shown that there was nothing to worry about, Kamron refused to let him hear the end of it.

“Y’know, if you’re so worried for my safety, why not come along?”

“Because it’s dangerous, and I’m trying not to put myself in harm’s way when I don’t need to!”

“Well, maybe we’ll be safer together. Strength in numbers, he always says…”

“That hasn’t once worked out for us! No matter what formations we take, those two always chew through us faster than we can blink! And that’s if Karla, Kollen, Kiam, and Kyrra haven’t walked off a cliff, as usual!”

“And ‘those two’ won’t be there, so there’s no problem!”

“That’s not the point!”

Kolba sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know why he continued to argue with Kamron about his plans; neither one ever budged on their positions and no new arguments ever came up. He threw his pack onto his shell, adjusted his boots, and walked out of their quarters into the warm ashy air of Bowser’s Fortress.

He’d give his boss credit where it was due: no matter what the design, every single building in the fortress was great at keeping the smoke and smog out, palace, towers, and barracks alike. It wasn’t absolutely choking, but spending time out in it did eventually make it harder to breathe, and it was typically better to avoid it as much as possible, especially in times such as now, when the volcano below was more active than usual.

Kolba walked down the rocky paths and across the ashy fields, toward the nearest long-range warp pipe, which lay a little beyond one of the cracks in the rocky wall around the volcanic region. He would have much preferred for one to be near the barracks, but given that those who maintained the network, whoever they were, were on Peach’s side, Bowser’s forces weren’t allowed to have one within their walls. And he had heard tell that the reason so few short-range ones existed within the fortress was some disagreement between the pipe maintainers and His Stubbornness himself, though he had no clue what that could be.

As he crossed through the crack, it was as though he had passed a magical barrier, for beyond it the sky was suddenly clear and blue and not a trace of ash wafted in the air. He took a deep breath and then set off down the hill towards the massive red pipe at its base. He always thought it interesting how different long-range pipe travel was from short-range; the smaller pipes were always just big enough to fit comfortably, and your movement remained controlled, while the larger ones, well…

Kolba jumped up onto the rim of the pipe and stared down into the dark pit within. The first time he used it, it was quite daunting, but he had long since gotten used to it. With one final check that he had everything in his pack that he needed, he leaped from his perch into the darkness. After a few seconds, his descent slowed and came to a stop for a split-second, then his body began to rocket upwards, the pipe spitting him out into a small grassy clearing surrounded in part by trees, and the rest by more open fields. He looked around to get his bearings, noting that the pipe he emerged from was smaller than the one near the fortress, though certainly not as small as the pipes typically were. He hopped down and looked around some more. Judging by the grey mist in the area, he was already in a location that was only partially active.

That was one of the aspects of their land that he was never sure if he liked. The Mushroom Kingdom and its surrounding regions had an alarming tendency to shift around, the locations of forests and deserts and mountains and everything else moving elsewhere quite noticeably and often suddenly, taking entirely different names and appearances in the process, and many locations hiding themselves away or appearing out of seemingly nowhere. But if the land did not shift, his off-time pastime could not exist. He loved to explore the areas that had become hidden, their entrances having become barely detectable paths that were far off the usual routes.

One of which should be right… around… here!

In the foliage at the edge of the field was a winding string of rocks about as wide as his finger. He pushed through the plants and began following it closely. In almost no time at all, the grey mists had set in more and he emerged from the bushes into a rocky and craggy location. If he had seen it when it was active, he did not know, but he was sure that it was inactive now; the stones lodged in the sheer cliffs that clearly had been paths up and down them were now greatly displaced from one another, and all the pipes were bent oddly and emerged from the ground or pits at weird angles.

Kamron frequently expressed his concern that Kolba would be caught in an inactive zone when the world shifted and then be unable to find his way back, but he was not concerned at all. He knew that the shifts only ever happened on three occasions--between Bowser’s schemes, between other sorts of crises, and between sporting events--and he made sure to never go exploring when nearing or after the end of any of them. And given that His Surliness was busy planning his next scheme to kidnap the princess (which would no doubt ultimately fail), and the world had shifted only two days ago, he was confident he’d be safe for this excursion.

He began to climb up the cliff in front of him, to see what was beyond it. The hand- and footholds were entirely unusable, but his training in being a Fence-Climbing Koopa allowed him to scale the cliff anyway, albeit with some difficulty. In only a few minutes, he had reached the top and pulled himself up. The clifftop had other cliffs he could climb, but there was also a clear disjointed path of relative flatness, so he chose to follow that.

He would have liked to have seen the views from the crags, but the dense grey fog that marked an area as inactive made that an impossibility. On other adventures of his, there was usually something interesting about the locations he was exploring, or something curious to find, but this place seemed to be nothing but broken rock, sheer cliffs, and weird pipe formations.

Maybe I’ll take a few pictures of the weirdest ones… yeah, that’ll work…

He stopped, pulled his camera out of his pack, and continued onward. While the pipe shapes so far were certainly odd, there were none that he thought particularly picture-worthy. After another several minutes of walking, he decided to flip about and walk backwards for a bit, to see if anything notable popped out where he couldn’t see before, after he made sure the ground before him was relatively straightforward and flat. Walking like this for a few moments, he noticed that his footsteps sometimes seemed to echo about the cliffs, and other times they were practically silenced in the fog.

And then, as if to confirm it, he felt his boot touch something else’s leg as his pack leaned into something similarly squishy. He whipped around to find the telltale mushroomy shape of a Toad doing just the same.

“Oh, hello—”

“Waaaaauuuugggghh! It’s a Koopa Troopa!” The Toad began to flail and scream, as they so often did whenever the Army attacked one of their towns.

“Uh… yes? How are y—”

“G-get away from me! Or I’ll… or I’ll… I’ll make you!”

He brought his arms up to what was probably supposed to be a fighting stance and bent his face into what was likely meant to be a brave and daring glare, but both were quite shoddy attempts.

“Hey now, I may be part of Bowser’s Army, but I’m not here to—”

“Bowser?!” The Toad started yelling even louder and hopping back and forth on his feet, shaking the ground beneath the two, in what could only be described as a dance of panic.

Wait… shaking the ground?

Kolba looked down and saw that the ground around them was cracking from the Toad’s stomping. He reached out his arms and tried to get him to stop, but the Toad seemed too enveloped in his own frenzy to notice anything else in the world.

And then the ground beneath them gave way, revealing the gaping maw of a long-range warp pipe. Kolba turned to get to safety, but the rim of the pipe was too far away and he had already begun falling.

If this was any other pipe, he would have been fine, and could just be sent back up and out once he reached the warp zone. But because this area was inactive, so too was the warp pipe, and so no warping was possible. A panic welled within him, but he took a deep breath and made to recall his training for situations like these. The rhyme for long falls…

Pull in your limbs and tuck in your head, that’s how you don’t end up dead!

And so he did just that, giving himself a slight spin in the process. There was always something comforting about being inside a shell, the walls pressing close, offering a peace wherever one may go, providing protection from basically everything, halting any possible dizziness. To say it was simply ‘nice’ would be to put it far too mildly.

After what was probably around half a minute, he felt his shell bounce on the hard metal at the bottom of the pipe, the spin keeping him from turning in any other directions, and the bouncing stopped, he stuck out his legs to halt the spinning and then fully emerged. It was almost completely dark, the only light being what little made it down from the entrance high above.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then sat down to brainstorm a way out, but his thoughts were interrupted by a strange rhythmic squeaking noise, slowly getting louder and louder. He looked up just in time to have the giant mushroomy head of the Toad hit him in the snout, squeaking even louder. As his unwilling assailant fell face down on the ground, Kolba rubbed the point of impact; though it wasn’t really painful, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either.

The Toad popped up and whipped around. “Gah! You’re here too?! Why?!”

“...Because you broke the ground beneath us…”

“HUH?! How?!”

“...With all your yelling and screaming and stomping. Like that.” Kolba tried not to be overtly rude, but he couldn’t help but let a slight amount of irritation creep into his voice.

His comment, however, seemed to get the Toad to realize what happened and calm down. “...Alright, fine, no, that’s right…” he looked around, likely coming to the same conclusions Kolba did. “So now what? I’m stuck at the bottom of a warp pipe next to a Koopa Troopa with no way out. What did I do to deserve any of this?!”

Now that was just plain rude. “Well, since it seems we won’t be getting out of here anytime soon, you can sit down and quit acting like I’m the worst thing since Bowser’s Hotel Scheme.”

He made to protest, but immediately his eyes seemed to fill with sudden realization. There was a moment’s pause, then he took a deep breath and plastered a weird smile, somehow both entirely genuine and entirely forced, onto his face. “I’m sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Hi! My name’s Jol, as in Jol T. I’m from the town of Shroomvale.”

Now that was better. Kolba plastered on his own mostly-real smile. “Hello, I’m Kolba, Kolba Koopa. I’m part of the Koopa Troop in Bowser’s Army. Pleased to meet you!”

Kolba stuck out his hand for Jol to shake. He hesitated at first, but then grabbed onto it and quickly shook it. His face seemed to relax in relief. “Oh, good! I thought that might’ve hurt…”

This comment came as a surprise to Kolba. “How exactly would a handshake hurt you?”

Jol seemed to fidget back and forth, realizing what he said, then stumbled about for an answer, saying nothing that Kolba could find meaning in besides what was probably a sort of backpedaling. Eventually, he interrupted, tired of the pointless blubbering.

“Look, it seems like you have some… ‘conceptions’ about me that are preventing us from talking like two normal individuals. So, if you would, please tell me what the problem is so we can work things out. I am all ears.”

The Toad stared at Kolba, with some mixture of confusion and shock, then sighed and began to formulate his words properly. “It’s just… after all the attacks by Bowser on Peach’s Castle, and all the Mario Brothers’ adventures to stop him, rumors start going around, y’know? That the members of Bowser’s Army will stop at nothing to help him, that they coat themselves with something that makes those aligned with Peach unable to normally touch them without getting hurt, that they are imbued with an evil magic that makes their every move serve some purpose of Bowser’s. And now that I say it out loud, to you, it sounds completely insane! But… when so many around you say something, it kinda affects how you think, y’know?”

Kolba closed his eyes and thought. He knew that rumors spread about the Troop, but he had no idea that some were like this. A part of him wanted to feel insulted, but he then suddenly realized that his own societies had similar misgivings.

“Well, some of us aren’t too much better. For a time, I was convinced that all Toads, save for a select few that I could count on one hand, were complete cowards who couldn’t do anything to try to save themselves from danger.”

“Oh? What changed your mind?”

“Met a decent handful over the years who attempted to fight off our attacks. I don’t think it ever worked, but I admired the thought, and felt bad that our assaults succeeded in spite of their efforts.”

Jol nodded, something seeming to give him pause. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again. “So, if you feel bad seeing the destruction Bowser’s Army causes, why do you still work for him?”

Kolba sighed. “It’s… a living. Obnoxious as Bowser and his direct lackeys can be, there’s a lot that’s provided free of charge, and I’ve met some good friends there. I know the attacks can be difficult, but I’d like to think that we make up for it and then some when the Mushroom Kingdom counters, which, more often than not, consists of a thorough defeat from Mario and Luigi.”

At this, Jol snickered. “Y’know, that’s honestly perfectly fair! Exactly how many times have you had to respawn due to them?”

“Oh, I’ve lost track at this point… I think I’m up to, like, fifty separate times or so?”

“Really?! Fifty times you’ve been trounced by one of their boots?”

“Or hit by a fireball, or punched in the face, or used to destroy brick blocks and then hurtled into a pit, yeah… you get used to it after a while, comes with the territory and all…”

“That’s… okay, fine, that’s honestly impressive that you’re able to put up with all that…” he paused for a moment. “Y’know, I’ve honestly never realized just how much you guys go through as well, having to serve Bowser and all. No offense, of course, the thought just never crossed my mind.”

“Eh, none taken. Though I am curious: how did you know I was a member of Bowser’s Army? Surely you don’t think every single Koopa is aligned with him?”

“Of course not! I actually have several good friends in Koloburg who are Koopas. It’s just… I guess I can just sort of ‘tell’? I don’t know what it is, there doesn't seem to be any specific visual difference, but unless someone’s in disguise, I just know who’s going to be friendly and who’s going to be hostile. …Or, would be hostile under typical circumstances, I suppose…”

“Oh, then it’s just like us! We can tell which other individuals are aligned with us and which aren’t. I guess that’s a universal thing…!”

Another brief bout of silence, then: “So… we really only get to see Bowser being the attacker… what’s he like when you’re working for him?”

“Not much better, I’d say. His Grouchiness is impatient, petulant, and pretty much impossible to please. It’s not like he mistreats us, but I think he could stand to be a little more grateful if he’s going to keep pulling these schemes to kidnap the princess. ...If you ever get the chance, don’t tell him I said any of that.”

“No worries! Why does he keep doing that anyway, if it never works out? Like, at all?”

Kolba smiled and dropped his voice to a conspiratory whisper. It wasn’t necessary, of course, but the tone would make all the more impactful. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there are rumors going around that it’s not actually Peach that he wants; they think he’s doing this to get Mario’s attention, but he doesn’t actually know how to do that… well, like a normal person. There are a couple of holes in the idea, but it certainly would make the whole situation a lot more interesting, right?”

“But didn’t he rob several other Kingdoms and throw a wedding on the Moon just to try to marry Peach, like, only a few months ago?”

