#gold n ruby ring belt!!

[h0use-fly]

needed more fill in ocs for him to terrorize introducing bug wizard its name is scab

[darlingofvalyria]

As the Princess of the Realm's most favoured maid, there are certain liberties you are privy to demand. Jealousy of the people surrounding your lady is not one of them. Amused, Rhaenyra wishes to show her jealous little darling that there is nothing to worry about.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ MIND MANIPULATION, BLOOD PLAY ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,763 ] [ masterlist ] | Vampire!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Maid!Reader

contains— smut, fluff - monsterfucking, hurt/comfort, jealousy, allusions to murders and kidnapping (not reader), mind manipulation, mentions of blood - this is a darkish fic - nsfw: monsterfucking, v and v sex, blood play(?), thigh riding, dubcon - no betas.

a/n— countess bathory rhae version. + Quick note: I don't actually remember/know if a crown princess is higher in stature to a queen consort. I know a queen at least is higher than a crown princess... but in this fic, i'm making it so that a king's direct/crowned heir is higher in status to that of a queen consort, as in what i want you to understand here that a king's chosen heir has bigger power than someone who is only married to royalty and title. this is of course different than the show but eh. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You understand why they salivate after her like starved dogs for a hunt. Prowling, on the verge of humping the very ground she walks on.

Your princess is every consonant and vowel of her royal visage and title, adorned in jewels and gold, Valyrian steel interlaced across her throat and waist. Fat rubies in her ears, weighted layers of gold gleam across her collarbone with a Valyrian steel necklace that strung an almost black amethyst drop nestled in her bosom.

Rings of all kind adorned her fingers as she held a goblet, amused by whatever topic the Riverland Lord was saying with gusto, fat stomach straining against a leather belt.

In any feast, she is the star, unable to be shadowed by her enemies now that her confidence had bloomed. She presided every conversation, lords and ladies following her red mouth as much as her words, dominating circles of power with ease that surpassed her gender.

The Heir to the Iron Throne. The Realm's Delight.

You had never been prouder to say you serve such a woman, body and soul.

And at the same time, you cannot help the feeling of jealousy to flash like a quick strike of a dagger. It is not your mistress' fault that people stave off the attention she gives them. It isn't their fault either as you understand the sentiment. Once you've played in her hand, you are evermore enraptured by her.

But you're different. In a way.

As soon as the lord— a Lord Erodd Mudd, a vassal of House Tully who had proudly proclaimed to be an eager follower of the future Black Queen, henceforth his vassals flooding gifts and compliments to your princess — had gotten too close for comfort and too red from the overflowing Arbor Red, that as soon as you see the quick flash of Princess Rhaenyra's comfort threatened, you spring into action.

You move about dancing bodies and beautifully crafted ladies to get to her, your eye meeting her sword shield, the Ser Strong, with a nod. You know your strengths and weaknesses; wrangling a drunken lord physically is not one of them. Neither is a violent drunk, and there had been enough unsavoury gossip of the Lord Mudd for you to be on edge the minute he approached the princess.

You take a low bow in front of them at your sudden interruption, your voice calm but firm. "My princess, the Prince Joffrey is ready to be put to bed."

Rhaenyra smiles, gladdened of your quick feet and quicker thinking. "Thank you—"

"Audacious!" Lord Mudd squeaks, the spittle and stench of alcohol almost makes you grimace. Almost. "The princess is talking to a lord, she does not want—"

"— the princess does not permit others to speak on her behalf, much less about what she wants or thinks," you can't help but snap. "Please refrain yourself from doing so, my lord."

He purples in offence, fist shaking that you sidle up to move in front of the princess. "Oh why, how dare—"

You let out a breathless exhale at the appearance of Breakbones and his meaty hand on the lord's shoulder. "My lord. I'm afraid you've enough to drink. The night grows long." As the lord opens his mouth to retort, Harwin's smile sharpens is enough of a warning that he swallows and jerkily nods.

He bows to Rhaenyra. "G-good night, your grace."

Rhaenyra smiles amusedly, as if she is letting you in on a joke. "And to you, my lord. I will have a maestre prepare a concoction my... little brother uses in a time of head aches. He so prefers the sweet Red such as you."

As he bows again gratefully, Lord Mudd manages to shoot you a final glare before being escorted by Ser Harwin. For a brief moment as the revelry continues on, most guests now well into their cups and dreams to kiss your princess' arse, she laughs quietly in the privacy of your closure.

You snort softly. "I am glad the night has amused you thus far, my princess."

She giggles again. "How can I not? You had been glaring at the poor fool for the better time of the night. He had thought that he had offended me in some way, and was trying to appease with all sorts of ridiculous promises."

"Hm. What can a small vassal house by the name that means 'wet dirt' could possibly offer the princess of the realm?" You can't help but be haughty. Though you do recognise you are being a bit unfair to the lord, for he isn't just the only one who had pried the attention of the princess all night.

"A pretty new maid," Rhaenyra muses, making your blood freeze. "He said he's got a pretty collection of wenches, all well trained by his mother, whom I do know has a heavy teeth with her servants. Lord Tully has endorsed them so. Lady Tully as well. Oh, and that he has daughters fit to be ladies in waiting, should I want for more... high browed ladies."

You inhale deeply. "It is indeed... a good idea to expand your ladies. You are the Heir, higher in stature to the Queen Consort who has an army of ladies both in Great Houses and Vassals." You nod jerkily. "It is a smart idea, my princess."

Rhaenyra smirks, enjoying far too much the inner turmoil of your little head. You don't notice it, as you had perfected serving her for such a time and she is sure onlookers would see only a lady conversing with her maid, but when you are upset and trying not to show it, you blink three times as if wrangling your thoughts in order. There is only a small dip in your serene mouth that always makes her want to press it. Move it around. Then maybe bite you.

But if she touched you now, she would not stop. She knows her hunger very well, and in preparation for the three-day celebrations as well as handling her duties between council meetings and audiences with the common folk— she had not drank in a while.

If she touches you now, there would be no care for titles or eyes.

When she shudders faintly at the image, your keen eye sees it immediately. You see the faint pallor, the inch of peakiness. She had been consuming more and more raw meat, but animals barely curb the thirst.

"Shall I prepare your feast, my princess?"

She blinks at you, surprised. "My feast? Surely this is enough."

You're unable to stop your sigh as you look away. "My princess, surely, you don't think such a feat should go unrewarded? Lords of Great Houses are swayed to your cause. Their vassals are following suit. Even if a Great Council is demanded once more in your reign, the tide will turn for your favour."

"You do not know that." Rhaenyra laughs lightly as you are already shaking your head. "We should not tempt fate."

"You had been doing your duty unto the realm as its heir and its delight. We are tempering any whisper of revolt. Your win is marked in stone," you insist. "A reward is only just."

You scoot closer, pinching your voice low. Rhaenyra holds her breath with a sharp intake of air, a coil, nothing but a whisper, of your scent finds her nostrils and her hunger tightens in her stomach that her fangs sharpen. She bites her bottom lip hard.

"My apologies," you whisper. "But I know your hearing turns mortal when you have not eaten in a while. You must eat. The bustle for the celebration has been a good excuse to hire more alongside what we needed."

Her eyes flash. "... Maidens?"

"At least four of them, my princess."

She gasps, inhaling quickly and your scent comes first, the sweet imprint of your blood hums her own, but her eyes widen at the thick stench of maidens right in her room. Your gift. For your beloved. You smile, despite the niggling, pinch of jealousy that has a thick hold on your neck and Rhaenyra can smell it.

"The revelries will continue on," you say with finality, bowing. "The Prince Jacaerys is doing well with the Northern delegates thus far, and the Young Prince Lucerys has charmed the pirate lords from the Free Cities, as well as the Dornish Prince and his... mistresses. We are well here. I will keep an eye on your heirs. Enjoy yourself, my princess."

The revelries go well into the Hour of Owl before you give nod to the last of the guards and servants tasked with ensuring the more raucous guests find their way to their beds, moving along the quiet flutter of candlelight and sharp, slanting shadows like a wraith. Or a ghost. No one pays you any mind, and they know better.

You sweep straight into the princess' apartments, locking the doors behind you. The iron stench of blood is already thick here, seeping through the corners and clinging to the tapestries. You're used to it, even if the first times had been shaky in your memories. But your actions are a routine, moving to the tub filled thick with blood, almost to the brim, moving a finger through it, beads of blood clinging to you when you raise your hand, falling in slops back to the tub.

You hum along your duties, the actions of a routine is familiar... if not surgically placed into your mind, though the uncomfortable reminder strikes your head in a low, dull thud. Worrisome thought is a blunt knife to the steel guard your princess has wrought in your head.

For your protection, my sweet, Rhaenyra had purred, feeling her nails scratch in the fragments of your malleable brain.

Candles are flickering by the time your princess strides into her room, the heavy door deadbolting with a heavy thud. The stench of blood and her scent— grapefruit and vanille, a touch of something more ancient, cloying and heavy — thickens as you bow, your fingers in unlacing and getting her off the bloodied dress. It’s relatively clean, and she throws you a smirk for it. She knows you hate having to share just as much as she, and knows even better you would never make much fuss, but your chest warms at her thoughtfulness regardless.

She sinks with ease, a low, satiated hum escapes her lips.

“I will assume this is another present?” she teases. “No maidens?”

“Not after the Lannisport incident, no.” You regard her weightily but she only laughs. Sunk in blood, her paleness almost makes her glow. A goddess if nothing else. But her cheeks are also fuller, vibrancy clinging to her gold spun hair and gaze. “These were just as much eager to serve the crown as the young women were eager to serve their princess.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh is spoilt as much as it is indulgent. “And I am assuming you never told them the length or width of their servitude?”

She really does feel much better if she is in such a teasing mood.

“No,” theres a petulant, almost offended notch in your tone that you dont hide as well, if youre ever truly trying to hide it. The day wanes and the moon waxes, and you have been obedient all day.

Rhaenyra bites her lip. You have been good. And deserving. She leans forward, pressing herself back. “Come.”

You still, holding onto her oils. “I still have to wash your hair, princess, it has been an arduous day."

“It has, and you have done so well in pleasing me that I require you here, with me.” Her voice pitches, irises molting to a startling black. Your spine straightens and your gaze glosses. She hums, delighted to see that the full force of her prowess is back. Though it isnt truly much. The strings from your mind and body is one that she has owned long before. “Take off your dress, sweet girl, thats it, faster— and here, right on top of me.”

You are awake and dreaming, its a state you know quite well, but you move where she wants you, your strings hers for the taking, and you are up to your navel in blood before your mind catches up with thought that you are bare, bare before your princess as she looks up, her hands, soft and cold and wet with blood, moulding against the divots of your soft flesh.

She pulls you down with ease, so careful with your skin. Her hunger though fulfilled, the remnants of the creature within her still breathes. Your heartbeat is a siren song and the urge to devour you, to sink her teeth right in that throbbing, fluttering pulse— four maidens down her belly and her hunger for you is still so strong.

Your mind is your own when you have settled righto n her thighs, bracketing her between your own. A shuddering gasp leaves your mouth as she draws her hands from thighs to your centre to your breast to your jaw, pulling you to meet her mouth in a soft exploration between tongue and teeth.

It is kissing for beasts, for creatures trying to find pleasure unknown to them but hungering for it; her tongue tangling with yours, licking at the roof your mouth, her teeth, sharpened, tugging and grating against your soft lips. It is gluttonous as it is guttural, and you feel debased. But you like it, you like the clouding of your mind from pleasure, chasing the hums from her throat and smiling from her little laughs.

It is no wonder that your body craves, hips moving in an insistent, errant sway against her thigh that she laughs once more, finish suckling a bruise on your arched neck.

"Sīr needy hae iā līve, So needy like a whore," she purrs against your skin. "Are you my," she grips your buttocks and pulls you to her, though you stumble, you are still relatively on your knees and your pearl that is craving for attention hits against her stomach and you gasp, "little whore?"

"Yes," you murmur, arms wounding against her neck as she adjusts you more comfortably on her lap, watching intensely at your pleasure as she sits you down and starts moving your hips in a rhythm. "Y-yes I am."

She snakes a hand between you to pinch at your clit. You jolt.

"Manners."

"Yes, my queen!" You sob, head falling on her shoulder as your hips go faster, the blood is spilling, the smell of iron is so strong it fills your lungs, but your first relief is near and Rhaenyra hates denying you pleasure.

Even her punishments have always been to over feed you your own pleasure, indulge in the staccato wails broken by whines as your last peak has barely finished before she is making you reach it again.

"There she is, my sweet girl."

She helps your thighs, moving you faster and faster as she drinks in your skewered brows and hanging mouth, taking a breast into her mouth and laving it with her tongue, groaning at the blood and suckling deep. You will be blooming with bruises come morn and she cannot wait to see the spring she has created on your skin. You are so delicate, so... human. Your fragility is a beauty she enjoys.

Like right now, when your pleasure catches up to you fast and she has made it a mission not to touch your cunt at all, maintaining your movement even as you whine deep in your chest, your forehead falling to her shoulder as you twitch and shudder. When you garble her name, falling your please, p-please, 'smuch, she stops, running her hands instead to your sides, cupping your breasts faintly before she's nudging against your nose until you give in with what she is silently asking: soft, tugging kisses.

"Deep breaths, sweet one," she whispers against your mouth when she pulls away, "I will take more of your pleasure. All the sweet maidens in these lands are nothing to the taste of you." For emphasis, her other hand is already between your thighs, brushing insistently against your pearl.

Teasing, always teasing. You shudder.

"Your pleasure is much your reward as it is mine. Now, once more. On my fingers." She bares her fangs, another light laugh that tugs at your core because it is full of promises. "Then against my cunt."

Because Rhaenyra gives as much as she takes.

And she wants everything you... 'willingly' give.

[styleofdiamandis]

STREET STYLE: MARINA WEARS FULL OUTDOOR VOICES ‘FIT TO JIMMY KIMMEL LIVE TAPING

On September 3rd, 2019 a pretty-in-pink Marina was papped arriving to the Jimmy Kimmel Live studios in Los Angeles ahead of her performance!

Our Greek-Welsh superstar wore a full look from athleisure label Outdoor Voices!

The screen-printed logo cotton crew-neck tee was sold exclusively at the opening of their Los Angeles store. She also rocked the Court skort in durable textured pink compression fabric which features built-in shorts and a phone pocket ($58.00 - available in other colors).

Shop:

Outdoor Voices “Court” Skort ($58.00)

Some of Marina’s jewelry is signed by Sylvia Toledano. She wore the Petite Candy hoops in gold brass with turquoise, turquoise verte, cornaline, yellow onyx, amethyst, died ruby and moonstone…

…and the Byzantine cuff with green turquoise, dried ruby, turquoise, amethyst, cornaline, green onyx, tiger eye, yellow onyx, black onyx and calcedoine.

One of M’s rings is the Versace’s Pre-Fall 2019 heart-shaped Love gold ring with Medusa icon and meander pattern.

Next, she accessorized her skort with her vintage 2000s Chanel CC logo-plaque belt in pink.

The absolutely S-T-U-N-N-I-N-G one-of-a-kind, hand-painted black leather bag was created by Mary Benson in collaboration with artist Victoria Watts!

Finally, she wore a pair of Buffalo’s classic white leather low top chunky sneakers with logo detail and lace-up front.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 54 DAENERYS VI (pages 563-574)

Dany and friends visit the market for a fun day out while her husband is hunting, and meet a wine seller who causes a significant change in Drogo's plans.

-

"The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs." Dany propped herself up on her elbow to look up at him (...) "It was prophesied that the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth," she said. "The earth ends at the black salt sea," Drogo answered at once. ... "You must talk to my lord husband," Dany said. "Drogo says the stallion who mounts the world will have all the lands of the earth to rule, and no need to cross the poison water. He talks of leading his khalasar east after Rhaego is born, to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea."

Oh now that's interesting. Up until now, Dany's interest in Westeros has been tangential at best, it's just some place that she's heard about that her brother feels felt belonged to him. Dany has had repeated moments of "if I can have this life I have now, or a simpler one, forever, I would be happy." But now that Viserys is dead, she's campaigning for her son to get the Iron Throne.

The riders let them come and go from unmolested, so long as they observed the peace of the sacred city, did not profane the Mother of Mountains or the Womb of the World, and honored the crones of the dosh khaleen with the traditional gifts of salt, silver, and seed. The Dothraki did not truly comprehend this business of buying and selling things. ... She saw a beautiful feathered cloak from the Summer Isles, and took it for a gift. In return, she gave the merchant a silver medallion from her belt. That was how it was done among the Dothraki.

The salt and seed make complete sense, salt is the og preservative, nutritionally important and has a variety of practical uses including making food taste good, seeds can be used as food, fodder or growing crops. Silver makes sense in the more abstract, I would love to know if there's a specific reason for silver over other metals.

But you know what's never made sense to me? The idea that the Dothraki have zero concept of buy and sell. Like, they receive a gift and they give a gift in return, that's literally trade, buy and sell is just trade where we use something that has little other use (ie gold and silver) and agree each thing is tradable for a set amount of that. But she says 'did not truly comprehend' so they do kind of get it, possibly they just think it's dumb. But the way it gets brought up sometimes I have to wonder is GRRM implying that the Dothraki aren't smart enough to understand the set price trade system, or that the entire culture is composed of asshats who'd steal from a tip jar (or worse leave a fake bill that quotes scripture on one side. Like "My 65 page, fully coloured comic book that took a year to make, pay what you think it's worth." *Puts a single dollar in the jar* kind of people.) Obviously in Dothraki gift swapping, Merchants are making losses, but I suppose as long as the losses aren't life or limbs? (D&D and the show continues to be bad at translating things = 🥛)

- and Kayakayanaya with iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks, -

Okay for a second there I was imagining those stretcher earrings but with a giant slab of ruby in the hole and set in the cheek, but it's probably more like those cute little dimple piercings... right?

Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled. "You have not laughed since your brother the Kahl Raggat was crowned by Drogo," said Irri. "It is good to see you laugh, Khaleesi."

oh no 🚩 Be honest, how many of this group are going to die? NO, WAIT! Don't tell me. Let it blind side me, otherwise I'll be sad ahead of time. This is such a cute scene though. This, I want this for her so bad, low stakes and cute friend dates. (We'll ignore everyone on this outing who's not Dany either works for her, her husband or is a slave. They can be her friends too. Multitasking.)

Dany stumbled and lost her feet. "No," she screamed, thrusting her hands out to break her fall... and Doreah caught her by the arm and wrenched her backward, so she landed on her legs and not her belly.

Doreah MVP!!!!!!

"This poisoner was the first," Ser Jorah Mormont warned him, "but he will not be the last. Men will risk much for a lordship."

Well he would have been if Bobby B hadn't once again decided to severely inconvenience everyone around him!

"And to Rhaego son of Drogo, the stallion who will mount the world, to him I also pledge a gift. To him I will give this iron chair his mother's father sat in. I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this thing."

Psh, yeah, now that it's about a personal insult to you, but not when your wife was asking for it.

"- I will kill the men in the iron suits and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak to bow down beneath the Mother of Mountains. -"

Classy. Die in a hole.

Sorry, the Drogo hate is back in full swing, like dude, just admit you weren't doing this because it's what Dany wanted, you didn't care about the Seven Kingdoms until they came after your property wife. Call her Moon of my Life all you want, but we all know this was about affection for her, it was about wounded ego for you. Creep.

[demcnsinmymind]

COLOURS .red . brown . orange . yellow . green . blue . purple . pink . black . white . teal . silver . gold . grey . lilac . metallic . matte . royal blue . strawberry red . charcoal grey . forest green . apple red . violet . navy blue . crimson . cream . mint green . bubblegum pink . sky blue . pale jade . heather grey . lavender purple . onyx .

ELEMENTS .fire . ice . water . air . earth . rain . snow . wind . moon .stars . sun . heat . cold . steam . frost . lightning . sunlight . moonlight . dawn . dusk . twilight . midnight . sunrise . sunset . dewdrops .

WEAPONS .fists . legs . sword . dagger . spear . lance . bow & arrow . hammer . shield . poison . guns . axes . throwing axes . whips . knives .throwing knives . pepper sprays . tasers . machine guns . slingshots . katanas . maces . staffs . wands . powers . magical items . magic . rocks . mud balls . claws . teeth . stealth . strategy . forehead . warhammer . polearm . flail .