“Like I said, there are a few holes. Some think Peach might be in on it all, but that’s even more flimsy… still though.”

Jol sat for a moment in thought, then shrugged and giggled. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d be at all surprised if it turned out that nearly every crisis in our kingdom was the result of the world’s most dangerous love triangle.”

“Right?! Anyway…”

The wall between them had finally been broken and taken down. For some time after that the two talked about all manners of things, laughing and joking as though they had always been friends. Eventually, however, the conversation did indeed once more die down.

Kolba stood up, Jol following suit. “So, fun as this has been, I think it’s high time we get out of here. Any ideas?”

“Oh, I completely forgot where we were… uh, hm… rope obviously wouldn’t work, and we can’t wall kick like the Bros…”

“Yeah… although…” An idea was rapidly forming in Kolba’s mind. It wasn’t guaranteed to work, but it was the best idea he had.

“Huh? What is it?”

“You know how the Brothers occasionally use this move where one stands on the other and they spin through the air?”

“Y’mean their Spin Jump? Yeah, I think I’ve seen it.”

“If we imitate it in here, if we can move the air around enough, it might provide us with enough lift to get us out of the pipe.”

“Huh… I mean, it’s worth a shot…”

“Right! Grab your bag and hop on!”

With haste, Jol leaped onto Kolba’s head, which he had to retract a bit to be able to properly grip the Toad’s feet. On his mark, the two began spinning clockwise, jumping more and more frequently, and in little time at all, they felt their jumps being boosted by the air flow. Though it was beginning to dizzy them, they kept at it, each jump and twirl bringing them slightly higher.

And then, Kolba’s feet did not reach the ground, and with a quite similar sensation to exiting a functioning warp pipe, the two shot upwards, reaching the top of the tube in about as much time as it took them to fall to its bottom. The change in space outside caused them to lose their rhythm, and the two shot off in opposite directions, each hurtling pack-first into a cliffside. Both took several seconds to catch their breath and balance, then stood.

“Yeah!! Your idea worked! Nice job!” Jol ran to Kolba and proceeded to vigorously shake his hand with both of his own. Kolba returned the gesture with far less excitement.

“I’m… honestly a bit surprised, but yeah, we’re out now! ...Should we do something about the pipe?”

Both turned and looked at the maw of where they were trapped only minutes ago, the last gusts of the wind they created dissipating into the fog.

“Nah, it’ll fix itself eventually. So, what are you going to do next?”

“I dunno about you, but I think I’ve had quite enough adventure for one day. I’m gonna head back to active places, maybe get something refreshing from a café in a simple grassy region. ...Ya wanna join me?”

Kolba thought for a moment, then grinned. “You know what? I think I will.”

And with not another word, the two began their return treks together through the grey mists.

#super mario series #nintember #super mario bros.#my writing

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nazyalenskyism · 4 years

Text

Can’t Fall in Love Tonight

A/N: A modern Zoyalai AU, Nikolai is a politician and Zoya is his manager.

Ao3 Link: Can’t Fall in Love Tonight

You can find Chapter One of ‘Can’t Fall in Love Tonight’ under the cut, enjoy! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

“That’s unacceptable and you know it, don’t you?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

Zoya resisted the urge to roll her eyes, dear lord, each new batch of interns was worse than the last. They had no backbone whatsoever, and when did it become part of her job to help them develop one? “So, if you know the criteria for all reports submitted to me, why didn’t you check with your supervisor that it had been done correctly? Why would you bring it to me without being sure?”

“I-- I’m so sorry Ms.Nazyalensky, it won’t happen again.”

She nodded curtly, “see to it that it doesn’t. We run a big campaign, and we can’t afford to have little things like this slow down the cogs of the machine. Double check all the requirements next time, because if you don't, there won't be any more chances, nor will you ever find a job with any political campaign again.” The kid, Paul-- no--Patrick, stared at her, his mouth wobbling, trying to find a reply. She’d given him another chance, why was he still standing there, acting like she’d already fired him? She opened her mouth, about to tell him to run back to his station when she noticed glinting gold out of the corner of her eye. Fantastic. The gallant hero riding in to save the poor intern from the stormy harpy. She knew the names they called her, and she didn't care in the least. There was a reason she had her job, and that was because she was the best, not because she was the nicest.

“What Nazyalenksy means to say is that we constantly have to be updated with new incoming information that the format that you learned on your first day was created to save as much time as possible while conveying the information easily. Each individual on the staff has a significant role to play, something that seems as trivial as a document’s format has a big impact on the entire campaign. Your job is as important as mine, Pavel.”

A hand clapped down on the young man’s shoulder as he replied, “really?” in an awed voice, mouth agape. Zoya fought to keep her composure again, these interns were always ready to bow down in front of their boss as if he were a king and they were mere subjects. A few words from Nikolai, a charming smile thrown their way and they were basically genuflecting.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, I suppose. I do have to stand around and look dashing, the most difficult of my daily tasks,” the man said good-naturedly. This was typical Nikolai, when he was in front of the lower level employees, he was a commanding and kind boss. When he was before his biggest donors, he was a charming young man, telling lively stories about his time in university, his world adventures, how he’d sailed around the world in two years, anything that would ensure their support. Pavel stood rooted to the spot, this was clearly the first encounter he’d had with the Nikolai Lantsov, and he looked like he was close to passing out.

“Run along now, Peter, and remember what I said.” The boy hurried away, too scared to tell her she’d called him by the wrong name, turning his head back to catch one last glimpse at Nikolai, paling as Nikolai raised a hand waving goodbye.

“His name was Pavel, and you didn’t have to instill the fear of Zoya into him for his mistake,” Nikolai said, turning his head towards her.

Zoya shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, “now he’ll never make the same mistake again. Where are we finding these new recruits, I swear we weren’t this incompetent when we did this.”

“You, incompetent? Those words don’t belong together in a sentence at all.”

“What about, Zoya’s unparalled talents save her incompetent candidate, Nikolai Lantsov from defeat yet again?” At that, Zoya saw slight tension creep into Nikolai’s stance. She sighed, they really couldn’t go more than an hour without yet another issue springing up, could they?

“Perhaps that isn’t the most fitting phrase,” Nikolai said, tone shifting from easy and relaxed to all business. “Let’s talk in my office.” As he led the way down the hall of their headquarters, Zoya saw people stick their heads out of doorways to catch a glimpse of the golden boy, eyes wide, mouths agape. Zoya didn’t miss the looks towards her as well. Regularly she was their hard-ass superior who tolerated nothing less than perfection, but whenever their staff saw her go into a room alone with Nikolai, they got ideas that only added to the small, but ridiculous rumours that they were ‘a thing.’ She couldn’t care less, her job was to be his campaign manager during election season, and Chief of Staff otherwise— and so nearly half of her time was spent with Nikolai, heads bent over desks, trying to solve whatever new problem they encountered. Long after everyone had wrapped for the day, they would still be at the office, or retreat to Nikolai’s lavish apartment to continue working. She always went home after these late-night sessions, and nothing remotely scandalous had ever happened between her and Nikolai, but the rumors didn’t seem to care about facts. They were close, they always had been. She wasn’t about to act differently because of a small rumour. Unless their actions would negatively impact Nikolai’s image, she didn’t care. Still, Zoya swept the hallway with a cool glare, she was still their superior, and they didn’t have time to waste watching a man walk down the hall.

By the time Zoya reached the end of the hall, Nikolai was gallantly holding the door open for her, and quickly shut it behind her. She didn’t particularly care for his office, it felt like a watered down, more palatable version of his home office, which was much more eclectic, filled with his personal hard-won treasures, not just that which looked the most interesting and professional. But she supposed, if anyone understood the importance of presentation, it was her. Her blue silk blouse with its delicate silver pearl buttons was paired with a sleek black skirt, and her usual heels were polished to perfection, not unlike Nikolai’s shining black Oxfords. “So, what is it?”

“Zoya. It’s... It’s…” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she froze, she hadn’t seen him this phased about something in a long, long time. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

“Just spit it out Nikolai, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

“We have reason to believe that Demidov has a new Campaign Manager.”

Zoya felt her brows draw together, “that can’t be the whole of it, who is it Lantsov?” Nikolai looked at her pointedly and Zoya understood immediately, “no. No. No. Way. In. Hell.” She felt pure hatred course through her veins. ‘Any other problem, we could deal with-- any other problem than this. Why did it have to be this?’ She drew in a deep breath. She had been preparing to face him again for years. Not just to face him, but to beat him at his own game, and she knew that she could. She had learned a lot, grown, and become a force to be reckoned with. She was ready to beat him, and this time, she would.

“Right then, what do you want our next move to be?”

Nikolai looked up at her, his brows furrowed, she was almost sure that he was going to ask her if she was alright, which was the last thing she needed to hear right now. Instead, he shook his head slightly, clearing his face of all concern before drawing out files from his desk drawer. “We have to figure out their strategy. But before that, we have to tell the team. Demidov is definitely bringing his new manager to the charity ball tonight which means we’re all going to have to play nice.”

Zoya snorted, “you can play nice Nikolai, I’ll be doing just the opposite.”

“Zoya,” he caught her wrist as she turned to stand. “All of us hate him, but we can’t do anything in public today. I promise that we will find a way to get rid of him forever, but we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize future plans today, is that clear?”

Her chest heaved, it had taken everything in herself not to let go and scream when she’d realized who Nikolai was alluding to, but she didn’t know if she could manage to do this-- to go through a 6 hour fundraiser while ‘playing nice’ with the man who had ruined all their lives. But she had a job, and that was to carry them through this election, to have Nikolai’s back, to ensure that they did what they could for the people they promised to serve, and she would not let him be the reason she didn’t fulfill her duties. She pursed her lips, nodding at Nikolai, “I won’t do anything to mess things up, but I sure as hell won’t be playing ‘nice’.”

“I would expect nothing less of you,” Nikolai said with a genuine smile, tugging gently at her wrist, “if I wanted someone who would ‘play nice’ I wouldn’t have started working with you eight years ago.”

“You didn’t start working with me, Lantsov, I started working with you. Without my intervention, you would still be in local politics.”

“Semantics dear Zoya. If I hadn’t approached you in the law library, we would have never met.”

“That’s wrong and you know it. We would’ve met when I ran for the head of the student body and beat you for the presidency. I would’ve loved to see you defeated by me. It’s fine, I guess watching you lose board game night every Friday for the last eight years is good enough.” She sat down, her wrist still in Nikolai’s grasp.

“I don’t lose every time,” Nikolai frowned childishly, and Zoya had to suppress a laugh, she knew he was trying to up her spirits before they had to relay the bad news to the others. “I always win the strategic games, like chess but you unfairly banned them.”

Zoya leaned in, cocking her head at him, “we can’t all be boring like you Lantsov. What’s the point of a game night if half the group falls asleep by 9 PM?”

Nikolai leaned in as well, “it’s not my fault none of you are worthy competitors, if you--” he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, causing Zoya to pull away sharply, yanking her wrist from him. Nikolai shot her an unreadable look before inhaling deeply, “yes?”

“Mister Lantsov, I have Ms. Safin, Mr. Kostyk, Mr. Yul-Bataar and Ms. Kir-Bataar here, like you asked.”

Nikolai and Zoya shared a look, this was it then. “Let them in.”

***

“Zoya, come on, we’re going to be late unless we leave right now,” Nikolai glanced at his watch, the charity event started in 40 minutes and with the traffic it would definitely take them at least half an hour to get there.

“I’m coming!” Zoya’s voice drifted down from the upstairs floor of his apartment. Zoya lived in a cozy apartment in Hell’s Kitchen that she had shared with Genya and Tamar, but when Tamar had started getting serious with Nadia, she’d moved in with the girl and they’d gotten married shortly after. Now, Genya and David were newly engaged, which meant that David was always over, and so Zoya was spending more time at his place, because as she liked to say, “if I have to sit through one more dinner where it’s just the two of them goggling at each other the entire night, I’ll take out their eyes myself.” After they’d broken the news to the rest of their inner circle, Zoya had asked if she could get ready at his apartment, and when he’d said yes, had gone home immediately to grab her things. He knew she felt unreasonably guilty, that she felt like she’d betrayed her friends by allowing Demidov to hire him, even though she’d had no way to stop it from happening. He knew she didn’t want to have to face Genya alone immediately after they had told her, and he knew that was why she’d sought refuge in his apartment for a few hours before the party. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t change the past, only work with him to better things in the future, but these were things she already knew, and she relied on him to help her to move forward, not tell her what she already knew.

Nikolai looked at his watch again, now they were actually about to be late, “Time to go! Where are you Zo—” Nikolai felt his breath skip. While he’d been distracted, Zoya had begun to descend the stairs, looking ethereal in a silky emerald green dress, her hair loose, tumbling in ink black waves over her shoulders. He felt a bit like a school boy, his breath quite literally knocked from his chest for a moment. Teardrop emeralds hung from her ears, and matching clips held back portions of her hair. He thought Zoya in her favoured blue had been difficult to resist, but Zoya in green was a sight to behold on its own. Had he not been practiced in restraining himself from her beauty, he was sure he would’ve trailed behind her the whole night like a forlorn puppy. “I’m ready, I’m ready!” She called, hurrying to the door to slip on her heels for the night. “Hold this,” she grumbled, smacking her clutch into his chest as she breezed by him.