MATERIALS .gold . silver . copper . platinum . titanium . rose gold . diamonds . pearls . rubies . sapphires . emeralds . amethyst . metal . iron . rust . steel . glass . wood . porcelain . paper . wool . fur . lace . leather . silk . velvet . denim . linen . cotton . charcoal . clay . stone . asphalt . brick . marble . dust . glitter . blood . dirt . mud . smoke . ash . shadow . carbonate . rubber . synthetics . ribbon . moonstone .

NATURE .grass . leaves . trees . bark . roses . daisies . sunflowers . tulips . lavender . petals . seeds . hay . sand . rocks . roots . flowers . fungi . ocean . river . frozen lake . meadow . valley .forest . desert . tundra . savanna . rain forest . caves . underwater . coral reef . beach . waves . space . clouds .mountains .snow . mist . pond .

ANIMALS .big cats . wolves .foxes . eagles . owls . falcons . hawks . swans . snakes . turtles . ducks . bugs . spiders . birds . whales . dolphins . fish . sharks . horses . cats . dogs . bunnies . penguins . crows . ravens . mice . lizards . werewolves . unicorns . pegasus . dragons . monkeys . raccoons . rats .

FOODS / DRINKS .sugar . salt . candy . bubblegum . wine . champagne . hard liquor . vodka . beer . coffee . sake . tea . spices . herbs . apples . orange . lemon . cherry . strawberry . watermelon . vegetables . fruits. meat . fish . pies . desserts . chocolate . lollies . cream . caramel . berries . nuts . cinnamon . burgers . surf ‘n ’ turf . burritos . pizza . ambrosia . eggs . milk . raspberries .

HOBBIES .music . art . watercolors . gardening . smithing . sculpting . painting . sketching . fighting . writing . composing . cooking . baking . sewing . training . dancing . acting . singing . martial arts . self - defense . war tactics . electronics . technology . cameras . video cameras . video games . computer . phone . movies . theater . libraries . books . magazines . cds . records . cassettes . piano . strings . violin . guitar . electronic guitar . bass guitar . harmonica . harp . woodwinds . brass . flute . bells . exploring . playing cards . poker chips . chess . dice . motorcycle riding . eating . sleeping . climbing . running . jogging . parkour . studying .

STYLE .lingerie . armor . cape . dress . tunic . vest . shirt . boots . ankle boots . heels . leggings . trousers . jeans . skirt . jewelry . earrings . necklace . bracelet . ring . pendant . hat . beanie hat . crown . circlet . helmet . scarf . brocade . cloaks . corsets . doublet . chest plate . gorget . bracers . belt . cravat . sash . coat . leather jacket . hood . gloves . socks . masks . mittens . cowls . braces . watches . glasses . sun glasses . straw hat . visor . eye contacts . makeup . ribbons . hoodie . sweater . converses . tennis shoes . boxers . briefs . boxer briefs . shorts . cargo . cropped pants . crop top . cuffed pants . clawed gauntlet . formal attire .

MISC .balloons . bubbles . cityscape . light . dark . candles . growth . decay . war . peace . money . power . percussion . clocks . photos . mirrors . pets . diary . journal . fairy lights . madness . sanity . sadness . happiness . optimism . pessimism . loneliness . family . friends . comrades . assistants . co - workers . enemies . loyalty . smoking . drugs . kindness . love . hugs . kisses . spring . summer . autumn . winter . farmland . countryside . suburban . village .

[miazims]

Here is today’s CC. Modelled by my sim Olivia.

CC links under the cut.

Outfit 1:

Hair: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-hairstyles-female/title/vicky-style-4-hairstyle/id/1629596/

Earrings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-earrings/title/skyler-square-hoop-earrings/id/1628322/

Lipstick: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/magic-lipstick/id/1631537/

Top: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/top-no-339/id/1631609/

Bottom: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/patreon-y2k-belted-micro-skirt/id/1624965/

Outfit 2:

Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/marco-hair-75019026

Eyeshadow

Top: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/vest-clouden/id/1631509/

Bottom: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/jade-bottoms/id/1631671/

Ring: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-rings/title/triple-diamonds-ring-mid-left/id/1631589/

Outfit 3:

Hair: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-hairstyles-female/title/moji-hair-new-mesh/id/1628099/

Lipstick: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/lipstick-n47/id/1631187/

Dress: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/ciradyl-vintage-dress-with-gold-lace/id/1631611/

Leggings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-socks/title/snowflakes-stickers-socks-category/id/1629859/

Outfit 4:

Hair: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-hair-hairstyles-female/title/long-ponytail-hairstyle-lila061222-by-s-club/id/1631555/

Earrings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-earrings/title/ruby-teardrop-earrings/id/1631018/

Eyeliner: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-eyeliner/title/lizzie-eyeliner-n-209/id/1631606/

Dress: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/chinese-dress/id/1630703/

Outfit 5:

Hair: https://www.simsfinds.com/downloads/316546/cohen-hair-sims4

Earrings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-earrings/title/ruby-teardrop-earrings-v2/id/1631019/

Eyeshadow: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-eyeshadow/title/xmas-eyeshadow-n02/id/1631628/

Top: https://www.simsfinds.com/downloads/316596/batik-shirt-babyetears-sims4

Bottom: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/leather-coated-v-front-leggings/id/1631458/

Outfit 6:

Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/marco-hair-75019026

Piercing: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-piercings/title/star-septum-piercing/id/1628326/

Blush: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-blush/title/advent-calendar-day-8-frostbite-blush/id/1630578/

Jumpsuit: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-everyday/title/emma-outfit/id/1631669/

[fangedbrbiemoved1]

COLOURS .

red .   brown .   orange .   yellow .   green . blue .   purple .   pink .   black .   white .   teal .  silver .   gold .   grey .   lilac .   metallic .   matte .   royal  blue .   strawberry  red .   charcoal  grey .   forest  green .   apple  red .   violet .   navy  blue .   crimson . cream .   mint  green .   bubblegum  pink .   sky  blue .   pale  jade .   heather  grey .   lavender  purple .   onyx .

ELEMENTS .

fire .  ice .   water .   air .  earth .   rain . snow .   wind .   moon .   stars . sun .   heat . cold .  steam .  frost .  lightning .   sunlight .   moonlight .   dawn .   dusk .   twilight .   midnight . sunrise .   sunset .   dewdrops .

WEAPONS .

fists .   legs .  sword .   dagger .   spear .   lance .   bow  &  arrow .   hammer .   shield .   poison .  guns .  axes .   throwing  axes .   whips .   knives .   throwing  knives .   pepper  sprays .  tasers .   machine  guns .   slingshots .   katanas .   maces .   staffs .  wands .   powers .   magical  items .   magic .   rocks .   mud  balls .   claws .   teeth .   stealth .   strategy .   forehead .   warhammer .   polearm .   flail .

MATERIALS .

gold .  silver .   copper .   platinum .  titanium .  rose  gold .   diamonds .   pearls .   rubies .   sapphires .   emeralds .   amethyst .   metal . iron .  rust .   steel .   glass .  wood .   porcelain .   paper .  wool .   fur .   lace .   leather .   silk .   velvet .   denim .   linen .   cotton .  charcoal .  clay .   stone .   asphalt .   brick .  marble .   dust .  glitter .   blood .   dirt .  mud .   smoke .   ash .   shadow .  carbonate .   rubber .   synthetics .   ribbon .   moonstone .

NATURE .

grass .   leaves .   trees .   bark .   roses .   daisies .   sunflowers .   tulips .   lavender .   petals .  seeds .   hay .  sand .   rocks .   roots . flowers .  fungi .   ocean .   river .   frozen  lake .   meadow .   valley .   forest .  desert .   tundra .  savanna .  rain  forest .   caves .   underwater .   coral  reef .   beach .  waves . space . clouds .   mountains .   snow .   mist .  pond .

ANIMALS .

big  cats .   wolves .   foxes .   eagles .   owls .   falcons .   hawks .   swans .   snakes .  turtles .   ducks .   bugs .   spiders .   birds .   whales .   dolphins .   fish .   sharks .   horses .   cats .   dogs .   bunnies .   penguins .  crows .   ravens .   mice .   lizards .   werewolves .   unicorns .   pegasus .   dragons .   monkeys .  raccoons .  rats .

FOODS  /  DRINKS .

sugar .  salt .  candy .   bubblegum .   wine .  champagne .   hard  liquor .   vodka .   beer .  coffee .   sake .  tea .  spices .   herbs .   apples .   orange .   lemon .   cherry .   strawberry .  watermelon .  vegetables .   fruits.  meat . fish .  pies .   desserts . chocolate . lollies .   cream .   caramel .  berries .   nuts .   cinnamon . burgers .   surf  ‘n ’  turf .   burritos .   pizza .   ambrosia .   eggs .   milk .   raspberries .

HOBBIES .

music .   art .   watercolors .   gardening .   smithing .   sculpting .   painting .   sketching . fighting .   writing .   composing .   cooking .   baking .   sewing .   training .  dancing .   acting .   singing .   martial  arts .   self - defense .  war  tactics .   electronics .   technology .   cameras .   video  cameras .   video  games .  computer .   phone .   movies .   theater .   libraries .   books .   magazines .   cds .   records .   cassettes .   piano .   strings .   violin .   guitar .  electronic  guitar .   bass  guitar .   harmonica .  harp .   woodwinds .   brass .   flute .   bells .   exploring .   playing  cards .   poker  chips .   chess .   dice .   motorcycle  riding .   eating .   sleeping .  climbing .   running .   jogging .   parkour .   studying .

STYLE .

lingerie .   armor .   cape .   dress .   tunic .   vest .   shirt .  boots .   ankle  boots .   heels .   leggings .  trousers .   jeans .  skirt .   jewelry .   earrings .   necklace .   bracelet .   ring .   pendant .   hat .   beanie  hat .   crown .   circlet .   helmet .   scarf .   brocade .   cloaks .   corsets .   doublet .   chest  plate .   gorget .   bracers .   belt .  cravat .   sash .   coat .   leather  jacket .   hood .   gloves .   socks .  masks .   mittens .   cowls .   braces .   watches .   glasses .   sun  glasses .  straw  hat .   visor .   eye  contacts .   makeup .   ribbons .   hoodie .  sweater .  converses .   tennis  shoes .   boxers .   briefs .   boxer  briefs .   shorts .   cargo .   cropped  pants .   crop  top .   cuffed  pants .   clawed  gauntlet .   formal  attire .

MISC .

balloons .   bubbles .  cityscape .   light .   dark . candles .   growth .  decay .   war .   peace .   money .  power .   percussion .   clocks .   photos .   mirrors .   pets .   diary .   journal .   fairy  lights .   madness .   sanity . sadness . happiness .   optimism .   pessimism .   loneliness .  family .   friends .   comrades .   assistants .   co - workers .   enemies .   loyalty .   smoking .  drugs .   kindness .   love .   hugs .   kisses .   spring .   summer .   autumn .   winter .   farmland .   countryside .   suburban .   village .

tagged  by   :    NO ONE      tagging  :   @mikewheelertm , @h0wled​ , @r4chelamber​ @crispyblonde​  & YOU!!!

[corruptbadge]

COLOURS .

red .   brown .   orange .   yellow .   green . blue .   purple .   pink .   black .   white .   teal .  silver .   gold .   grey .   lilac .   metallic .   matte .   royal  blue .   strawberry  red .   charcoal  grey .   forest  green .   apple  red .   violet .   navy  blue .   crimson . cream .   mint  green .   bubblegum  pink .   sky  blue .   pale  jade .   heather  grey .   lavender  purple .   onyx .

ELEMENTS .

fire .  ice .   water .   air .  earth .   rain . snow .   wind .   moon .   stars . sun .   heat . cold .  steam .  frost .  lightning .   sunlight .   moonlight .   dawn .   dusk .   twilight .   midnight . sunrise .   sunset .   dewdrops .

WEAPONS .

fists .   legs .  sword .   dagger .   spear .   lance .   bow  &  arrow .   hammer .   shield .   poison .  guns .  axes .   throwing  axes .   whips .   knives .   throwing  knives .   pepper  sprays .  tasers .   machine  guns .   slingshots .   katanas .   maces .   staffs .  wands .   powers .   magical  items .   magic .   rocks .   mud  balls .   claws .   teeth .   stealth .   strategy .   forehead .   warhammer .   polearm .   flail .

MATERIALS .

gold .  silver .   copper .   platinum .  titanium .  rose  gold .   diamonds .   pearls .   rubies .   sapphires .   emeralds .   amethyst .   metal . iron .  rust .   steel .   glass .  wood .   porcelain .   paper .  wool .   fur .   lace .   leather .   silk .   velvet .   denim .   linen .   cotton .  charcoal .  clay .   stone .   asphalt .   brick .  marble .   dust .  glitter .   blood .   dirt .  mud .   smoke .   ash .   shadow .  carbonate .   rubber .   synthetics .   ribbon .   moonstone .

NATURE .

grass .   leaves .   trees .   bark .   roses .   daisies .   sunflowers .   tulips .   lavender .   petals .  seeds .   hay .  sand .   rocks .   roots . flowers .  fungi .   ocean .   river .   frozen  lake .   meadow .   valley .   forest .  desert .   tundra .  savanna .  rain  forest .   caves .   underwater .   coral  reef .   beach .  waves . space . clouds .   mountains .   snow .   mist .  pond .

ANIMALS .

big  cats .   wolves .   foxes .   eagles .   owls .   falcons .   hawks .   swans .   snakes .  turtles .   ducks .   bugs .   spiders .   birds .   whales .   dolphins .   fish .   sharks .   horses .   cats .   dogs .   bunnies .   penguins .  crows .   ravens .   mice .   lizards .   werewolves .   unicorns .   pegasus .   dragons .   monkeys .  raccoons .  rats .

FOODS  /  DRINKS .

sugar .  salt .  candy .   bubblegum .   wine .  champagne .   hard  liquor .   vodka .   beer .  coffee .   sake .  tea .  spices .   herbs .   apples .   orange .   lemon .   cherry .   strawberry .  watermelon .  vegetables .   fruits.  meat . fish .  pies .   desserts . chocolate . lollies .   cream .   caramel .  berries .   nuts .   cinnamon . burgers .   surf  ‘n ’  turf .   burritos .   pizza .   ambrosia .   eggs .   milk .   raspberries .

HOBBIES .

music .   art .   watercolors .   gardening .   smithing .   sculpting .   painting .   sketching . fighting .   writing .   composing .   cooking .   baking .   sewing .   training .  dancing .   acting .   singing .   martial  arts .   self - defense .  war  tactics .   electronics .   technology .   cameras .   video  cameras .   video  games .  computer .   phone .   movies .   theater .   libraries .   books .   magazines .   cds .   records .   cassettes .   piano .   strings .   violin .   guitar .  electronic  guitar .   bass  guitar .   harmonica .  harp .   woodwinds .   brass .   flute .   bells .   exploring .   playing  cards .   poker  chips .   chess .   dice .   motorcycle  riding .   eating .   sleeping .  climbing .   running .   jogging .   parkour .   studying .

STYLE .

lingerie .   armor .   cape .   dress .   tunic .   vest .   shirt .  boots .   ankle  boots .   heels .   leggings .  trousers .   jeans .  skirt .   jewelry .   earrings .   necklace .   bracelet .   ring .   pendant .   hat .   beanie  hat .   crown .   circlet .   helmet .   scarf .   brocade .   cloaks .   corsets .   doublet .   chest  plate .   gorget .   bracers .   belt .  cravat .   sash .   coat .   leather  jacket .   hood .   gloves .   socks .  masks .   mittens .   cowls .   braces .   watches .   glasses .   sun  glasses .  straw  hat .   visor .   eye  contacts .   makeup .   ribbons .   hoodie .  sweater .  converses .   tennis  shoes .   boxers .   briefs .   boxer  briefs .   shorts .   cargo .   cropped  pants .   crop  top .   cuffed  pants .   clawed  gauntlet .   formal  attire .

MISC .

balloons .   bubbles .  cityscape .   light .   dark . candles .   growth .  decay .   war .   peace .   money .  power .   percussion .   clocks .   photos .   mirrors .   pets .   diary .   journal .   fairy  lights .   madness .   sanity . sadness . happiness .   optimism .   pessimism .   loneliness .  family .   friends .   comrades .   assistants .   co - workers .   enemies .   loyalty .   smoking .  drugs .   kindness .   love .   hugs .   kisses .   spring .   summer .   autumn .   winter .   farmland .   countryside .   suburban .   village .

tagged  by   :    NO ONE tagging  :   anyone who wants to do it.

[buddyfightbarista]

Stolen from @stcllariis-a ⟵⁠(⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSES AESTHETICS?

BOLD any that applies to your muse and italicize any that kind of applies to your muse. feel free to add to the list.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 . red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. amber. tan. copper. bronze. magenta.

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 . fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. darkness. shadows. nature. aether. quintessence. blood. life. death.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 . claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck. back. shoulders. legs. freckles. unseen bruises. canines. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur. sleek.

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒 . scythe. fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. lance. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. baseball bats. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 . gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 . grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒 . big cats. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. crocodiles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. deer. crows/ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. monkeys.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃/𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 . sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. water. spices. herbs. apples. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. lollies. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. surf ‘n’ turf. burritos. tacos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. ramen. chips. ice cream.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 . music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. CDs. records. vinyl. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying. video games. comics. manga.

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 . lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants. overalls.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 . balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. suffering. family. friends. strength. comrades. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village. depression. longing. sloth. pride. envy. wrath. greed. gluttony. lust. melancholy.

[petalseas]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSES AESTHETICS ?

REPOST! DON’T REBLOG.  BOLD any that applies to your muse and italicize any that kind of applies to your muse. feel free to add to the list.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 . red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. amber. tan.

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 . fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 . claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck. back. shoulders. legs. freckles. unseen bruises. canines. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur. sleek.

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒 . scythe. fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. lance. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. baseball bats. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 . gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 . grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒 . big cats. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. crocodiles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. deer. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. monkeys. bats.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃/𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 . sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. water. spices. herbs. apples. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. lollies. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. surf ‘n’ turf. burritos. tacos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 . music. art. water colours. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 . lingerie. armour. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewellery. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants. overalls.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 . balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. suffering. family. friends. strength. comrades. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village.

stolen from @lightfallls !!

tagging: ALL OF YA. I AM LAZY

[douglas15meier]

Kate Middleton Carrying Princess Diana's Jewelry

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[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

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.” 

[stcllariis-a]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSES AESTHETICS?

REPOST! DON’T REBLOG.

BOLD any that applies to your muse and italicize any that kind of applies to your muse. feel free to add to the list.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 . red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. amber. tan. copper. bronze. magenta.

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 . fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. darkness. shadows. nature. aether. quintessence. blood. life. death.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 . claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck. back. shoulders. legs. freckles. unseen bruises. canines. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur. sleek.

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒 . scythe. fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. lance. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. baseball bats. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 . gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 . grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒 . big cats. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. crocodiles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. deer. crows/ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. monkeys.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃/𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 . sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. water. spices. herbs. apples. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. lollies. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. surf ‘n’ turf. burritos. tacos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. ramen. chips. ice cream.

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 . music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. CDs. records. vinyl. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying. video games. comics. manga.

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 . lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. ankle boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. hoodie. sweater. converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top. cuffed pants. overalls.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 . balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. suffering. family. friends. strength. comrades. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village. depression. longing. sloth. pride. envy. wrath. greed. gluttony. lust. melancholy.

Tagged by: @monocerosaquae

Tagging: @hellsholyground ; @kittenstm // @chongyuniisms // @mxmoria // @frostfeathered // @ YOU

[rosyfingereddawnn]

spellbound

pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of substances, one (1) swear and a little nsfw at the end

words: 3k

summary: when in new orleans, there’s always something new and exciting to experience. when the boys take shelter in a quaint jazz lounge, they discover a hidden gem.

author’s note: this was an idea born from @timetraveller4 and her lovely mind, so thank you for that ash <3 no beta as always, and i really hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

It was Bonzo’s idea, originally.

The drummer had proposed that the band, accompanied, of course, by the infamous Richard Cole, go to a lounge for the night. See what the music scene was like, outside of their little bubble.

Touring had become almost monotonous, the endless flow of groupies blending into a hazy background of alcohol and drugs. They were in New Orleans for the night, and needed a release from the antics; a release of pressure.