“Ouch, you know you could be more gent--”he broke off, nearly gaping. Backless. Her dress was backless. Nikolai looked up to the heavens, it seemed less and less likely that he was going to survive tonight. He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could focus on their task for the night, although he didn’t know how he was supposed to focus on anything else when his Chief of Staff was looking like that. He sighed audibly and Zoya’s head snapped towards him as they slipped out the door.

“What, you’re not looking forward to tonight?”

“No. I am.”

“What is it then?”

“I’m just thinking about how you’ve out-dressed me again. People are going to start thinking I have no sense of style if you keep upstaging me like his,” he replied, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes, “you’re not used to it yet, Lantsov? I’ve always been better dressed and better-looking. Maybe it’s time you up your game.”

“Oh,” he clutched his chest in mock despair, “how you wound me.” Zoya snorted at him before flouncing towards the elevator. He stared after her, he definitely would never get used to this.

***

They’d sat through the initial speeches, the extravagant dinner with its ridiculously small portions and now the dance floor had opened up and yet, they’d yet to see Demidov or the newest addition to his staff. Nikolai had convinced Zoya to dance after she’d spent the better part of the evening making sure Genya was okay, and that Nikolai spoke to all the people they needed to secure as donors, and charmed everyone who came within 5 feet of him. Now, finally he’d been granted a short reprieve in the form of a dance with his favourite harpy.

Zoya felt her pulse thrumming, her adrenaline had been high all night, and she just wanted the night to be over, the anticipation was tugging at her relentlessly. She’d agreed to a dance with Nikolai, and he looked especially the part of a prince tonight. She had to admit to that she’d had a moment of speechlessness when she’d seen him at the bottom of the stairs, the midnight black of his suit a stark contrast to his golden locks, and the gold tie pin and cufflinks he adorned highlighted the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. It was good that he looked handsome tonight, from a professional standpoint only, of course, people responded to beauty, they both knew that. She’d been around Nikolai, been his closest friend for long enough that she had made herself immune to his charms and looks. Still, she fought shivers when he placed her hand in his, the other sitting on the small of her back as he led her into a flawless waltz. As they began to gently sway to the soft string music, Zoya’s mind turned back to the issue at hand.

“Do you see him?”

“No. He’s probably waiting to make a dramatic entrance.”

“Is that what you would do?”

Nikolai hesitated,“I would never be in his position.”

“You’re right. I just wish we knew what game he was playing. Or when he’d show up.” They passed a few moments in silence, both of them drawing closer together, content in the moment, until Nikolai saw a commotion out of the corner of his eye.

“I think your wish has been answered, Zoya dear.” Her head jolted upright just as the song ended. There, at the grand doors of the ballroom, was Demidov, looking the part as usual, and next to him stood a man dressed entirely in black.

“Here we go,” Nikolai murmured. Zoya took his arm with one hand and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray in the other as they crossed the floor towards the men. Nikolai found David and Tolya’s eyes from across the room and gestured towards the ballroom door. They both nodded and Nikolai watched as they found Genya, Tamar and Nadia. Good, it was best that they all got out of here. Knowing the man, he would try to goad them with mentions of their friends, and Nikolai was not in the mood tonight.

“Mr. Lantsov,” Demidov greeted them cheerfully, clasping Nikolai’s hand in a friendly handshake. “The always radiant Ms. Nazyalenksy,” he smiled, pressing his lips to her knuckles, not seeing the dangerous fire simmering behind her eyes. Only her true friends would ever be able to see how irritated she was by a man she deemed as, ‘having a backbone made of butterscotch pudding.’ He wasn’t fully aware what that meant, but Genya, Nadia and Tolya had agreed serenely when she’d first said it, so he supposed it must make sense.

“Please, allow me to introduce you to my new campaign manager! This is--”

“Aleks!” Nikolai exclaimed jovially, not missing the laugh in Zoya’s eyes. “My goodness, it’s been so long.”

“You know each other?” Demidov said.

“Oh yes, way back in my university days, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear that story, it’s far too long and features several ballads dedicated to my brilliance. It’s rather a production.”

“I prefer to go by ‘The Darkling’,” Aleksander interjected coolly, inclining his head at Nikolai in acknowledgement, and resting his eyes on Zoya.

“Oh,” Zoya started, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing any true emotion on her face. She brought a finger to her chin in mock-contemplation, though no one other than Nikolai and the Darkling would know it. “That’s a strange name, is it French?”

“No, no. Zoya, I speak French, and whatever it is, it’s not French. Maybe it’s Russian?” Nikolai returned, looking thoughtful. Saints, he was a frighteningly good actor.

She shrugged, “funny, I’m fluent and I've never heard that before.”

“Is it not English, Aleksander?” Demidov questioned, clearly puzzled.

The Darkling ignored them all. Instead he turned to Zoya, “Ms. Nazyalenksy, would you honour me with a dance?”

“No.” Zoya enunciated clearly, looking directly at him. Nikolai laid a hand on her arm, a small reminder of their larger plan. His phone buzzed in his lapel pocket, and he glanced at it quickly, a message from Tamar, perfectly on time.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have to take this,” Nikolai said holding up his phone, placing his hand on Zoya’s back, letting her know they were escaping this situation. Demidov nodded a goodbye as Zoya took a final sip from her glass.

“It was so nice to meet you, Alexi!” she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, clearly dismissing him as if she were a queen and he were a mere peasant.

“Goodnight, enjoy the festivities Aleks,” Nikolai added, nothing but a polite smile on his face as they turned and started towards a sheltered alcove in the corner of the room.

***

Zoya paced back and forth, “I hate everything about this— how could anyone even think to hire him after what he did?” Nikolai frowned, there was a note of desperation in her voice, very unlike Zoya. He knew the crimes of the man as well as the rest of his inner circle, they had all been directly impacted by him, but he knew that Zoya had never forgiven herself for being young, taken in by his seemingly perfect ideology and being unable to see the rot that lay beneath it all. Others who were older, and arguably wiser had been fooled just as easily as they all had, yet Zoya wouldn’t forgive herself, she held herself to a higher standard, he knew what that was like better than anyone else. The reason he’d told her before he’d broken the news to the rest of his staff was because of this, he knew that neither him nor Zoya would ever let that man inflict anymore hurt upon their friends.

“He did a lot to bury his crimes, only a few people truly know what happened. The general public views them as allegations, not definitive crimes.”

“Why? They’ve seen the evidence.” Zoya snapped, “they can see it every day.” He could see that she was a tightly wound coil after the news and that she needed a distraction.

“Shall we share another dance?”

“What?” she snapped, “Nikolai, I’m not in the mood.”

“Whatever you say, Nazyalensky, but if you don’t dance with me, I’m 98% sure he’s going to ask you to dance next,” he said nodding towards Kirigin, one of many men who constantly trailed them at functions like this in an attempt to catch Zoya’s attention for a second.

“Oh god, my options are you and Kirigin?” Zoya rubbed her temples, as much as she wanted to go home and finish a bottle of wine on her own, she knew they had to stay until the party was over. “Fine. Lead the way Lantsov, but I will be stepping on your toes.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, my ruthless Zoya.”

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai #tgt fanfic #kos fanfic #zoyalai au #nikolai x zoya #the grishaverse #king of scars au #zoyalai fic #my written works #idiots to lovers #im a zoyalai stan first human second #mentions of: genya safin #mentions of: david kostyk #mentions of: tolya yul-bataar #mentions of: tamar kir-bataar

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

Text

L.A Devotee

chapters: 5 of 10 word count: 2,536 pairing: eddie kaspbrak & richie tozier (reddie) summary: child actor Richie Tozier was raised in The Industry, he knows how to play the game. He knows exactly how to keep his head down, and make his way through the famous life without attracting any extra drama. Until his management branch takes an up incoming band under their wing, and enlist Richie to publicly date the lead singer, and that all falls to shit.

Chapter Warnings: mild notsfw Read on AO3.

“You can’t keep behaving like this, Richard.” Kay McCall told him, pulling out the deepest of in-charge voices. Richie just started back up at her, knowing exactly how he looked. The deep bags under his eyes, the blotchiness of his skin. The blank expression. But he couldn’t be bothered to give her anything to work with. Not this Kay.

She seemed to realize it, too. She gave a sigh and came around to his side of the desk, kneeling in front of him. “Rich, I’m serious. If you don’t clean yourself up, they’re going to drop you from this branch.”

Richie tried to force himself to look at Kay. “I don’t really give a fuck what they do.”

“You okay?” Eddie broke through Richie’s revolving memories, rolling over in the bed and pressing his bare body against Richie’s equally naked one. Richie got the same tickle in his throat that he always got whenever Eddie Kaspbrak seemed to express genuine concern about him, unable to help himself from thinking that it was wrong for it to exist in this situation.

They weren’t anything to each other. Just two dudes being forced to date each other publicly, and were maybe getting their rocks off together once a day for the last couple of weeks Sometimes more than once a day. There was the one day of the seven times and well... Richie’s skin grew hot just thinking about it.

Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hips and rolled them so Eddie was pressed on top of him, pushing up at press open mouthed kisses to Eddie’s neck. Eddie sighed happily, and rutted down against Richie. It was something that Richie had been more than thrilled to learn once this whole thing had started; Eddie got hard so damn fast. Sometimes Richie had to shoot him a certain look, and he could see Eddie starting to squirm.

But another thing about him, a much less enjoyable thing for Richie, was his one track mind. Eddie Kaspbrak was not a person easily distracted, even while rapidly growing hard against Richie’s thigh. “What are you thinking about, Richie?”

And that fucking question. Eddie asked that question too much. Tried to get into Richie’s head too much. Sometimes it was like he was already in there, without permission, with the little knowing and worried looks that Richie would see on his face whenever Richie did some things. Like he knew that Richie was beginning to dwell on something, or still dwelling on it, and that wasn’t talking about it.

It was too boyfriendly, too intimate. Richie Tozier didn’t get intimate. It went against his brand.

“Hmmmm, nothing,” Richie hummed, trailing his lips up to meets Eddie’s, nipping at Eddie’s bottom lip and pulling it with his teeth.

Eddie let out a groan, hands coming up to tangle into Richie’s curls, as he kissed Richie back with everything he could. As he Richie brought a hand down to cup at Eddie’s ass, he knew that the conversation wasn’t over or forgotten, but he’d managed to post-pone it at least for a little while.

It wasn’t any of Eddie’s business anyway, he told himself through the feeling that if Eddie didn’t stop asking- then Richie was going to tell him. And that just couldn’t happen.

Just as Richie was getting into it for real, his own cock starting to stiffen, the alarm on his phone rang through the room. Groaning in a completely unsexy way, Richie pulled away from Eddie’s chest and grabbed at the ringing device to silence it.

“We have to get going.” Richie grumbled, rolling out of the bed and stretching. Eddie’s eyes trailing over his body, mouth half agape, and Richie grinned cockily. One of his favourite things about Eddie was that he always looked at him naked like he was seeing it for the very first time.

“Right now?” Eddie asked a voice that greatly resembled Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. “Can’t we like... snooze it for half an hour?”

Richie laughed a little breathlessly, holding a hand out to help Eddie off the bed. “It’s cute that you think I set the alarm even one minute earlier than I absolutely needed to. Let alone thirty.” Eddie pouted- actually pouted- and Richie gave another laugh and he heaved him to his feet. “Come on, Eds. You can wear one of my shirts for the camera and just spend the whole time thinking about how good I’m going to fuck you when we get back here tonight.”

The words certainly didn’t have the desired effect on Eddie that Richie had been going for. Rather than the little whine Richie had hoped to hear, he just got a look of wide eyes and surprise. “Am I... Am I coming back here tonight?”

Richie faltered. Eddie had stayed at his place for the last three nights at least, and it truthfully hadn’t occurred to Richie that Eddie might not be coming back with him. “I mean... you don’t have to, I just sort of thought...”

Eddie had started putting his clothes in the top drawer of Richie’s dresser. He had a tooth brush and mouth wash in the bathroom. Audra had started adding Eddie’s cereal and yogurt brands of choice fruits to the grocery list. It hadn’t been things Richie had noticed happening, but now it was suddenly staring him in the face and he was starting to sweat.

“But if you want to go home,” Richie said, maybe not even meaning to emphasize that this wasn’t Eddie’s home. “That makes sense. I can see why you’d be homesick. Missing your boys.”

Eddie shrugged one shoulder, grabbing Richie’s Nirvana shirt from the top of the dresser where Richie had discarded it the night before rather quickly. It was one of the shirts that Eddie complained about Richie wearing too often, but Richie could see the way Eddie’s eyes would darken every time he saw it. And it looked enough like Eddie’s new wardrobe that the fan girls on the Internet would be able to argue on whether or not it belonged to Richie. Eddie was, without a doubt, getting better at this publicity thing.

“I don’t think my band mates are really talking to me right now.” Eddie admitted, sounding small and kind of pathetic. Something Richie definitely had taken notice of in past week or so, was that Eddie had stopped calling the other members of his band his “friends”, and started referring to them only as his bandmates. Richie wondered for the hundredth time if his management branch was putting at lot of stake into a sinking ship. “So, if you’re okay with me coming back here, I’d uh... love to stay over again.”

“You’re always welcome here, Eddie.” Richie said, and hated himself for how true it was turning out to be. His first impressions of Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t been wrong per say, but Richie found that his correct assumptions weren’t so terrible. Eddie had passion, no doubt about that. He cared about things, in a fierce way that made Richie a little apprehensive. The world hadn’t broken Eddie’s spirit yet, and he’d known that from the first time he’d set eyes on him. But unlike when he’d first met Eddie, it no longer made him interested in seeing it happen... it made him want to try to make sure it never did.