Walking along the cobbled streets, lit only by tall, blinding streetlights, the hunt for the perfect spot continued. Rain twinkled like stardust upon them, landing in their hair and falling down their backs. Jimmy shivered, burrowing further into his coat, a rich navy blue, butterflies made of sparkling sequins fluttering across his shoulders. Cigarette dangling from lush, pink lips, he sighed out a faint white cloud of smoke. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and neck, and a swear burst past his lips. His curls hid emerald eyes from view like a curtain of darkness, and he shook his head.

It’ll be fun, he said. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just relax.

Robert, unaware of the glare the raven-haired guitarist was sporting, strolled ahead, eyes catching on a glowing sign, slick with rain and slightly weather-beaten. The place must be old, he thought.

Sliding closer, he gazed up at it, ocean eyes squinting against the rain that seemed to pour harder, faster, the further they ventured from their hotel. The sign, neon lights blurring into haloes of colour, read ‘The Whispering Wind’. Underneath sat a truly artistic rendition of wispy winds fading into a cloud, the pure ivory of its light cascading across the damp sidewalk like a graceful stream. You could almost feel the warmth and hospitality behind the closed doors, and Robert, whose smile seemed to light the path better than any streetlamp could, turned to his companions.

“This looks like a fine place, doesn't it?”

“Let’s go inside. Better than staying out here,” Jonesy replied, slipping past the singer to grasp at the ornate golden handle of the mahogany door. The bassist pulled the door open and stepped through, and almost immediately, he was enveloped by the comforting heat that seemed to settle into his chilled bones. “Definitely better.”

One by one, the boys stepped into the lounge, smiling as they took in the atmosphere. By the door sat a long bar, maple wood shining in the dim light filtering out from the fixtures hanging from above. Paintings of old Hollywood royalty decorated the taupe walls, while a spotlight affixed to the ceiling bathed the wooden surface of the stage against the wall in faint yellow light. The ruby red of the curtains complimented the exposed maroon brick of the opposite wall, and booths, with scarlet upholstery streaked through with pristine gold, littered the floor.

It was cramped and dimly lit, certainly not fit for the rock gods it sheltered. It was perfect.

Jimmy stood just outside the door, taking a final drag of the cigarette burning between his lips. Glancing around the cove of the entryway, his eyes locked onto a poster plastered across the wet brick of the building. The silhouette of a woman stood against a simple black background, gripping a microphone stand in manicured hands, mystery and class in the subtle curve of her lips. Half of her body was painted in a silvery light, and Jimmy stared at the long crimson dress she was wearing. Tantalizingly long legs are just visible from the slit that splits the gown.

In bold white lettering, a collection of dates are scrawled across its surface, but it’s the name that rippled across the paper that caught his eye.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Hm…”

Must be tonight’s performer, he thought. She’s gorgeous, from what Jimmy could tell; the sultry gaze, the teasing uptick of her rosy lips. The guitarist just hoped that she’s as talented as she is beautiful.

Jimmy let the cigarette in his hands drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel, smoky ash mingling with the scent of petrichor. Grasping the frigid metal of the door handle, the man’s ebony curls flew in every direction as he shivered once more. Slipping through the open door, a wave of comfort rushed over him, warmth settling into his core. The light din of unimportant conversation settled over him like a plush blanket, calming his perpetually racing mind.

Jimmy, spotting his friends at a table far back from the stage, sidled up to the bar, signalling for attention. Ordering his favourite of gin and tonic, the dark-haired guitarist walked back over to join the group, sitting down right next to Robert. The blond glanced over at him and grinned, wrapping a tanned arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a wonder you’ve stopped frowning, Pagey.”

“I was warned I’d get stuck like that, you see,” Jimmy grumbled, the hint of a smile that graced his lips shattering the image of dissatisfaction. “Hasn’t happened yet, but who knows what the future holds.”

“Ah. If it weren’t for your sunny disposition, we’d be in trouble.”

“You—”

The retort died on his tongue, and his mossy green eyes went impossibly wide.

An alluring voice, smooth and rich, rang clear and sharp through the air, charming the patrons of the lounge. The rasping tone made Jimmy’s mind go utterly blank, too entranced to react. Mingling with the droplets that danced from the black grand piano, the performer made his heart pound in his chest like a bass drum. Shaking Robert’s arm off, he turned to face the stage, and promptly forgot how to breathe.

“I put a spell on you, because you're mine. Oh, mine…”

Up on the stage, stood the most beautiful woman Jimmy had ever seen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a lovely contrast to the skin of her exposed shoulder. The woman fluttered around the stage, her dress, the colour of a midnight sky, swaying as she moved. She was full to the brim with restrained confidence: she knew she could dazzle the audience, but really, she didn't need to. They were already eating out of her palm.

Jaws hit the floor and every eye in the room was firmly trained on her, and the graceful smirk painting her features served as proof. She was a siren, and the audience her doomed admirers. Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes away through the whole performance, and his distracted clapping as she curtsied alerted his bandmates.

“You okay, Jim? Looks to me like,” Bonzo started, glancing over at Robert with mischief shining in his dark eyes, “You’ve got yourself a little crush, no?”

“I’m… She’s just—”

“Perfect? Gorgeous, talented,” Jonesy interrupted, catching the guitarist’s attention. A smug grin at home on his lips, the bassist shrugged, turning to face his friend. “And… standing right over there.”

Following the path pointed out by Jonesy’s outstretched finger, Jimmy’s eyes locked on a familiar figure, floor-length gown shimmering in the dim light. Stood at the bar, she rested her arms on the surface as she leaned closer to talk to the bartender. Throwing her head back in a genuine laugh, she bares her throat, and Jimmy’s mouth goes dry. The performer takes the drink offered to her, a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey in her manicured hands. A finger lazily traced the rim. The beautiful woman turned towards them then, locking eyes with the guitarist over her shoulder. She winked, and walked away, a ring of condensation on the tabletop all that was left of her.

“Hey, Cole,” Jimmy whispered into the silence that had fallen over the table, and turned to the man, whose only response was a telling smirk. “Would you… Could you, uh…”

“On it, boss.”

In a split second, the man shuffled away from the table, his parting gift a wink at the sable-haired guitarist.

------

As you step on stage, the crowd’s chatter continues, and you smile to yourself. Nights at The Whispering Wind were always like this: the snippets of conversation fading into a symphony of white noise. It calms you, being so used to the bustling New Orleans streets. This is a little slice of paradise, in your eyes.

You flatten down your dress, velvet soft against your hand, and gaze over to your pianist. Nodding back, he launches in, soft at first, but crescendoing soon after. His hand raised in the air, he looks over to you.

Your cue.

You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoky air, and sing your heart out. Light and shade battle for dominance as you play the audience like a fiddle. Your voice, full of lust and desire, floats around the room, and you smirk to yourself, looking at the sea of faces in front of you. Everything is hazy, the spotlights blurring your vision, but you can swear someone is staring at you. A man, it looks like. His dark hair shines in the faded light, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence and, interestingly enough, appreciation. It takes effort to tear your eyes away from him, but you succeed, and belt out the last line. Your smile rivals the bright lights shining down on you, and you curtsy. The cheers of the audience serves as your soundtrack, as you step off stage, scurrying over to the bar. It takes a special effort not to gaze at the mystery man as you pass.

“Lovely evening for a drink, isn’t it? I’ll have whiskey, neat.”

“Coming right up, Madam,” The bartender winks at you, a smile blossoming on your face. He sets the drink into your waiting hands, and leans against the counter, smirking at you kindly. “Wonderful show, tonight. You’re a talent, my dear.”

“Well, thank you,” you reply, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Your smile grows brighter, and your giggle is featherlight as it floats past your lips, “It’s what I love to do.”

Your conversation is interrupted by the sounds of whispers from behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Those eyes, the bright shade of green you had seen from the stage, were looking right back at you. He looks shy, nervous even, almost hiding behind his tawny-haired friend. From your spot at the bar, you can tell, now, just how handsome he truly is. His dark hair falls in tastefully mussed curls, and his skin looks clear, almost like porcelain. His lips are petal-pink, and look soft. His jaw is sharp, and he’s rather thin; scrawny even, but he’s still gorgeous.

Holding his gaze, you wink, and his eyes go impossibly wider. You tip the bartender and walk away, a “thank you” thrown over your shoulder. A safe distance away from the mystery man and his posse, you chance a look back, and spot a man standing from the table, patting the black-haired beauty on the back. To your surprise, he weaves through the crowd towards you.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he says, catching up to you. He smooths down his button-up shirt, and sends a charming grin your way, holding out a hand to shake. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours, if I may?”

“Richard Cole.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?” This is met by a chuckle from the man, his hand going up to stroke his dark beard.

“Well, lovely, do you see that man over there, with the black hair?” You follow his outstretched hand, and your eyes fall upon your mystery man. He’s looking back at you, hands fiddling with each other. His gaze finally drops from yours, and the tell-tale blush rising on his cheeks makes you laugh softly. “He’d love to have a chat with you.”

“If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here himself and tell me that.”

Cole chuckles, and shakes his head fondly. Glancing over at the mystery man, he waves him over. From your spot, you can see the way he approaches on shaky legs, and you smile, recognizing him instantly. With a pat on the back of the curly-haired man, Mr. Cole is gone, and you're alone together. This is going to be fun.

“What’s your name, darling?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s not every day that a world-famous musician stops by ‘The Whispering Wind’, after all.

“I-it’s Jimmy… uh, Page.” His hands, you notice, are clenched into fists, and he shuffles from foot to foot. You press closer to him, and he blushes harder, cheeks almost aflame.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. I’m—”

“You’re Y/N, aren't you? I saw the poster outside, and I thought you were beautiful,” Breath hitching as he realizes what he just said, Jimmy slaps a hand over his mouth. His emerald eyes signal that he’s embarrassed, but you can only giggle. “I only meant that—”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Jimmy’s thin hand flies up to scratch the top of his head, and his hair falls in his face, effectively blocking him from view. You can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you. I, uh… you’re an amazing vocalist. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, your stage presence was… arresting.”

“So you admit to staring at me?”

“Well, I… You…”

I’m just playing, Jimmy,” Your laugh twinkles as it fills the silence, and Jimmy’s lips quirk up in a small smile upon hearing it. “If anything, I should be the one staring. Led Zeppelin’s a big deal, y’know.”

“You… you recognized me?”