A loud banging on the bedroom door broke through Richie’s troubling bubbles of thought. “Hey Richard! Get your dick out of Eddie and get ready! We needed to be ready five minutes ago, you fucking nasty!”

Eddie burst out laughing, smacking his hands over his face as Richie jumped into a pair of black jeans. “Fuck off, Phillips!” Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Eddie was decent, he threw the bedroom door open. “Look. We’re ready. Not a dick in sight.”

“Oh, I see a dick.” Audra said, looking pointedly at Richie’s face while Eddie continued to giggle in the background. “Richie, you’re not even wearing a shirt!”

“This is my new look.” Richie said, with a blank expression and serious voice. “Figured I can’t get bad reviews on my fashion sense if I don’t wear any clothes.”

“It is an improvement,” Eddie said, switching the flip in his head that takes him right out of the soft Eddie that Richie fell into bed with. Getting right back into the all-salt-no-sugar Kaspbrak act that Richie had met in Kay’s office two months ago. “Though not much of one.”

Audra rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. And if you guys are looking for publicity on your relationship, Richie walking around bare chested like that is definitely going to do it.”

Eddie looked at Richie full on as Richie glanced down at himself, both making a similiar squawking-laugh noise, Eddie covering his face back up again and laughing behind his hands. They’d both forgotten about Eddie determination to prove that he could fit his initials in hickies over Richie’s chest until that moment.

“Hey.” Richie shrugged, trying to act through the embarrassment burning on his cheeks. “At least there will be no question of who left them to spark cheating rumours.”

“Put a shirt on, Dickard. And let’s go.”

Before they got out of the car in front of their management office, Richie immediately reached out and tangled his hand with Eddie’s. Eddie turned to him quickly, eyes wide and confused. “There’s always cameras.” Richie said seriously, trying not to frown too deeply. “Even when you don’t think there’s cameras... there’s cameras.”

“Google Earth,” Eddie joked, sounding breathless and overwhelmed. “Always taking pictures.”

Richie smiled sadly at him, rubbing at the back of Eddie’s hand with his thumb. They got out of the car, Richie and Eddie hand-in-hand and they walk towards the building without sharing a word. Without looking around.

Richie could feel Stan glaring at them when they got into the meeting room, but whether the glare was directed at him or at Eddie- Richie couldn’t be sure. Once they were in the room, surrounded only by people who knew their relationship was fake, Eddie let go of Richie and moved across the room to talk to Mike.

Richie tried not to look like a dog who had been left at home while his owner went out when he moved to take his sit. But, since he was the only person sitting, he supposed that didn’t work. Until Stan sat down beside him, of course.

“Are you guys fucking?” Stan asked him, the fact that it was under his breath not stopping it from sounding so goddamn loud in Richie’s head.

“No,” Richie lied immediately.

“Good.” Stan said, single word sounding like a threat. "Eddie doesn’t need to lose his virginity to some millionaire dude bro who doesn’t care about him.”

“I-” Richie choked on nothing when he began to feel like the world was collapsing around him again. He turned slowly, finding Eddie in the room and saw that Eddie was already looking at him. At him and Stan, glancing between them with a look of fear in his eyes. Like a deer in front of oncoming traffic in the middle of the night.

“Okay, guys.” The woman in the black suit at the front of the room called them all to attention. She had long since mastered the look of wanting to be somewhere else, no matter where she was or what she was doing. Richie resented being in the same room as her. “We’re going to keep this short. Your guys’ single is doing great, your album is set to drop next week so we don’t really see a need to keep this whole thing going on. Eddie, Richie, your officially free from your contracted relationship.”

Eddie was trying to find Richie’s eyes from across the table, but Richie firmly avoided it. “And how are we doing it? Some big public fight?”

The woman shook her head. “Oh no. No need for all that. We already have a story of you cheated ready to leak Richie. It’ll boost up the band’s album sales greatly, everybody feeling so bad for Edward. Innocent boy done wrong by an experienced actor, it’ll be great for his reputation.”

“What about Richie’s reputation?” Eddie asked, sounding small and nervous. Richie hand twitched, wanting to reach out for him but he couldn’t. Couldn’t with Eddie so far away, and wouldn’t with all the people in the room.

“She doesn’t care about my reputation. Never has.” Richie said, staring her down. He could feel the eyes in the room being trained on him, and he raised his brow. “Right, Mom?”

He could just barely see the way Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Any publicity is good publicity, Richard.” Maggie Tozier said with a stern look. “God knows you could use something to work with. Doing films with William Denbrough isn’t going to skate you by for the rest of your life. Give people a reason to know your name.”

“Even if it’s a terrible reason?” Stanley challenged her, showing bigger balls than even Richie had himself.

“All the best names are known for terrible reasons.” Maggie said, picking up the papers from the table and nodding around the room. “That’s all we needed you for today, I already talked to the band about their own things earlier so-”

“Wait, I wasn’t here.” Eddie said, sounding lost. “What things?”

“Oh, Edward,” Maggie said in a drippingly sweet voice. “You don’t need to worry about any of those behind the scenes things. Just go out there and look cute, let the professionals and musicians take care of everything else.”

Eddie looked ready to keep arguing, but Maggie and her underlings were already heading out the door. Kay gave Richie an apologetic look on her way out, that Richie made a point to return with a blank glare. The band all stood up, while Eddie remained looking shell shock and sad in his seat.

Ben seemed to hesitate towards going to Eddie, but Stan put an arm around Ben and lead him out the door. Mike dropped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed before following the couple out the door.

Eddie’s face crumpled and he pressed a hand against his mouth. Richie sighed, getting out of his seat and moving to sit beside Eddie, wrapping an arm around him. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie let out a wet, humourless laugh. “Why are you sorry? You tried to warn me. You were the only person who tried to warn me.”

Richie swallowed roughly, rubbing Eddie’s back. “If it makes you feel any better, I actually wish I had been wrong.”

Eddie wiped tears out of his eyes, then dropped his hand to Richie’s knee and squeezed. “I’m sorry, too. You know, that you’re... getting tossed under the bus with this whole thing. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” Richie agreed. “But I’d expected it. I figured they’d at least wait until you were promoting the album or touring. But I kind of knew all along that I’d be the bad guy.”

Eddie’s eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Richie frowned. “It’s too late for that, Eds. I’m sorry.”

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #lad #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #today on: ashley only updates la devotee after 1am

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3w-writer-with-wings · 5 years

Note

1, 5, 6, 10, 17, 19, 22, 23, and 34 for the yugioh meme?

1) Favourite Yu-Gi-Oh! series

This is like asking me which out of my six children should survive while the other five die XD. I love all the series since they all have both pros and cons, and they all have interesting characters and stories, but I guess ARC V will always have a special place in my heart since it got me back in Yugioh fandom (I stopped after 5Ds for a while several years ago). VRAINS is currently my favourite series plotwise since it continues to surprise me and keeps me hyped every single week.

5) Favourite opening/ending

For the opening, it’s a tie between second and fifth ARC V opening. “Burn” has an incredibly upbeat melody that makes me smile every time I listen to it. “Light of Hope” on the other hand tells a story of how there is despair but smiles will be there to make it go away. I’m rather torn between choosing either of them since they are both really nice endings. As for ending - “Close to You”, 4th ending from 5Ds. I first started watching 5Ds in English dub but once I caught up with it, I was too curious what is going to happen next so I started watching Japanese dub from that point on and that was probably the smartest decision ever. I got to see “Close to You” not only as the first Yugioh Japanese ending but the very first anime ending ever. I loved every single moment of it, of all the characters just chilling around the city, then meeting up, watching the sunrise and then riding D-Wheels with their dragons! It is an ending that is beyond perfect and really emphasises the bonds and friendship between all Signers.

6) Favourite character

If you had asked me this question before Takeru showed up, I would’ve probably blurted out the names of several characters and say how I love them all, but Takeru is a special case. You see, he is a character that I loved before he even officially appeared XD. I’m following the news, cast lists and summaries, so when Takeru showed up for the first time in an anime magazine (like a month before his official anime appearance), I fell in love with everything about him. Both his human self and avatar had all the right colours and designs that fit his personality well, his backstory was intriguing, I was already looking forward to seeing another Lost Child and out of all possible voices, he got to be voiced by one and only Kaji Yuuki (who is among my Top 3 anime voice actors!). Then he showed up in the new opening and ending and him being friendly and cosy with Yusaku was just plain adorable! I had no idea what his role was going to be but from that point it was clear - Yusaku is getting a new friend! And was his entrance perfect - lightning, fire tornado and then him! 10/10 Burner of Souls! Not only was he righteously hyped up, but he also continues to be amazing and I have a feeling his character will get even more development!

10) Favourite Duel Monster

It’s hard to pick a single monster, but I love every single card in Johan’s deck aka. Crystal/Gem Beast archetype. The designs are simple but so well executed and out of all of them, it’s hard to pick just one. I love their story, the legend and just the fact how much they all care about Johan, trying to reach out to him when Yubel possessed him. A big plus is also the fact how much personality they all have and they are always there to help up Johan.

17) Have you ever cried over YGO and why?

You should’ve rather ask me when I didn’t lol. But yeah in every spinoff there was a moment that I actually cried. In original series there were two moments, when Yugi duelled Atem in the fourth season, letting him defeat him and then fading away in his arms and the Ceremonial duel when Yugi stumbled on his knees and cried, I cried with him cuz I also didn’t want Atem to go. Then in GX, it was basically whenever Judai would show vulnerability, cuz really, I hated his guts and his goofy overpowered persona. But then when he lost Johan, when he was afraid of Yubel, when he succumbed to the power of Supreme King and the entire season 4 when he was battling with depression - to see someone so cheerful becoming a mere shell of himself was so darn sad. 5Ds started darker but nothing could prepare me for two scenes, Yusei nearly dying, being afraid to duel and then watching his friend die in his arms and then losing another friend for real (Bruno! :’( ). Zexal made me cry a weird mixture of happy and sad tears whenever Yuma and Astral did something. When Astral sacrificed himself for Yuma I don’t know when I cried more - when Yuma watched Astral die or Yuma suffering from major depression for the next few episodes. But that scene when he got reunited with Astral was that more powerful because of it and their relationship is truly the purest of them all. ARC V, spinoff all about smiles was probably one of the saddest series, not just because of many sad moments throughout the whole thing aka. Yuto dying in Yuya’s arms for real, Yugo losing Rin, Yuya losing Yuzu, the fate of other Bracelet Girls and Yu-Boys and the overall ending, but also how inconclusive the ending felt. I kinda get the point was to show the realism of war, how not everyone can get a happy ending but it could still be executed better. Then there’s VRAINS…. *sighs* where do I even start with this….

VRAINS truly took the plotline seriously and doesn’t seem like it’s going to back down. It is like the writing staff put together a medley of the saddest moments in Yu-Gi-Oh! and were like, “Let’s make it sadder!”. From the fact that mere six-year-old children were tortured so badly, that Ryoken was so messed up by his father, that all Lost Children are still suffering in one way or another, that SOL practically killed a living being and all the drama that it’s going on between Yusaku and Kusanagi right now. Last week’s episode had me nearly tear up and for tomorrow I will most definitely cry. It’s just so painful to see someone so desperate to save their own family, to attack someone they were all set to protect just a few episodes ago… And VRAINS isn’t even over yet. I thought nothing could top Earth’s death scene, but from the looks of it, tomorrow will be getting a dose of the most painful feels.

19) Least favourite series

It’s a tie between GX and the first series if I had to choose one. GX has a rather monotone first half when there is some stuff going on, but it’s really episodic and easily forgotten. While there were some interesting episodes, the rest was just one giant filler that tried to deliver too much nostalgia from the first series instead of developing on its own. And speaking of the first series - I know the card game wasn’t as developed at the time so tons of duels made absolutely no sense. Then it was only Yugi, Kaiba and Joey having the development and extremely long duels that were starting to feel off and annoying to watch. But overall - I know that was the very first series and the spinoff, so it was obvious it wouldn’t be perfect. What I truly love about Yu-Gi-Oh! is that it’s a franchise that continues to grow with every single spin-off, even if they’re becoming less relevant they are still getting stronger storywise.

22) Least favourite character

This little brat is a perfect representation of how to create the most annoying character. Everything about him screams “annoying, useless and awful”. It would be completely fine if he was an episodic villain, but noooo for some reason writing staff was like, “hey let’s make this dude into Yuma’s friend”. I get it, Yuma can make friends easily, but for the love of God, why him?! Yuma has enough friends already, why bring this brat into his group? Tokunosuke has literally no purpose to be here but to cause trouble or be a plot device to bring Yuma trouble. Okay, I was fine with that one time that he got Yuma into trouble and Yuma still forgave him, but why the hell did they have a need to repeat that three more times? I feel the same way about Kotori - she has no basic purpose but to be moral support or act as a damsel in distress.ZEXAL had way too many characters and out of them all, they picked the most useless ones for major roles.

23) NOTP

Canon datastormshipping. I think I made it clear why I dislike it in two posts already, but I guess I could sum it up for the third time. In canon verse they are two unstable people who bring out the worst of each other. They rarely interact, their ideologies are vastly different and they are in a way obsessed with each other in a very unhealthy way. If the two of them dated it would most likely result in a very toxic relationship which would only worsen up their already broken mental states. Again, I greatly dislike this ship in canon verse (in anime up to episode 92) and my opinion could change by the end of VRAINS. I still like the fanfics and fanarts that depict “what if” scenarios where their relationship could work (I’m actually writing one at the moment and I have plans to write one where I focus on their relationship in detail), but canon shipping just feels off and dysfunctional.

34) If you met Kazuki Takahashi, what would you say to him?

First of all, I would thank him for coming up with those amazing characters and plotlines. I still love the original manga and season 0 the most since it had so much creativity with different games, but I can see it keep getting included more with new summoning methods and unique stories. Then I would most likely present him my idea for the 7th series and its protagonist. From the start of the series, there wasn’t much about card game production or who designs them. We got some info on how Pegasus discovered Millenium Items and the tablet with Egyptian Gods and in GX it showed Hayato working as a card game designer. I would love to see a protagonist who loves games just like Yugi and wishes to create more, so he strives to become the best card game designer. He is not that keen on playing the game since he prefers to make the cards more, but when he creates a particular card(kinda like how Takato created Guilmon in Digimon Tamers) he is pulled into an adventure where he must find other cards that contain powerful Duel Monsters spirits and he has to lock them back into their cards. I would also love to have a protagonist that can talk with spirits again since while Judai had adorable interactions with Winged Kuriboh and Neo Spacians, it was still largely brushed aside and not that much explored. So yeah please make the next protagonist into a card game designer, it will be unique and open to so many interesting plotlines and potentials.

#yugioh series #vrains #homura takeru #Soulburner #ygo #yugioh zexal #yugioh gx #yugioh 5ds #yugioh arc v #datastormshipping

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nintendotreehouse · 6 years

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Happy Anniversary, Summoners!

The Fire Emblem Heroes game was released one year ago today, and to celebrate the anniversary, some of the Fire Emblem Heroes team members in the Treehouse got together to reflect on the first year since the game launched. Read on to see what they had to say!

Kris: It’s amazing how much Fire Emblem Heroes has evolved since launch. Many of us on the team play the game heavily outside of work as well, so each time a new option like Inherit Skill or the Weapon Refinery is added, we’re eager to play it on our own devices with our own teams.

But first, we’ve got to localize the content and get it out there, and on the loc side of things, there are aspects of the project that haven’t changed—mainly the amount of research involved. It’s a lot of fun digging into our archives for past games. The Heroes come from every main-series title, so we’ve put together a script database of all the games, including those not released in North America, to help us keep everything aligned.

The Treehouse “Fire Emblem Shrine” is not just for decoration. It’s part of our research!

Matthew: Even the early Famicom games like Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light have scripts that were quite lengthy for the time, so it really took a lot of work to get that all organized into something we could use as a reference. I mean, there are 15 games in the main Fire Emblem series alone!

Kris: It was worth the effort, though. The database allows us to research basic things, like item names or the way a character laughs, as well as deeper references. Most Heroes reference conversations from whatever game they’re from, whether word for word or just in passing.

Frederick does his best to serve his liege…

…and tries to help the Order, too. Sort of.

Kris: When we come across these lines, sometimes they have to be tweaked for their new context, both in Japanese and in English. A line that was once used angrily in battle might now be recast for general conversation. A critical-attack line might now be the voice used when you tap a Hero during battle. Very often, a line originally directed to a different character might now be directed to you, the Summoner. It's an interesting balance of keeping the link to the source material while fitting a new context and not confusing any players who are new to the series. I get excited when people post online about a reference they got, like the various bonus audio lines for the first round of Choose Your Legends characters.

Matthew: Yeah, it’s always great to see when people pick up on those references. As for me, while I’ve played every game in the Fire Emblem series, Genealogy of the Holy War is still my favorite. I loved how complex the world was in that game, and, of course, that complexity brought about some great drama. When we were asked to work on localizing those characters for Fire Emblem Heroes, I was honored to help out. Sigurd is a very unique lord and Arvis is a very unique villain in the Fire Emblem series. It was important for Christian and I to do their characters justice through the dialog and voice.

Sigurd professing his love to Deirdre in the Super Famicom original game.

Here they reference events from the original game in Fire Emblem Heroes.

Christian: Genealogy of the Holy War originally came out for the Super Famicom, and it was never localized into English. Given how great that game’s characters are, figuring out how to properly render their stories in English was both a challenge and an opportunity. I wanted to get things just right.

I put a lot of thought into how to portray their speech in a style that could successfully bring across the 1990s dark-fantasy style of the original writing while preserving the complexity of the storytelling and characterization for the modern era. In Fire Emblem Heroes, there’s not much dialogue for each character, but it usually cuts to the bone of what makes that character special—and there’s a lot of info that you need to understand to get it right. Matt’s insight was invaluable there.

Matthew: In one of my main teams, Sigurd and Deirdre are together and share an S rank bond. (It’s canon after all, right?) Genealogy wasn’t the first game to give bonuses to characters when they were near someone dear to them, but it expanded the concept greatly and even introduced things famous to the series, like the weapon triangle and skills! There is a lot I want to say, but…since many players have yet to experience the game, I won’t spoil anything about the story here. Let’s just say that it’s much easier to increase the bond between Seliph and Julia in Fire Emblem Heroes than it was in the original game.

(By the way, I’m definitely using these characters for the Illusory Dungeon—that’s a rhythm-based dungeon in which you tap on the screen to attack enemies. And it releases in Fire Emblem Heroes later this month!)

Christian: One thing that has made me very happy is the positive response to these characters—both from fans who played the original Super Famicom game, as well as those who never encountered these characters before they appeared in Fire Emblem Heroes but now consider them to be invaluable parts of their teams. Just a year ago, a lot of Fire Emblem players in the West had no idea who Arden was!

Here, in Genealogy of the Holy War, Arden is about to find a special ring!

That same ring gives Arden a unique skill in Fire Emblem Heroes as well!

Tim: While I appreciate the history of the older games like Genealogy of the Holy War, the greatest joy I’ve experienced in playing Fire Emblem Heroes during its first year has been the evolution of my beloved #TeamLucina. Lucina was, luckily enough, one of my first summons when the game launched. Since then I’ve been blessed with summoning Special Hero Spring Lucina, obtaining a handful of masked Lucinas (or “Marths”) from the Tempest Trials (thusly merged into a single +4), and the Lucina I got as my Choose Your Legends free Hero.

Matthew: That’s two blues and two reds. Is that team actually any good?

Tim: Imbalanced as #TeamLucina may seem, it’s a surprisingly solid squad—and it all came down to masked Lucina, who arrived upon my shores with naught but Falchion to her name.

Number 6 in my list, but number 1 in my heart.

Kris: We’ve seen a lot of fans online create their own #Team based on a character, artist, or voice actor. Masked Lucina is a great blank slate to work with, too. What did you do with yours?

Tim: I’ve been able to utilize features such as Inherit Skill and Sacred Seals to turn her into the team medic, and a rather efficient one at that. First, I used Inherit Skill to give her Reciprocal Aid, Renewal, and Breath of Life; eventually she earned the Breath of Life Sacred Seal, so whenever she swings her mighty Falchion, adjacent allies receive a whopping 14 HP. Moreover, she’s sitting pretty at 45 HP, meaning she can heal practically any ally to full with Reciprocal Aid. And just a few turns later, or at the start of the next round in the case of a Tempest Trial, she’ll earn 20 HP back thanks to Renewal and Falchion.

Christian: What about her A Skill and Special Skill?

Tim: I gave her Death Blow and Glimmer to further bolster her already staggering attack power of 52.

Matt: You monster.

My one regret is missing the 5 ★ version from the very first Tempest Trial.

Tim: Throw Ally Support into the mix, and #TeamLucina is truly a force to be reckoned with. I pity the poor soul who encounters it in the Arena.

Kris: In the meantime, I’ll just be over here working on my +10 Frederick. Leveling the duplicates to merge should go quick thanks to the Special Training maps releasing later this month, since they let you train your units based on their type for an easier way to earn Exp and SP.

That’s all for this time, but from all of us on the Fire Emblem Heroes team here in the Treehouse, we hope you all continue to enjoy the game!

Good luck, Summoners!

—Kris C., Matthew N., Christian N., Tim M.

#Fire Emblem #Heroes #Nintendo #Treehouse

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parkerandstark · 7 years

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Group Project... (Parker x Reader)

(A/N) HII! So, I’ve been working on all the requests so far and I’m so excited for what I have in store for you guys, in the mean time, I hope you all can enjoy something I’ve been working on for a while. While there was no official request, it was something I had a lot of fun writing, enjoy!

“I have no clue what this is supposed to be.” I said, my eyes widening as I glanced at my friends laptop screen.

“Oh, come on… it’s obviously something to do with chemical compositions of water…” (Y/F/N) said. My face read disbelief.

“You’re delusional…. how are you in AP CHEM?” I asked sarcastically. She laughed a little before closing the picture, returning to the random game of solitaire she was playing instead of working on our group project.

“Nick, you got anything on aragonite saturation? We should include that in our presentation if we decide to go in depth about the acidification effects on water.” Nick looked at me as I spoke.

“Yeah, I got some reports about the reliability of the testing, but it’s outdated and scientists have switched to more modern method of study,” Nick replied, pulling up the various articles he found to show me.

“Interesting, can you find more information about the new tests?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Peter…” I called across the lab table, he looked up startled. “How’s your progress on the physical properties of water?”

“Uh… go—good.” He stuttered avoiding my eye.

“Do you think you have enough to pull the presentation together?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh… yeah—definitely…” he trailed off, glancing up once to meet my eye before blushing intensely looking back to the laptop screen.

“Good good…,” I trailed off returning to my own research.

It was obvious Peter was uncomfortable with the group he was placed in for our chemistry project, he clearly wasn’t friends with any of us, and he preferred to do his work alone as opposed to in the group, like I had been pushing for all of us to do. Peter insisted he could handle completing the work that was meant for two people on his own, leaving the three of us, me, Nick and (Y/F/N) to tackle the chemical properties of water, and its affect on the ecosystem.

“Ok, presentations are Monday, that gives us one more class day to work on it. We still need to start on the slideshow and practicing if we want a good grade,” I said with three minutes left in class.

“We’ll work on the slides tomorrow. Don’t worry, we got this,” (Y/F/N) said, still playing the solitaire game from earlier.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make up for the fact that we’ll probably need to work on this over the weekend. We still need to incorporate all the information we’ve found into one, smooth presentation.” I glanced over at Peter who hasn’t looked up from his computer and who hasn’t said a word, apart from when I forced him to update me on his progress.

“Peter, what do you think?” I asked, curious about someone else’s opinion.

He looked up, his eyes shifting from me to (Y/F/N). He opened his mouth to respond when the deafening bell sounded instead. Nick and (Y/F/N) sprinted out of the room, having packed up a few minutes earlier, leaving Peter and yourself to pack up together.

“If you need any help at all with your part, I’m always open,” I offered Peter. He glanced up at me, mumbling a quiet thanks before looking back at his backpack.

“Honestly, I’m not just trying to be nice. Anyways, the whole project is about tying the chemical and physical properties together, so it might help if we collaborate or something…” I said, following Peter out of the empty lab room and down the hall to his locker.

“Ok, thanks… for the offer,” he said, opening his locker quickly and grabbing his sweatshirt before slamming it shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“See you…,” I trailed off, my voice quieting in the busy halls of the emptying school as I was left alone in a sea of people.

“So what’s our status on this project?” I asked no one in particular, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead in attempt to alleviate the headache I have.

“We have the background and intro slide done,” Nick said, making a face as if we spent the entire class period working as efficiently as possible.

“Ugh….” I groaned, my head falling into the table as a sign of defeat. “So we definitely have to do this over the weekend…”

“Yeah… sorry (Y/N), not gonna happen. I have soccer practice all day tomorrow, and then playoffs Sunday. I’m booked solid,” (Y/F/N) said, her eyes growing tired at the mere thought of all the energy she’ll soon exhaust.

“Nick?” I asked hopefully.

“Sorry… the football tournament, we have like— three games.”

“Peter, please tell me you’ve got my back,” I begged my head on the table and giving my best pout to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I—I have no plans,” he said, his gaze quickly diverting back to the slideshow we had been working on.

“Great, meet me at the library tomorrow, noon?” I asked, hoping he’d look at me for confirmation.

“Noon sounds fine.” The bell rang, and the room cleared. Like usual, I was left the last in the room with only the teacher. I waved goodbye to him as I left.

I began my walk home, but the brisk wind cut against my cheeks, burning them raw from the cold of late October. Walking home in terrible weather was a usual for me, unless I took the subway which I hated with a passion.

I was one or two blocks from the apartment when, through my loud music I heard screams from up ahead. I stopped suddenly. They were abnormal, loud. It was a shrieking that seemed to rattle my bones. I was almost scared to continue walking—did I really want to know what was up ahead?

I took out a single earbud, listening again but only hearing the wind against my ears. Then, it happened again. A loud shriek, I swear someone must have been getting murdered. This time, it was followed by a noise that sounded like the air getting cut.

It seemed to be coming from behind me, and I turned just in time to see a red blob swinging down the middle of the street in record time. He must’ve gotten two or three blocks down before he swung to a right side street. Spiderman. I should’ve known. But, he was a legend; literally. Stories told in the streets. Rarely seen, but greatly appreciated. I was amazed I had even seen him at all.