“You boys aren't exactly rising stars. Being as famous as you are, I didn’t think you’d be this humble.”

He chuckles under his breath, and looks up at you through his eyelashes. It seems he’s grown more confident now, and you smile, gaze drifting down to his mouth. If you leaned in, just a little, your lips would meet, and you could finally know if his are as soft as they look.

“We’re in New Orleans for another day, uh… I was wondering if, well… God, I’m terrible at this.”

“Jimmy—”

“Could I… take you out, sometime?” His halting, nervous speech only makes him more endearing, and you gaze into his eyes as he squirms. Jimmy sputters, trying to take his words back, but you silence him with a hand on his bicep. Lean muscle ripples under your hand, and you smile at him.

“Jimmy.”

“Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I? J-just forget what I said, I don’t know what—”

“It’s—”

“Seriously, it was probably a mistake to ask you that. I mean,” Jimmy’s head droops, hair shielding him once more, and you can’t help the fondness that rushes through you. Unaware of the smile that nearly splits your cheeks, he presses on, hands flying back and forth to prove his point, “You’re absolutely divine, and I’m just— Uh...”

Close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, you put a hand to his shoulder, wiping off imaginary dust from his coat. Your fingers catch slightly on the bedazzled butterflies that adorn it. His eyes follow your hands as they dance and twirl across the fabric, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath echo in the slight space between the two of you. A lone finger finally finds his chin, and you lift his head to look at you.

“Eyes on me, chéri.”

His gorgeous green eyes meet yours from under his curly fringe, and you push a stray lock to rest behind his ear. His cheeks redden even more, something you hadn’t thought possible, as he stares into your eyes.

Pressing close to him, his scent surrounds you, and your lips brush against the curve of his ear.

“Tu veux un rendez-vous? Tu dois travailler pour cela, chéri.”

You pull away, and he is left with the ghost of soft lips against his cheek, the scent of your perfume floating after you as you walk away. Jimmy stands in place, too stunned to even react, until a hand at his back makes him jump. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots his bandmates, smirks at home on their faces. Jonesy pipes up, looking him up and down.

“You okay, Page? You’re looking pretty red…”

“It seems, and correct me if I’m wrong,” interjects Bonzo, as he slips an arm around Jimmy, guiding him back to their table. Jimmy slumps into a chair, stunned into silence, a hand raising to his cheek. Bonzo chuckles, and continues, “Like your crush just got a lot more serious.”

------

Safe behind the door of his hotel room, Jimmy trudges to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Slipping out of his clothes, that he folds neatly on the bed, the guitarist steps in. Steam curls in tendrils around the small bathroom, and Jimmy takes a deep breath. Hand settling on his cock, he begins stroking it slowly; experimentally. The pleasure feels incredible, euphoric even, as his mind drifts to the intriguing woman he had met just an hour ago. Her image is seared into his mind, and every touch she had given him felt like a wildfire licking at his skin. His groans match the speed of his hand as he speeds up, gripping the tiled wall for support.

The scent of her perfume, something floral, unplaceable, lingered in his nose, and he wishes to see her again. To have that scent invade all of his senses, again. Jimmy’s whimpers, quiet, yet keening, echo off the walls, as he reaches his peak. He imagines her there with him, raking a hand roughly through his hair, her hands roaming every inch of skin they could reach.

His muscles twitch as warmth spills over his hand, a soft grunt slipping past his gritted teeth. He’s in ecstasy, something better than any drug. Something he doesn’t ever want to come down from.

As he recovers from the high he had just experienced, his gasping breaths fill the space. Knees trembling from exertion, he grips onto the slippery shower wall, and whispers into the steam that fills the room.

“Y/N…”

------

(the french sentence: you want a date? you have to work for that, darling)

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - part 6 - Makeovers and little sisters

guess who wrote this part last night and forgot about it the entire day~ me

 your outfit:

=

Mal stepped over a pile of green sludge as she carefully dodged a passing isle resident, they turned to snarl at her but gasped as she turned back and bared her teeth, forcing her bit of magic left in her to let her eyes glow.

The resident bolted off, not wanting to stay around the daughter of Maleficent any longer. Mal sighed, shaking her head slightly to rid of the small headache that had suddenly appeared.

“note to self, glowy eyes hurt here” she muttered to herself, she had forgotten that pushing that bit of magic up into her head had caused her headaches on the isle.

She stopped in front of Curl up and Dye, brow-raising at the sign on the door.

‘closed until midnight’

She huffed, glancing behind her to see if anyone was watching before pushing open the door and stepping inside. Immediately the low sound of music bombarded her senses, the smell of chemicals swirling around her, and the vision of paint splatters all over the walls and floors making Mal laugh.

Dizzy had been busy while she had been gone. She drew back the plastic curtains used to keep cold in those big ass refrigerators at grocery stores and peered into the hair salon, smiling as she watched dizzy spin around with her broom and dance while she swept up hair from the night before.

Mal got a good look at Dizzy’s attire as she moved about the room, dark forest green overall shorts splattered with dye and paint with multicolored pins decorating the torso, faint purple ripped leggings, a dull faded pink t-shirt underneath, bright yellowish gold-painted gloves with metalwork bits and bobs glued on, dark green sneakers with painted gold fabric laces, her family crest ring on her left pointer finger, and her usual glasses and headphones on her head. Mal smiled again, remembering Evie always trying to encourage Dizzy to create her own style than to always wear that sickly green and yellowish colored dresses her mother always made her wear.

It had looked like she had followed Evie's word. Dizzy did one last spin, her eyes going wide as she finally spotted Mal. “MAL!” she squealed, making the older teen wince a bit from the high pitch. Dizzy ripped off her headphones from her ears and tossed them around her neck, giving a wide grin at the blonde-haired Mal. “is Evie back too?!

Mal gave the young teen a shrug and shook her head “no, just me” she hummed, suppressing the smile she wanted to give to dizzy as the girl's shoulders dropped in disappointment. She took another look around the salon, letting one of her old smirks grow on her face “you’ve really gone all out here….looks good” Dizzy’s downturned eyes turned to a bright grin as she looked around at her work.

“forgot you guys don’t open till midnight….think you can break a few rules?” Dizzy pursed her lips and set the broom on an empty chair, walking over to Mal and grabbing onto her long-curled hair.

“the blonde with purple tips?” Dizzy sighed, giving Mal a bored look “completely washes out your face and I can't even tell your skin and hair apart” Mal let out a little snort and shook her head. Dizzy grabbed her arm and lead her to one of the empty salon chairs and spun her around. “how far can I go?” she hummed, leaning on her palm and smirking down at Mal.

Mal shrugged “honestly, do whatever, just make it….me” she hummed, smiling as Dizzy squealed in excitement and walked over to her huge bottles of chemicals and picked up the dark bubbling purple one. She spun around, grinning as Mal gave her a slightly nervous look.

“let's do this” Dizzy giggled, skipping over to Mal and setting the dye onto the table next to the chair and grinning down at her. Mal pressed her lips together tightly as she looked up at the scheming young teen.

“don’t burn me” she muttered, closing her eyes and slumping in the chair, preparing to let Dizzy do whatever she wanted.

“I won't ~”

=

You grunted as you struggled to put on the black ripped up skinny jeans you had bought two months ago, while they fit perfectly it was always a hassle to get them past your hips.

“come on you stupid- AH!” you tumbled over and hit the carpet with a loud thump, leaving you on the floor groaning in pain.

You shook your head and pulled at the hem of your jeans, laughing in victory as they finally slid over your hips and were buttoned over your stomach.

You stood from the floor and grabbed your black combat boots, quickly shoving them on and tying them. You paused, looking down and cursing, the entire time you had somehow forgotten your shirt.

You zipped up the boots and rushed over to your dresser, pausing as you saw one of Harry's rare-non ripped tank top hoodies sitting folded in your dresser. You snorted as a dumb thought came to mind, but decided to go through with it.

“time to cosplay Harry” you laughed to yourself, sliding on the large tank top and flipping the hood down. You grabbed your skull belt and slid it into the pants loops and buckled it. You stopped for a moment, looking at yourself in the standing mirror sitting next to your dresser, and crossed your arms. “It's missing something” you hummed, tilting your head.

It hit you a moment later and you grabbed your copy of Harry and Gil's dorm room key and bolted across the hallway, unlocking their door and running over to Harry's closet, grabbing one of his old black and red leather isle jackets. You smiled at the spray panted Hook symbol on the back and slid the slightly heavy jacket on, it somehow fit you perfectly, but you guessed it was because it was one of his jackets from when he was younger, and more around your size.

You grabbed one of his sets of leather gloves and slid them on, taking it upon yourself to also raid his ring stash. You smirked at the tentacle ring, and slid it onto your pinkie, it was probably your favorite one besides his ruby ring with the black band.

You looked into Harry's mirror and smirked, now you were ready. Your shoulders dropped as something silver and metal caught your eye in the mirror, you spun around, gasping as you saw Harrys hook sitting on his bed, next to his sword. “that idiot” you groaned, smacking your forehead with your palm and walking over to his bed and grabbing the precious hook and his sword. You slid the hook through your belt loop and looked around for his sword's sheath.

You found it resting against his dresser, you grabbed it and slid the sword into it, before taking off your jacket and slipping the sheath around your shoulders and letting it rest on your hip. You slid the jacket back on and bolted out of his dorm, running to Evie and Mals where the blue-haired teen was making Bens isle gear.

“Guess what the fucking idiot left!” you yelled, taking the hook from your belt and waving it in the hair. Gil and Jay face palmed as they locked their eyes onto the weapon.

Evie took one look and groaned, holding her face in her hands and shaking her head “and from the looks of it he left his sword too” she sighed, pointing at the cutlass that rested on your hip.

“fucking yep!” you yelled, waving your hands in the air and beginning to pace the room “so now he has no fucking weapons with him and I have no fucking clue what's going to happen to him! What happens if someone finds him and he can’t-“

“(y/n)!” Gil yelled, stopping you in your tracks by stepping in front of you and grabbing your shoulders “Harry knows how to take care of himself, he'll be just fine, he also knows how to stay out of trouble…he never does it but he knows how.” He patted your arm and released you, turning to Evie as she asked him to grab some extra gold fabric.

You let out a raspberry and flopped on Mal's bed, staring up at the ceiling as anxiety started to burrow into your mind. You did your best to ignore it since Harry was very much capable of taking care of himself.