I smiled an awestruck smile, and continued to walk to my apartment, taking extra caution, but keeping my eyes open for the man in a red suit.

“You should’ve seen him! It’s amazing! He’s amazing! I cant believe I saw him with my own eyes!” I exclaimed, recounting yesterday’s events to Peter. He sat across from me at the table in the library, and he seemed half-interested in what i was saying, half-focused on our science project.

“Imagine being that athletic, that—that fit. Having, powers—or whatever. He must feel like he could do anything,” I trailed off, my mind wandering to the hero I’d seen yesterday. “Don’t you think?”

“Sorry, who are we talking about again?” Peter asked jokingly, looking up from his computer with a small smile.

“Spiderman! Who else?” I played along, smiling back. My eyes trailed to my left, my thoughts traveling away as I began focusing on a bookshelf across from us. “But, I guess it isn’t always sunshine and flowers,” I said, I looked back at him, leaning slightly farther towards him.

“Huh?“Peter asked, maintaining eye contact with me.

“I mean, with any power, control, abilities—whatever,” I struggled to find the right wording. “There’s always gonna be responsibility…”

“I guess you’re right,” Peter said. He looked around the open room.

“Sure, he might be fighting crime and being a hero, but whenever something goes wrong—whenever a criminal gets away—who’s going to be the first person to get blamed?” Peter was glaring at me intensely now, giving me his full attention.

“And then there’s the guilt, the guilt of not being able to save everyone. I mean, he’s just a guy right? He’s gotta have a life. What happens when one day, he’s not there to save the city?” Peter looked away, his eyes lost with his own thought. “Sorry, we should probably get back to work.”

“You make a good point,” Peter said after sitting in silence for minutes. “There has to be negatives to protecting the city. But he’s obviously willing to accept them, the consequences of the ‘job’, for the better good. He’s willing to accept that responsibility, so long as someone gets saved along the way.”

“I suppose,” I started, “he’s truly one of the good ones then. Willing to risk his life, his sanity, for a bunch of strangers in New York City.”

“What a guy,” Peter said, cracking a smile at me when I looked up at him.

“What a guy,” I repeated, laughing slightly. I looked back down at the computer screen and continued on the group work that had to be done Monday morning. It was a lot of work, but I had no doubt in my mind Peter and I could get it done.

After a long four hours, Peter and I had managed to completely finish the twenty slide PowerPoint, and write Flashcards for each one of us to read from when it was our time to present our findings. It was starting to get dark out, but I wasn’t going to admit I was nervous to walk alone. Fortunately, Peter offered to walk me back to the apartments. I’m pretty sure he lived nearby anyway.

“Thanks, for offering.”

“No problem,” Peter said.

I think that in a matter of a few hours, Peter and I had actually become friends. He wasn’t awkwardly stuttering around me, and he actually made eye contact and conversation. I hope this ‘friendship’ goes beyond this weekend, because honestly he’s pretty kind.

“You’re pretty cool, you know?” Peter said after walking in silence for a bit. “You’re not like the other girls you hang out with.”

“I’ll take that as a complement?” I questioned.

“Oh! Yeah! I didn’t mean anything by that just—,” he put his hands out in defense. “You’re nice, not hanging off every boy just to get laid.” He took a breath, a bit of hesitation. “You made an effort.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, I guess.”

We walked in silence for a couple of more minutes as we approached the block that I lived on. I dreaded having to end the walk, because Peter’s company made me feel happy.

“Well, this is me,” I said, stopping short at the apartment entrance. Peter looked at the building and turned to me.

“We should do group projects together more often, it was fun.”

“We should,” I said, “we work really well together.” I smiled slightly.

Peter smiled back, looking at his shoes quickly, blush taking over his face. “We should definitely do more group projects together.”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

“Even if like, it’s just the two of us, we could still, y'know, work together,” Peter was back to his stuttering self. Now, I was the one blushing.

“I’d like that,” I said, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

“I mean, definitely, I am,” Peter said, looking up again, his arm slightly reaching towards me as he spoke. He realized he was reaching for me and blushed intensely, immediately moving it to his head, rubbing it as he turned.

“I guess I should be getting inside then?” I posed it as a question, wondering if we were done talking around this subject.

“Of course, its freezing!” Peter said. “Sorry, I babble.”

I turned to go inside, my hand pushing the door open. I turned around, leaning into the slightly open door and debated saying the words on the tip of my tongue. I got enough courage to say it. “I’d love to go out with you.”

“Oh good, you see, I was going to ask…” Peter continued to talk mindlessly, seeming to speak a mile per second, I smiled again, rolling my eyes as I pushed the door open some more.

“See you Monday, Parker,” I said, turning around and walking through the door.

“Yeah, Monday,” he waved, smiling widely as I walked away.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman #my stuff #parkerandstark

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breakingarrows · 6 years

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Media Journal Week of July 16-22

Ace Combat X: Skies of Deception

My love for the Ace Combat series is deep. Shattered Skies remains one of my favorite games of all time for its depiction of an occupied city from the perspective of a child who has grown up and is writing about his life during this troublesome time. The Unsung War is one I haven’t played as much or as recently, but I have fond memories of the tight group of fighter pilots you form progressing through its very long campaign. Ace Combat X has a story that has failed to engage me so far, but makes adjustments to gameplay missions that are keeping me interested. A special weapon requires you to keep the target in your reticule until it makes contact, which is suddenly a much more engaging mechanic than the simple lock on system. Missions require you to avoid enemy radar, defend sections of a ground force, eliminate enemies with on and off radar/lock on capabilities, and wipe out the enemy before they can make it to a certain location. This variety has already gone far and beyond above previous entries in the franchise, and make the portable entry feel like it wasn’t held back by the hardware, even if the missions do feel like they contain way less enemies and dole them out in waves during specific ones. The narrative from the civilian perspective this time involves a journalist who seems a bit resigned to his post covering a one sided war that is just now tipping in favor of my playable character’s nation. The journalist discovers the poverty the rogue nation is experiencing is fueled by their leader siphoning foreign aid into the military and pushing war as a means of funding his own production company which, sure, I guess nobody else found that out beforehand. It feels early and that there is still more ground to cover, but it lacks the immediate engagement of Shattered Skies, whose introduction had our narrator treat his parents deaths as passively as Yellow 13 did when he shot down the fighter that crashed into their home.

Demon’s Souls

I still laugh whenever I think about the title. Due to playing Dark Souls with Trevor for a video series I have been itching to spend more time with that series, but can’t with Dark Souls since that is cheating so after watching hbomberguy’s video on Dark Souls 2 and some other ancillary media I ended up booting up a new game in Demon’s Souls whose servers have been put to rest. Nevertheless I found myself enjoying the game and cutting through the early content at a much better pace that I expected, mostly thanks to a two handed Bastard Sword, my latent knowledge from my original playthrough, and the occasional guide hint from my phone. I made it through 1-1 and 1-2 with relative ease, got to the boss of 2-1 after some difficulty and decided to start 3-1 and made much more progress by myself than I ever had before. Something hbomberguy discussed was about playing the game “right” which wasn’t so much a disdainful statement towards those who are playing “wrong” but more about adjusting the way you play depending on what the game is throwing at you, such as when and when not to use a shield, lock on, dodge rolls, etc. This is why I chose a Barbarian class to start out instead of the usual shield and armor focused classes I always gravitate towards. As soon as I found a two handed weapon I knew I wanted to try to take my armor-less barbarian as far as she could go using large weapons and rarely holding a shield up. And its worked out pretty well. Despite dodge rolling sometimes feeling a little cheap, such as getting hit when dodging backwards more often than not, I still have found that I like making my way around enemies for openings more than blocking and attempting parries with a shield. I still have one on-hand in case of emergencies but I would say a large majority of my playthrough has been either two handed or with a catalyst for soul arrows in my left hand.

Final Fantasy VII

This was also inspired by another source, this one being the Abnormal Mapping two part episode covering this PlayStation classic. I’ve always had a fond love of Cloud’s adventure, especially the first disc, and decided to start a new game on my PSP in order to relive that magic once again. The beginning sections are as charming as I remember, and also remind me how silly the game can be. The sprites aren’t exactly the most detailed and rely on exagerrated movement to show emotions. This is mirrored by the dialogue. Wedge, Biggs, and Jessie continue to endear me with their attempts to break through Cloud’s tough guy facade. They’re so genuine in their mission as well as their attempts to befriend someone who, even when I choose the less mean dialogue options, still comes off as aloof. That is what makes their loss so impactful when it happens, Cloud never truly opened up to them even though that was all they desired was another friend for their group. Jessie and her gadgetry, Biggs and his own tough guy facade, Wedge who wore his feelings on his sleeve. These were characters I liked and wanted to learn more about and see succeed in their goals, but instead they get killed off by Shinra and are never really mentioned again, another casualty of Avalanche’s war. It even manages to fit this loss into the tone, which can very often get silly as I previously mentioned. Things like Cloud’s crossdressing quest where he scavenges female clothing items from various individuals throughout the wall market have humor to them, even if the actual crossdressing is treated as just something people do without unnecessary judgement from those aiding you. Barrett punches Biggs into the camera, the weapons shop at the intro has various characters referencing the gamepad and save points and treasure chests talk directly to the player explaining their purpose and function. While a majority of the mood, as supplemented by the music, can be very melancholy, it also makes time for more lighthearted affairs which I really appreciate.

Rage

I finally booted up Rage. I’m not quite sure why. I own it so I guess I should get my $2.99 worth out of it. I think the installation was longer than my playtime overall. I played the introduction and the bandit hideout mission. It was okay. That texture pop-in really is a bitch though. The movement feels good even if the pistol feels like it has no bite to it. I’ll get back to this one eventually.

North by Northwest

Another Hitchcock film where a hapless advertising man gets mistaken for a spy and gets involved in some hijinks. Holds the annoying feature I also didn’t like in Vertigo where some woman instantly falls in love with our male lead for no real reason other than the plot demands it. Even then the plot doesn’t really demand it, it just happens? Despite that North by Northwest is still enjoyable even if it seemingly goes on for so long. We reached what I thought might end up being the wrap up but it just continued onwards. Watching Cary Grant bumble around was a lot of fun, especially considering he didn’t even understand the script which Hitchcock loved apparently. The part early on where he is driving drugged is really hilarious. A Fun Fact TM Catelyn informed me of was that Grant is left of center frame for pretty much the entire film, which I feel has some deeper meaning to it but I have’t found or thought of anything yet to explain it.

Godzilla King of the Monsters

They’re making another Godzilla film and the first trailer released and its, fine. The monster on monster action looks like it will be good, as does the shots showing the size of the monsters when compared to humanity which is neat with current CGI. Something I’m still not a fan of is the continued insistence to place human characters into these monster films. Godzilla (2014) suffered mainly for placing a character I couldn’t give a fuck about as the center lead and not giving Godzilla much time. This one is apparently seeking to rectify the latter problem but I’m not seeing much improvement for the former. For one instead of a generic white guy soldier lead they have a preteen who, wow if you wanted to go in the wrong direction you sure have done it. Also we have some women talking about how humanity is a sickness and the giant monsters are presumably nature reacting to remove us, which, is just them spelling out one of the major themes of Godzilla The Franchise: that Godzilla was nature’s reaction to humanity’s capability for destruction. Shin Godzilla’s interpretation has that haunting last image because it was evolving to become the most destructive force possible: its own twisted version of humanity. As a group working together we are capable of much good but also much destruction, and so Godzilla was evolving to take advantage of that power as well for our destruction, and we just barely managed to stop it in time. Shin Godzilla is so fucking good and I hate that most people focus on the silly looking 2nd form.

Speaking of Hideki Anno

Evangelion 3.0+1.0 teaser

Someone got offhand footage of a short teaser clip for Rebuild 4 showcasing Mari in her Unit with new rotating arms shooting and spinning above a red sea with the Next Time remix music playing. It gives a window of 2020 for its release, which, okay sure. I’ll believe it when I see it and the teaser itself doesn’t really do much for me. The Rebuild movies have been up and down. 1.0 is a good remake of the first batch of episodes. 2.0 does its own thing and I really love the finale for that one. 3.0 diverges greatly and I think is kinda a mess. It has been awhile since 3.0 though so who knows what the fuck Anno has planned for this next one.

I discovered this cut of a Return of the Jedi trailer that imagines a world in which David Lynch directed the third Star Wars film and its great.

I mentioned hbomberguy earlier but I wanted to point out his videos are really, really well done. Great editing and humor skits thrown in the midst of great analysis works on movies, games, and media at large. I especially loved his Serious Sonic Lore Analysis that features a very creepy but also hilarious cosplay.

Goodnight Moon has been putting out a bunch of ASMR videos if you’re into that (which I totally am). Her babblebrook series is fucking stellar and I am super invested in seeing whatever she does next with it.

I was reminded Firefest was a thing Mega64 thankfully attended.

I glanced through that Uncharted fan film and came away with the realization that those characters really are just tropes and whatever could be done with them has already been done over the course of five separate games.

Metric released their first single from the upcoming untitled Album named Dark Saturday and its pretty great.

JJJ in the Sam Raimi Spider-Man films is the best.

#Criticism #writing

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cinnalock · 6 years

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(More Mineko headcanons, this time featuring friendship headcanons in addition to some more for her and her boyfriends. I’m thinking about creating a masterlist for all of her headcanons in the near future for convenience and because I revised some of the headcanons for her and Komari in light of his backstory being revealed [that I haven’t revised in the post I made weeks ago].)

General/Friendship:

Mineko’s “Character Image” Playlist is:

“Chocolat”-Mariya Ise

“My Sweet Heart”-AmaLee

“Blue”-The Birthday Massacre

“Resentment”-XanduIsBored

Onoda and Mineko talk a lot of about different mech animes, but she doesn’t share his same passion for Love Hime. They’ll still go to Akihabara together to go shopping and discuss new series and seasons of the shows they like. Some of Mineko’s suitors get jealous of the time she can spend with Onoda, but mostly they know it’s a harmless, wholesome friendship between the two.

Doubashi and Mineko have a respectful relationship for one another, albeit it starting a bit rocky. Mineko didn’t like Doubashi’s aggressiveness, but once he mellowed out thanks to Izumida, they started warming up to each other. Doubashi admires Mineko’s hard working tendencies and respects her greatly, taking her criticisms with humility when she scolds him for being abrasive.

Izumida and Mineko get along surprisingly well. Having been large in the past himself, Izumida doesn’t criticize Mineko about her weight despite currently having a fit body, acknowledging that she gets along just fine and even defends her from bullies who’d try to say otherwise. Izumida is often accused by his teammates of being their “mom”, but Mineko often backs up his lecturing ways to try and get the other boys to be more responsible.

Speaking of moms, Kaburagi often treats Mineko like a big sister. Since she has a naturally doting personality and Kaburagi’s a bit spoiled, he picked up on her warm tendencies quickly and he instinctively started to treat her like an older sibling. Sometimes he pretty much demands her attention in wanting to be complimented for doing well, and complains to her when he feels like his teammates aren’t treating him nicely. He thinks that Onoda and Mineko should be together over Mineko and any of her suitors.

/w Teshima:

Their typical date spot is karaoke. Mineko was never really a huge fan of singing, but Teshima convinced her to come along for a casual outing with some of his friends; she didn’t sing by herself for one song during that time, but she had a lot of fun and it opened her up to karaoke being a place to go on dates for them. This has led to them also listening to music together in their spare time since Teshima finds songs that they could sing together.

Their ship song is “Where the Lonely Ones Roam” by Digital Daggers.

/w Manami:

Their typical date spot is anywhere they can have a picnic. Manami loves being outside most of all, and he also loves sharing his favorite spots with Mineko whenever he can. As a result, he begs/asks Mineko to prepare a picnic since he loves her cooking, and then he bikes them to a spot where they can sit down and eat. She wasn’t a big fan of this since she’s heavy and figured it’d be a lot of work for him to pedal them both on one bike, but she may as well not be on the bike at all with how easily he rides with them both on it; she usually sits on the handlebars facing him or balances side-saddle on the back of the seat.

Their ship song is “Plenty of Paper” by Eisley.

/w Yuuto:

Their typical date spot is a bakery. Both of them really enjoy sweets, and they get excited if they can find little hole-in-the-wall places that sell interesting items; like one date they may find a place that sells French pastries, and then the next they might try somewhere that specializes in different styles of crepes. Since Yuuto has a similar appetite to his brother, he likes to order as much as they can to try out, but since Mineko’s more of a grazer she doesn’t eat as much, leaving Yuuto to pick up the slack so they don’t waste food. He gets stomachaches because of this sometimes, but he sweet-talks Mineko into rubbing his belly when he overdoes it.

Their ship song is “Sugar” by Maroon 5.

/w Kuroda:

Their typical date spot is the restaurant/diner Hakone frequents. Kuroda likes to be a bit more casual with their dates, part of which is that something simple means that they could have more time together that qualify as a date in his mind, so he believes meeting at Hakone’s favorite hangout after school is enough of a date. He’ll treat her to more romantic places occasionally, but he likes if there’s not a whole lot of pressure to do something extraordinary and simply hanging out can be a date.

Their ship song is “Bruises & Bitemarks” by Good With Grenades.

/w Ashikiba:

Their typical date spot is a cafe. It started off as Ashikiba just going by where his friends told him to take Mineko on their first date, but they really enjoy the peaceful atmosphere at a cafe so they usually go to one when they have some free time. He especially likes it if the cafe has some jazz or classical music playing in the background, and he has the tendency to close his eyes and hold Mineko’s hands from across the table as he’s listening with a warm smile on his face, enjoying the “wholesome” feeling of them being together.

Their ship song is “I’m Yours” by Alessia Cara.

/w Aoyagi:

Their typical date spot is an arcade. Both of them really enjoy video games, and they like going to an arcade to play games together; Aoyagi is better at rhythm games like taiko and DDR, but Mineko is better at fighting games. They end up making bets with each other, like “if I make more baskets than you then you owe me a kiss” or “if I beat this high score then we get okonomiyaki afterwards”. Despite getting a little competitive with each other, they end up having a lot of fun, and most of the time they give all their tickets to a kid before they leave than use them for anything themselves.

Their ship song is “Memories” by Within Temptation.

/w Terufumi:

Their typical date spot is an aquarium. Terufumi sees the aquarium as a nice, pretty place to take Mineko that doesn’t seem as “serious” or overly romantic because he worries about being overbearing about his feelings and doesn’t want to scare her off, despite what she says. He also enjoys showing off his knowledge of marine life and even studies before their dates to try and impress her with how much he knows, but Mineko just loves looking at pretty fishes and being in his company.

Their ship song is “Lionheart” by Demi Lovato.

/w Kishigami:

Their typical date spot is nowhere, or at a race they both happen to be at. The two aren’t dating at all, but Kishigami refers to them running into each other as “dates” since he knows there’d likely never be a formal one. If there was one, it’d be because Mineko lost a bet between them; in which case, Kishigami would take her to something surprisingly simple like a cafe and then a movie. He wouldn’t try anything, but he’d be highly amused every time Mineko regarding any of his actions with suspicion.

Their ship song is “Sugar Skin” by Guano Apes.

Deep down he believes that Mineko truly hates him and it hurts him to think that she does. Finding someone he thinks is extremely similar to him and having her “hate him” makes him feel terrible, but he doesn’t want to hide his true self in front of her just so she might find him more enjoyable to be around. However, Mineko doesn’t hate him, but greatly dislikes that he doesn’t seem to respect her boundaries, even if he’s more restrained with being around her than with most others involved in cycling.

#mineko juzomori #mineko headcanons #i love my girl and her 27 boyfriends okay?

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allthejoeks · 7 years

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LSOR- Chapter 2

Links: [FF]

Chapter 2: Partners (or Why Ouran Would Dominate at Capture the Flag)

Leo and his three cohorts stood at the cliff with the rest of their class, Professor Ozpin, and Ms. Goodwitch. However, despite all of them being in the same location, there was a key difference in situation. Leo and his friends(?) were standing on four gray squares. Everyone else was not. Leo reckoned this made a great deal of difference.

"Due to the unprecedented display of immaturity you all greeted me with last night," Ms. Goodwitch announced. "There will be some changes to your initiation. If I had it my way, there wouldn't be an initiation, but luckily, your Headmaster is far more forgiving than I am."

"Thank you, Glynda," Ozpin said. "While I admire last night's… enthusiasm, let's call it, it only confirmed what I said about you all having wasted energy. As you all seem to have such energy, I think it only fit you all run through today's exercise with ease. Today, students, you will be launched into that forest right there," he gestured to the expansive forest in front of them. "That forest is currently inhabited by 20 second years, and copious amounts of Grimm. Your goal will be to survive 30 minutes in that forest without getting caught or dying. Once you land in that forest, the first person you make eye contact with will be your partner for the next four years. If your partner fails, you fail. Stick together. The duo closest to you in terms of time lasted will become your teammates. We will be keeping track of your Aura amounts from up here. If one of your upperclassmen forces you into the red, you will be considered caught, and if you are killed by a Grimm, you will be considered dead. Once either has happened, you will make your way back up here without bothering anybody. Any questions?"

Ouran raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Arc?"

"Does that 'fall into the red' thing apply to the second years as well?"

Everyone turned to look at him. Was he serious? Even Ms. Goodwitch seemed taken aback. "Yes, Mr. Arc. If a second year falls into the red, they will be forced to leave the forest," Ozpin answered.

Ouran nodded, a peculiar grin on his face.

"Now then, those are the rules as they apply to most of you," Ms. Goodwitch continued. "However, for last evening's perpetrators, they will be going half an hour earlier than the rest of you, and their timers will not start until yours do. Essentially, they must survive double the time. The reason for this punishment -and students, I cannot stress this enough- is because you started a fight on the first night at school."

Ouran raised his hand again. "Again, Mr. Arc?"

"But Weird Eyes and Trash Can Girl tried to stop the fighting, so how come they're getting punished too?" Ouran complained. Once again, everyone stood in silence, but this time, it was because no one had any idea what he was saying.

Leo raised his hand. "I think he means Reina and I," he clarified.

"Well, Mr. Arc, in their attempts to stop the fight, not only did they fail, but they made things worse. Misjudging your own abilities can result in the deaths of you and your comrades in the field. As such, whatever the intention, all those who were involved in the escalation of the fight are being punished," Ms. Goodwitch clarified.

Ouran nodded. That made sense. He faced forward once again.

"Now, we will begin your 30 minutes. I'm sure you all have your Landing Strategies, and wish you the- What is it this time, Mr. Arc?"

"What's a Landing Strata-GEEEEEEE?!" Ouran screamed as he was flung into the air. Leo braced himself. He had been standing next to Ouran. And sure enough, he felt a violent shove from beneath him, and he was launched into the air. Reina, launched, then Selena, and with that, the four strangers were airborn.

Ouran flew through the air, steadily righting himself. Oh, "Landing Strategy". A strategy for landing. Now he just felt stupid for asking. He focused, feeling the familiar tug on his stomach whenever he used his Semblance. He forced the winds to the front of him, buffeting him, slowing him down. He slammed feet first into a tree branch, breaking it off, but he successfully caught onto the next one. He flipped onto it just as the first branch hit the ground. He immediately bolted downwind of the area. He could not let his position be revealed so easily. After all, it was a hunt, and if there was one thing he was great at, it was hunting. The only problem was the 20 to 4 odds for the first half hour. He had played enough games of Predator vs. Prey back home to know that, in games of hunting, the side with the higher number had the far greater advantage. So, all there was to do was make the numbers more even. He was in the forest, his element. He would not lose to anyone here. He smiled to himself. This was going to be so much fun.

Leo watched the trees go by with his Vision. He was moving at something like 30 mph. It would hurt quite a bit, even with Aura, if he took a full-on collision. He pulled two guns out of his jacket, and fired them into the air, stopping just as soon as his speed had slowed down enough. It would be wise to conserve bullets. He then shifted his guns into daggers, latching onto the nearest tree with them, using the friction to slow down, allowing himself to spiral to the ground. He licked his finger and felt the air, then followed the wind. It would also be wise to go downwind. He wasn't particularly stealthy so this wouldn't make much of a difference, but it was going to be a tough battle. He would use anything that could help.

Leo knew the initiation was not in their favor. It seemed like the four only had to go double time, which wasn't too bad, since the initiation wasn't built to actually fail people. Under the normal rules, anyone who didn't completely panic could survive an hour, but for the first half, they had deal with the fact that there were 5 skilled students for every 1 of them. It was in his best interest to find his partner as soon as possible, and, of the three candidates, he would prefer it be Ouran. His complete lack of any difference between his shown expressions and microexpressions interested Leo greatly.

Reina took a few calming breaths. That had been scary. Really scary. It had been 50 times worse than any one of those tower drop rides at amusement parks. And it wasn't over. She was still in midair. Any civilian who did this would definitely die. This was deadly. But she was not a normal civilian. She would not die. She had practiced her Landing Strategy in several different situations at Signal. She shot strings from her fingertips that tied themselves to passing branches. She didn't just stop letting the lines run from her hand, as at her speed, that would yank her arm off. Rather, she lengthened the line slower than the speed she was moving at, so the pull from the string still slowed her down, just not painfully so. Once she slowed down enough, she shot another string forward, lassoing a branch ahead of her, and she swung down to the ground. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do, but standing still was not an option. She had to pass this initiation no matter what. She couldn't disappoint her family and friends on Day 1. She walked forward. It was as good a direction as any, she supposed.

Selena sighed. Nobody, not even herself, heard it because the wind was whistling along at 30 miles an hour, but she did it anyway. This was too easy. She'd complete the initiation without breaking a sweat. She flicked Rune Queen, creating two circular runes, one at the branch she was about to crash into, and one on the ground. She flew straight into the branch rune, and popped out of the ground rune. Her inertia took her up to the branch rune again, and once she popped out of the ground rune, she did a flip and land a foot away from it. She erased the rune on the ground. She would just have to create another one when she was in a pinch and she'd be up on that branch, safe from harm. With her Teleportation and Dust Runes, no one would be able to even touch her. She marched forward, because it truly did not matter where she went.

It took Ouran 54 seconds from landing to find a Huntress-in-training. It took him three minutes of silent stalking to realize that she would not let her guard down in any reasonable time. He was impressed. To maintain such constant total awareness was a difficult thing to do for somebody not born in a dangerous environment. This school really was the best. Unfortunately, he was the one person who could take advantage of that vigilance. He stayed on the branches on top of her, killing off his presence and noise. Not even a Grimm could sense him when he was like this. Then, he lifted his hand. He created a breeze, one that rustled through a bush in the direction opposite of him. She immediately pointed her gun at it. "If you come out now, I won't shoot you," she announced.