He would be just fine.

Just fine.

=

Dizzy swung the chair back around, facing the once again purple-haired Mal towards the shattered mirrors. Mal stood, leaning down to look into one of the cracked shards and squinted at herself.

Her once mid-back length blonde purple-tipped hair had been dyed a lighter-toned purple than her natural color, now just at her collar bones in a blunt cut with her bangs in a side part and the right-side cascading down her face and brushing against her lashes.

ref:

She looked like her but….there was something missing. She took a deep breath and hardened her features, her eyes sharpening and her jaw locking into a grimace “there I am” she hummed, standing up tall and spinning around to look at Dizzy, who grinned and threw her arms open in celebration.

“Voila!”

“Voila” Mal hummed in a dry tone, pulling out a stash of cash she had taken before she left Auradon and handed a $50 to Dizzy, who stared wide-eyed at Mal. “for me?” she gasped, gently taking the cash and holding it close to her chest.

“yeah,” Mal smirked, cocking her hip and crossing her arms “you earned it” Mal watched the younger teen as she skipped over to the register, only to be stopped by a black leather-gloved hand.

“hand it over you runt” Davy growled, his dark blue eyes staring threateningly into Dizzy’s. Jack the monkey giving the young vk a sharp grin. Dizzy’s shoulders dropped as she handed over the once new $50 and pouted as Davy turned to the register counter and tapped it with his knuckle. “the rest of it too, don’t want the crew trashin’ the place eh?”

Dizzy kept her eye on Jack as she walked around the counter and opened the register, taking what little money was left inside and placing it into Davys open palm. He hummed, giving a taunting bow to Dizzy and turning to leave.

“Considering you don’t got a crew I assume that your running errands for some dolt captain?” Mal taunted, smirking as Davy slowly turned to glare at her.

“well well, look whose back” he purred, walking closer to her and lifting Jack to sit on one of the empty chairs “how exciting!”

“…” Mal just rose her brow, moving her wrist slightly to unlodge her switchblade from her sleeve.

“and for your information, I run under the orders of Uma now~” he chuckled, reaching forward and brushing his fingers against Mal's hair “and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I rough up her little enemy huh Jack?” Jack bounced excitedly and screeched, Davy yelped loudly as Mal suddenly grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his torso, pulled him up against her chest, and shoved her knife very close to the artery in his throat.

“touch me again and Uma will be down a man” she growled, feeling the headache return as her eyes glowed. Davy kept his eyes locked on hers, a drop of sweat trailing from his brow.

She slowly released Davy's arm and pushed him away from her, letting out a cold cackle as he stumbled over a chair and some of Dizzy’s products spilled over him. He sat up, his hair covered in pink and green shampoo as he glared at her. “this ain't over yet you imp” he snarled, holding out his hand for Jack.

The monkey leaped onto his arm and scuttled up to his shoulder, curling his tail around the pirate teen's neck. “you'll be sorry” he huffed, stomping out of the salon with a screeching monkey in his ear.

Mal rolled her eyes, walking over to Dizzy and tossing the cash she had pickpocketed back from Davy to the younger teen. “oh!” Dizzy gasped, the bright grin that had disappeared with Davy’s appearance coming back to light “thank you!”

“don’t mention it” Mal hummed looking in the mirror shards again and fluffing up her hair “oh and by the way” she walked close to Dizzy, leaning down to whisper in the girl's ear “Harrys here too, but don’t worry if you see him, he won't steal from you” Dizzy gave her an odd look “just wanted to let you know so you don’t freak out?” the younger teen slowly nodded and placed the cash into the register.

“Alright then, I’ll-where are you going?” Dizzy asked, watching ask Mal grabbed her backpack and made her way to the main door.

“back to my apartment, got nothing to do other to be there” Mal sighed, waving Dizzy goodbye and walking out of the salon, smirking as the residents that were walking around realized who she was, and scrambled to get out of her way.

She held her head high as she walked back to the hideout, yes, she might have been on the hell-like prison isle again, but she felt freer here than she had been in the past 4 months in Auradon.

=

Harry carefully looked around his empty dark apartment, not knowing if someone had claimed it after he left. He looked to his right, seeing one of his extra swords sitting by the door. He picked it up and flipped it in his hands, continuing to walk the large two-room apartment and keeping quiet to hear for any intruders.

“YOU’RE BACK!” Harry let out a yelp as someone slammed into his back and tackled him to the floor. He let out a low groan as the person who had tackled him giggled as she sat on his back.

“Hey CJ” he muttered, lifting his head and looking over his shoulder to see his little sister grinning down at him, her brown eyes alight with mischief. “aye, I’m back”

“haha! I told Harriet you were waiting for the right moment to strike! So where is it?! Where’s the wand” she started to palm around his jacket, searching for one of the only things that could break the barrier surrounding the isle.

Harry sat up, knocking CJ off his back and moving into his butt, crossing his legs and leaning against his knees “I’m not here fer tha’ CJ, in fact, tha’s not the plan anymore” CJ stopped in her attempt to continue searching his person, sitting back on her heels and staring at him with wide eyes.

Harry waited for CJ to yell at him for betraying her, but when she only stared at him in shock, he took his chance to explain everything. “look, CJ, I don’t have a way ta explain why I decided to turn meh back on evil, but I did, and I don’t regret it” he sighed, reaching out and holding onto CJs shoulders, watching as she slowly started to shake 

“but I promised five months ago I would get more kids off and that’s been unfortunately ignored by the council and beasty boy. I came here ta tell yeh I haven’t forgotten about yeh or Harriet, that I’m still going ta get yeh off the isle and away from da, I won't break meh promise to either of yeh.” CJ grabbed his arms and slowly took his hands off her shoulders, her eyes drifting to the floor.

“…it was that prissy Auradon girl wasn’t it” CJ snapped, her eyes snapping back up to glare into his “she turned you, made you go all goody two shoes” she snarled, yelling as she tried to stand but Harry wrapped his arms around her, easily pulling her back to the ground and into his lap “Lemme go you traitor!!! I trusted you! You were supposed to free us al-mmf!” Harry covered her mouth, shushing her.

“shut up! Let me explain what I can CJ, yes, (y/n) is one of the reasons I turned my back on evil, but she is NOT a prissy Auradon girl, she's one of the most badass lassies I've ever known, and I love her!” CJ stopped, slowly turning her head to look at him with wide eyes “I know yeh think I've betrayed yeh, but I didn’t, I betrayed da, that was it.” He stressed, shaking CJ lightly to get the point across “I realized I didn’t want da to be free, he’s a horrible person CJ, he deserves ta be here, but yeh don’t, Harriet doesn’t either, we”

 he pointed between the two of them “are not responsible for da’s actions and don’t deserve ta be punished fer what he’s done. Beasty boy agrees, and I've been trying for the last five months to get yeh and Harriet off the isle. I promise” he pulled CJ into a tight hug, hoping to convince her that he hadn’t betrayed her, or abandoned her. “I never meant ta leave you here”

It was a few moments of tense silence before CJs smaller arms wrapped around Harry's neck, her head coming to rest in the spot between his shoulder and neck “I believe you” she muttered, sniffing lightly. She and Harry sat in silence for a few moments, before CJ spoke again “you’ve changed.”

“fer the better” Harry muttered back “I’m still yer brother, and I haven’t changed in the ways yeh truly knew me, but I’m not the same as I was 6 months ago” he pulled back, giving his baby sister a soft smile, one she had only seen a few times in her life. She continued to stare at him for another moment before one of her usual shit-eating grins spread across her face. Harry mentally groaned as CJ tipped forward and shoved him to the ground

“Just because you changed big bwudda~” she teased, saying his title in a baby voice “Don’t mean the way I mess with you will….please tell me you still steal stuff? Like-you didn’t go full goody two shoes?” CJ pleaded, crossing her arms on his chest and pouting at him.

Harry snorted and  pushed her off of him, sitting up and smirking at her “you do!” CJ cheered, throwing her hands up in the air and throwing them around his torso “what's your biggest score?!”

“uhhhh, beasty boys crown” Harry smiled, remembering when he and (y/n) had decided that Ben's crown was a good thing to steal at 1 am when they were delirious from not sleeping. “no.way” CJ laughed, slapping him on the arm to encourage him to tell the story “what made you-?”

“(y/n) ‘n I were really tired from our history report at 1 am so she just suggested we take his crown and I agreed” Harry shrugged, snickering as CJ started to giggle so hard, she clutched her sides.

“ooooh my hades! That’s amazing” she snorted, letting herself fall on her side and grin up at Harry through teary eyes “…anything else?”

“(y/n) stole FGs wand a couple times?” Harry offered, falling back slightly as CJ sat up suddenly and grabbed his shoulders.

“SHE WHAT? WHY DID YOU KEEP THIS AMAZING INFORMATION FROM ME?! You want me to like her dont ya?! that’s all you had to say! I love her already when are you marrying her?” Harry felt his face flush and he slapped off CJs hands.

“I-CJ! We’ve-it’s only been six months since we started dating?! I only just admitted to myself that I love ‘er” CJ rolled her eyes.

“blah blah blah, those boradon heroes marry each other after knowing each other for five minutes, you’ve got six months, just use moms ring for her or something” Harry facepalmed and shook his head.

“CJ, I haven’t even told (y/n) tha’ I love ‘er yet, chill” CJ pouted and shoved at his shoulder.

“coward, she sounds awesome, and yet you wait to snatch her up, wait too long and I’ll lose a dope ass sister-in-law” Harry just stared at her blankly and pushed her face away from him.

“Alright, I’m done talking about tha’ ta yeh, where’s Harriet? I need ta talk ta ‘er too” CJ shrugged and stood from the floor, dusting her long scarlet jacket off.

“dunno, last I saw her was at school” Harry crossed his arms and rose his brow. “okay okay, she's hanging around her ship, the other side of Uma’s side of the Warf, the two had a truce for a couple months before well…” she gestured to him “you didn’t come back” Harry’s shoulders dropped and he shook his head.

“I didn’t mean ta leave fer so long, but beasty boy was distracted and the council was being assholes, I couldn’t do much about it” CJ rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder.

“and you’ve already apologized about it….which is weird and never ever do it again, or I will stab you” she snarked, giving him a sharp grin and spinning around towards his front door. “Harriet’s busy right now so you’ll have to wait until she's done with it”

“wha’ is she doin’?” Harry sighed, following after CJ and leaning against the doorway.