Ouran alighted onto the ground. He crept up, staying directly behind her, and gripped his swords.

10 seconds later, Professor Ozpin's Scroll chimed. He glanced down on it. "It would seem Mr. Arc has taken a piece before anyone could realize they were playing a match," he noted, amused. "Ms. Akamaru has been 'captured'."

Ms. Goodwitch turned to him. "Ms. Akamaru?" she whispered, shocked. "She placed first in all surveillance and hunting tests."

"Glynda, we train Hunters, with a capital 'H'. But that boy, he was raised a hunter, lowercase. That is a world of difference. There is no doubt in my mind that right now, Mr. Arc is the most dangerous entity in that forest. And, seeing as the second years can see the same screen I'm seeing, they've all realized that there's something in that forest that can remove them from play. Now they are all wary. The fight has, mentally, been brought to them. Mr. Arc put them in check with a single move."

"You cannot sincerely believe that boy capable of thinking-"

"Glynda, I believe that that boy had this in mind the instant he raised his hand for the first time. He is a hunter, someone who has lived every day one step away from death. He knows fear and panic better than anyone else in that forest. So long as this game goes on, he is the absolute chessmaster."

Ouran fiddled with his underwear as he walked. Whatever sort of fabric kingdom underwear used, it really had a habit of riding up, especially when he got more mobile. He'd have to see if he could get different ones. While he was attempting to extract it, he saw some tracks on the ground ahead. He withdrew his hand from his pants and bent down to examine them. They were Beowolf tracks, extremely fresh, probably wouldn't take too long to catch up to them. The depth of the depressions interested him too. They had been running with force, meaning they had detected a target. He smiled. That meant if he followed these tracks, he'd have his next target. His underwear issue could wait. Not for too long though.

Leo ran along the path, attempting to evade the Beowolves. Well, not exactly "evading", more like he wanted to fight them in a terrain more advantageous to him. He had been running for a minute now, and he could see a clearing up ahead, thankfully. His breath was starting to run ragged. He reached the middle of the clearing and whirled around, watching as the Beowolves spread out in front of him.

Leo stayed still, flicking his eyes between his attackers. Every eye shift, nostril flare, and leg twitch was properly categorized and analyzed. He had a rough understanding of what their movements would be. Now time for the dance to begin. Two split off from the pack, three attacked from the front, one hung back. Showtime.

He reached behind him, for the two guns on the back of his belt. He threw them into the air above him as they shifted into daggers. Three Beowolves charged right for him. While bringing his hands back, he grabbed the four guns strapped to his hips and started juggling them. He shot six bullets, one leg, one head, each time. One of the splitters was going to attack from the left. He shifted two of his guns to knife form and pivoted to greet it. One knife used to deflect the thing's swinging claw, the next used to slash its throat. The other splitter should be attacking him from the right now. He swung his arms back, grabbing the guns he had dropped when using the knives, and pointed them at the angle where they should hit the Beowolf's head. Two splatters told him he had been correct. That left only the straggler, who was now barreling towards him. The timers on the knives he had thrown at the start went off. Their gun handles fired, and they shot off like rockets, if rockets' spins were perfectly timed to hit a Beowolf right in the head. Now blinded, it failed to notice Leo dodging out of the way and putting a gun to its head. One click later, and he no longer had any Beowolves to deal with. He looked down at the ground. One of his knives hadn't actually hit the Beowolf, but had skimmed it and landed in the ground. He glared at it. How irritating.

Leo leaned down to pick up the wayward knife. As he did, he heard a roar from behind him. Shit. He turned his head to see a larger Beowolf, clearly the most experienced in the pack, launching itself at him. It must have stayed completely out of sight in order to find an opening, rather than go for a full offensive. Well, it had found one. With his body crouched down like this, he wouldn't be able to launch a counterattack, and he wasn't capable of dodging a creature this fast. His only chance was to wait for an opening in its barrage and fire his guns through its throat, but he would not be coming out unscathed. As he braced himself for impact, however, a tremendous blast of wind hit the Bewowolf from the right and sent it flying. Leo glanced to the right, already knowing who was there. Ouran Arc smiled at him, holding his sword out in post-swing. The experienced, Aura-less, black creature of death was one thing, but how had the tall blonde clad entirely in blue gone unnoticed until now?

"Yo," Ouran greeted. "Figured you could take care of the pack yourself, so I held back, but that Beowolf looked like it was about to do a number on you."

"I'm sure I would've been the victor in the end," Leo replied. "But yes, thank you for the aid."

The Beowolf staggered up to his feet. Ouran whistled. "My windblade didn't put you down? You're a tough one, ain'tcha?"

Leo moved to finish it off but Ouran blocked his path with his sword. "Nope. You had your fun. I'll take care of this guy," he said, smiling.

Leo looked at Ouran. As expected of someone willing to start a fight at orientation, his smile was filled bloodlust. He put his guns back in his holster.

Ouran walked forward, swords at the ready. He and the Grimm circled each other. Leo watched with interest. Everything about the Grimm's posture and movement suggested it was incredibly wary of the opponent in front of in. In contrast, Ouran just looked irritated.

Ouran paced the Grimm. This always bothered him about older Grimm. They would never engage unless they were sure they could win. Sissies. Luckily, he had spent a lot of time practicing a technique to bait them into a fight. He ran forward at the beast. The Grimm lept at him, claw raised in the air for a powerful strike. Ouran grinned. Easy. He dug his claws into the ground and rocketed towards the beast, now at full speed. He snuck into the opening left by the Beowolf's raised arm before it even had time to react. He pivoted, and spun on the spot, bringing Dexia through the beast's armpit, cleaving off its arm completely. As Dexia's follow-through spun his body, he held Alisteria low for a slash at the Grimm's leg. Not a complete amputation, but certainly a deep wound. The Beowolf immediately attempted to retreat, but with only three limbs, one of them crippled, it only managed to stagger away. Ouran promptly body slammed it, pinning it to the ground. Completely immobilized, it could do nothing as Ouran thrust his blades through its neck. Ouran felt all of the body's resistance give way as the creature died. He sheathed his swords and hopped off the creature's back as it dissipated.

"Not bad," Leo praised. "Your speed and footwork are unlike any I've seen. You made much quicker work of him than I would have."

Leo cringed slightly at his praise. A tad too similar to the way he talked to the politicians and aristocrats, something he swore to abandon. Still, it wasn't a lie this time, and it was important to make a good first impression.

"I'd hope so," Oran replied. "But you're not too bad yourself. All those gun tricks you did? Totally Grimmjaw."

Leo looked at Ouran's face. Based on his somewhat impressed expression, 'Grimmjaw' was a compliment. "Thanks, partner," he remarked.

"Yeah, I guess we are partners now, huh? Well met, Weird Eyes. Glad it was somebody smart like you."

Leo winced. "Do you have to call me 'Weird Eyes'? I'm not one for nicknames."

"It's not a nickname, it's a new-moniker."

"A what?" Leo blanched.

"A new-moniker," Ouran repeated. "You know, something you call people to help you remember stuff about them? It was one of my cousin's vocab words for school. Figured you would know it."

"Do you mean a mnemonic?" Leo corrected. "A word, phrase or poem designed to help you remember something?"

Ouran scrunched up his face in concentration. "Hmmm… you know, that sounds kind of right, too."

"It is right," Leo established. "New-moniker is definitely not a word. I can see your train of logic in getting it confused, but the correct word is mnemonic."

Ouran shrugged. "Alright then. I was never good with words anyway. What should I call you?"

Leo held out his hand. "My name. Leonardo Kuros, or Leo for short."

Ouran grinned and shook it. "I'm Ouranos Arc, call me Ouran."

Leo winced. Ouran had a very tight grip. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

Reina trekked through the forest. She wasn't quite sure where she was, or how long she had been walking, she just knew she should be vigilant. Or should she be a little less vigilant, so she could conserve mental strength for when she needed it? She'd be in this forest for a while after all. But, how would she know when she needed to super-focus if she wasn't already focused? It was a dilemma.

"You murmur to yourself, you know."

Reina jumped at the sound of another person's voice. She turned to see that the tree she just walked by had a person leaning against it, specifically the person whose real name probably wasn't Sharp Shoes. Reina looked her over. She was really pretty, had great posture, and had a face that exuded both confidence and apathy. It was like she was a magazine model brought to life. Reina immediately felt awkward in her sweatshirt and jeans. "Umm, hey there," Reina stammered. "So, I guess we're partners, huh?"

"Guess so," the girl replied tersely. She held out her hand. "Selena."

Reina gratefully shook it. "Reina Mahagan, at your service."

Selena broke the handshake first. "Wonderful."

Silence quickly resumed. Reina stood there for a brief few moments, wondering if they should do something. After a few moments more, she decided they should probably do something. A significantly larger amount of moments after that, she worked up the courage to inform Selena of this fact.

"Uh, Selena, shouldn't we- shouldn't we keep moving?"

Selena shrugged. "I don't see why. Now that I've met you, I have a partner. There's literally no reason to move around until someone finds us."

"But, isn't the point that people don't find us?" Reina asked.

Selena rolled her eyes. "Look, let me show you."

She flicked her wand, and Reina watched in awe as a circle of runes appeared on the ground, then was shocked to see the ground within the circle disappear to reveal a tree canopy. "What you're looking at is the tree I landed on," Selena explained. "My runes can create portals. If someone finds us, we'll just jump in there, and then move in another direction. Rinse and repeat. Simple."

"Oh, uh, cool," Reina said. "I'll just… I'll just stand here then."

And so she did. She listlessly stood there, nothing better to do. Her partner had everything under control, and seemed to emanating a fairly strong "Don't talk to me" vibe. It seemed like she was wildly unnecessary in this whole affair. Which was fine, if she was unneeded, she was unneeded, just… she really wished her existence wasn't already pointless on the second day. There was a bit of a sting to that.

Selena looked over her new partner. She had been the one restraining the dumb blonde last night, and the one who had talked to him on the airship. A goody two-shoes type. Selena looked at her battle uniform. A dark pink hoodie with a full-length zipper, a loose, pleated skirt that matched her mahogany hair, sneakers and black socks that went halfway up her shins. The only thing that made her not totally plain was… oh no.

"Why do you have a fanny pack?" Selena asked, disdain dripping from her voice.

Reina jumped at the sudden question. She glanced down at the object of interest, emblazoned with her insignia and strapped to her hip. "Oh, uh, it's my weapons pouch," she explained, pulling out one of her yo-yos to show Selena. "I store my Dust yo-yos in there, so I can grab them when I need them."

"Right, but did you really need it to be in a fanny pack?" Selena asked.

"Well, you know, function over form." Reina withdrew into herself. Selena was really critical. Well, they were practically strangers, she supposed. She should give her the benefit of the doubt.

They stood in silence for a couple minutes. Reina played Cat's Cradle to pass the time, hoping that Selena would take notice and would remark on it, leading her to explain her Semblance, which would lead to a conversation. Selena didn't. Reina risked a brief glance at the other girl. She was pointedly examining her nails. She was clearly not going to be the one to start a conversation. Which was cool, y'know, sometimes people just didn't want to talk. But maybe she was just nervous, like Reina was. She should at least try to make conversation. But, like, how could she just start a conversation? Did they have anything in common? She didn't know. It's not like she could just start an interview or something. Wait a minute.

"Do you wanna play 20 Questions?" Reina blurted out, before she could convince herself it was a stupid idea.

Selena turned her head to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, y'know, we're partners, right? So we should probably get to know each other better, and I figured, I'm doing nothing, and you're doing nothing, so I figured y'know, this was the best time to do it, and 20 Questions is a good way to do that, because you know, it's questions," Reina finished, withering away towards the end.

Selena stared at her for a moment. Reina wished she could be a little less intimidating. Then she spoke. "Sure, why not? Like you said, I'm not doing anything."

Reina smiled. "Ok! Cool! Uhm, I'll start. What's… what's your favorite color?"

"Lavender," Selena said. "What's your favorite color?"

"Pink. I mean, I know the obvious answer is 'mahogany'," Reina answered, tugging a strand of her hair. "But I just really like pink. What's your favorite food?"

"Not really sure. Never thought about it," Selena responded. "Yours?"

"Oh, uh, peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Reina said. "I mean, pretty basic meal, but it's easy to prepare, it tastes good, and it fills you up. It's great. What's your favorite hobby?"

"I like to read," Selena responded curtly. "What's your favorite hobby?"

"Oh, uh, I like to listen to music mostly," Reina said. "What kind of books do you read?"

"I'm going to pass on that question."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't have to be embarrassed," Reina said. "You can tell me. We're partners!"

"I'm not embarrassed," Selena growled, menacing glare back on in full force. She turned back to her nails, clearly indicating the end of the conversation.

Reina stared up at the leaves. This was fine. Her partner had answered most of the questions asked. Technically. She had cut it off when she felt things got too personal for their level of relationship, which was important and understandable. Granted, not being close enough to know her book preferences was really not close at all, but they had only known each other for a few minutes. They had months to get to know each other better… by standing in total silence. Yup, this was perfectly fine.

Oh sweet Dust this was going to be a long day.

#rwby #rwby oc #rwby fanfiction #lsor #insomniacfics

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