“uhhhh captain crew stuff, dunno, she didn’t let me hang around and stuck the twins on me” she pouted, glaring off at the building in front of his.

“Sterling n’ Skipper? How are they?” he asked, smiling as CJ gave him a simple thumbs up.

“They good….as good as a Smee kid can be, Harriet’s taken to make sure everyone knows they are under the Hook family’s protection, not even Davy messes with them.” Harry uncrossed his arms and his jaw clicked.

“Davy?” he muttered; he had been wondering about what the son of Barbossa was doing “what about Davy?” CJ sighed and gave him a look.

“He’s Uma’s first mate….” she waited for his reaction, winching as Harry's icy blue eyes turned dark and he clicked his jaw again.

“….Uma thinks I left ‘er don’t she?” he muttered, looking down at his shoes and gritting his teeth.

“yeah….” CJ hummed, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets as she rocked on her heels, watching as Harry clenched his fists so hard they shook “I’m guessing you’re gonna go talk to Uma now?”

“aye” he muttered, turning and grabbing his extra sword again, looking for its sheath “I’ll see yeh later”

CJ nodded and turned, quickly going down the stairs of the building and heading back to Facilier’s arcade to hang with Freddie. “don’t let dad see you!” she yelled behind her shoulder, nodding to herself in satisfaction as Harry yelled back.

“don’t plan on letting ‘im even know I’m ‘ere!”

CJ disappeared into the alleys, leaving Harry to finish gearing up and get ready to head to the chip shop.

He needed to explain something to his oldest friend.

-end of part 6-

Here it is~ part 6, imma keep this little explanation note thing short and just say, I know CJ turned her opinion around on (y/n) and Harry being “better” pretty quickly, but really, (or at least hopeful I've made it come across clearly) Harry hasn’t changed much, the only thing about him that’s different is that he has better coping mechanisms, mentally healthier, and doesn’t steal as much as he used to. And CJ would love anyone who steals from Ben and FG, no doubt.

Yes, I changed Mal's hairstyle for D2 cuz I hate that damn pink wig and it's cut so much, so I made my own hairstyle. Also, I hope I made Mal actually intimidating in the little Mal vs Davy thing because in the OG version with Mal vs Harry she's JUST kitten pouting at him as if it’s doing anything. So, I hope I did her justice while also showing that she's still softer due to being in Auradon. (but only for Dizzy)

Also, Davy and Harry will officially meet (or reunite) next chapter, hold on to your butts! It's gonna be a rocky ride! (don’t worry bout Harry against Davy tho, Harry’s been eating actual food so he’s physically much stronger now and could easily kick Davy’s ass even without his extra sword)

also first fic/chapter of the year~

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👑 ~ • ♕ Fill this out as if your character was royalty/nobility! ♕ • ~ 👑 

♕ 𝐵𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓈 ♕

Full Name: Tenma Urimoto Title(s): Black Jaguar, Demonic Tortured, Demonic Unleashed, Head of the Protectorate Battallion Gender: Male Age: 20 Species: Human infused with negative energy/abilities. Kingdom Name: Avalon Position: King/Queen | Crown Prince(heir)/Crown Princess(heiress) | Prince/Princess | Archduke/Archduchess | Duke/Duchess | Lord/Lady | Marquess/Marchioness | Earl/Countess Zodiac: aquarius | aries | cancer | capricorn | gemini | leo | libra | pisces | sagittarius | scorpio | taurus (I can’t remember his birthday now, sadge)

♕ 𝒫𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓉𝓈 ♕

Build: twig | bony | slender | average | athletic | curvy | chubby | obese Hair Color(s): white | grey | blonde | brunette | red | ginger | black | other Hair Length: bald | ear length | shoulder length | mid-back length | mid-thigh length | knee length  ankle length | rapunzel Hair Style(s): straight | curly | wavy | simple braid | extravagant braid | ponytail | twintails | single bun | twin buns | other Eye Color(s): brown | blue | green | black | grey | hazel | heterochromia | other (Red) Eye Size: are your eyes even open? | very thin  thin | average | wide | very wide | dinner plates Skin Color: pale | fair | olive | tan | brown | dark | other Height: under 3 foot | 3-4 foot | 4-5 foot | 5-6 foot | 6-7 foot | above 7 foot Weight: under 100 pounds | 100-150 pounds | 150-200 pounds | 200-250 pounds | above 250 pounds Scars?: N/A Note-able Features?: N/A Tattoos?: N/A

♕ 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 ♕

Clothing Style: medieval wears | evening attire | mermaid dresses | floral gowns | regency attire | victorian gowns/victorian suits | rococo gowns/baroque costumes | cocktail attire | tea dresses | suit & ties | military uniforms | armor Headwear: tiaras | crowns | circlets | floral crowns | flower(s) | hats | hairpins | ribbons | bows | hairbands | feathers | headdresses | none Colors: pink | red | orange | yellow | green | blue | purple | black | grey | white | rainbow Accessories: bracelets/watches | rings | necklaces | earrings | bows | scarfs | gloves | sunglasses | belts | piercings | brooch/pins | cuff links | pocket watches | none Hand-Held Accessories: folding fans | handbags/purses | parasols | handkerchief | staff-scepter | none Metals: gold | silver | bronze | copper | platinum | white gold | rose gold | steel Gemstones: amethyst | aquamarine | diamond | emerald | garnet | jade | lapis lazuli | onyx | opal | pearl | peridot | ruby | sapphire | topaz

♕ 𝒟𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝑒 ♕  

Gatherings: large balls | small balls | masquerades | large tea parties | small tea parties | banquets | holidays | seasonal events | open to the public | higher classes only | lower classes only Favored Snacks: finger sandwiches | cake slices | cupcakes | maroons | cookies | eclairs | creampuffs | meringues | chocolates | muffins | puddings | tarts | fruits | vegetables | breads Favored Teas: black | white | green | earl grey | english breakfast | irish breakfast | oolong | jasmine | peppermint | herbal | raspberry | pomegranate | peach | floral | bubble | coffee is better (Idfk I never looked into what he likes in TEA) Pets: cats | dogs | birds | hamsters | rabbits | snakes | spiders | horses | farm animals | something exotic (Jaguars) | none Make-up?: face primer | eye primer | lip primer | eye shadow | lipstick/lipgloss | foundation | concealer | face powder | rouge/blush | mascara | eyebrow pencil/eyebrow powder | nail polish | none Residence: medieval stone keep | 11th century styled fantasy castle | gothic architecture | japanese styled castle | 18th century french chateau | modern english palace

♕ 𝐵𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓈 ♕

Full Name: Crown Princess Harriet, of the Divine Lands Title(s): ??? Gender: Female Age: 19-20 Species: Ethereal Kingdom Name: The Divine Lands Position: King/Queen | Crown Prince(heir)/Crown Princess(heiress) | Prince/Princess | Archduke/Archduchess | Duke/Duchess | Lord/Lady | Marquess/Marchioness | Earl/Countess Zodiac: aquarius | aries | cancer | capricorn | gemini | leo | libra | pisces | sagittarius | scorpio | taurus (I can’t remember hers either)

♕ 𝒫𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓉𝓈 ♕

Build: twig | bony | slender | average | athletic | curvy | chubby | obese Hair Color(s): white | grey | blonde | brunette | red | ginger | black | other Hair Length: bald | ear length | shoulder length | mid-back length | mid-thigh length | knee length  ankle length | rapunzel Hair Style(s): straight | curly | wavy | simple braid | extravagant braid | ponytail | twintails | single bun | twin buns | other Eye Color(s): brown | blue | green | black | grey | hazel | heterochromia | other (Red) Eye Size: are your eyes even open? | very thin  thin | average | wide | very wide | dinner plates Skin Color: pale | fair | olive | tan | brown | dark | other Height: under 3 foot | 3-4 foot | 4-5 foot | 5-6 foot | 6-7 foot | above 7 foot Weight: under 100 pounds | 100-150 pounds | 150-200 pounds | 200-250 pounds | above 250 pounds Scars?: N/A Note-able Features?: Sometimes glowing eyes. Tattoos?: N/A

♕ 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 ♕

Clothing Style: medieval wears | evening attire | mermaid dresses | floral gowns | regency attire | victorian gowns/victorian suits | rococo gowns/baroque costumes | cocktail attire | tea dresses | suit & ties | military uniforms | armor Headwear: tiaras | crowns | circlets | floral crowns | flower(s) | hats | hairpins | ribbons | bows | hairbands | feathers | headdresses | none Colors: pink | red | orange | yellow | green | blue | purple | black | grey | white | rainbow Accessories: bracelets/watches | rings | necklaces | earrings | bows | scarfs | gloves | sunglasses | belts | piercings | brooch/pins | cuff links | pocket watches | none Hand-Held Accessories: folding fans | handbags/purses | parasols | handkerchief | staff-scepter | none Metals: gold | silver | bronze | copper | platinum | white gold | rose gold | steel Gemstones: amethyst | aquamarine | diamond | emerald | garnet | jade | lapis lazuli | onyx | opal | pearl | peridot | ruby | sapphire | topaz

♕ 𝒟𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝑒 ♕  

Gatherings: large balls | small balls | masquerades | large tea parties | small tea parties | banquets | holidays | seasonal events | open to the public | higher classes only | lower classes only Favored Snacks: finger sandwiches | cake slices | cupcakes | maroons | cookies | eclairs | creampuffs | meringues | chocolates | muffins | puddings | tarts | fruits | vegetables | breads Favored Teas: black | white | green | earl grey | english breakfast | irish breakfast | oolong | jasmine | peppermint | herbal | raspberry | pomegranate | peach | floral | bubble | coffee is better (Idfk about hers either) Pets: cats | dogs | birds | hamsters | rabbits | snakes | spiders | horses | farm animals | something exotic  | none Make-up?: face primer | eye primer | lip primer | eye shadow | lipstick/lipgloss | foundation | concealer | face powder | rouge/blush | mascara | eyebrow pencil/eyebrow powder | nail polish | none Residence: medieval stone keep | 11th century styled fantasy castle | gothic architecture | japanese styled castle | 18th century french chateau | modern english palace

Tagged By : @whitecrowns-blackthrones

Tagging : Anyone who wants to do this!