#band—psycho drabbles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maccreadysbaby · 1 month ago

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Project: Killcode Drabbles

tw: mentions of major character death, angst, cursing, maccreadysbaby’s first f bomb im so sorry

wanna read the extended fic? here’s the table of contents!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT PART OF BENTLEY’S MAIN STORYLINE, THIS IS THE NEXT SEGMENT OF BENTLEY’S ROBIN AU CREATED HERE

I’m so excited about this andnksndnxjxjd

JASON WAS GETTING REALLY SICK OF THE ANGRY BROODING FAMILY BULLSHIT.

Yeah, that was rich coming from him, the king of all bullshit angry and brooding. But it was different this time, somehow. Different because it wasn’t just him who was off the rails; because now he — Jason Todd: appointed-psycho, murderer, and actual crime lord — was the only one who gave a single shit about maintaining at least a semblance of togetherness within their bad excuse for a family.

His job was to be the black sheep — it always had been; that was who he was. That was Jason. That was what he was and what he would always be.

And now, living in a time when it was backwards, like they were all black sheep or something, was only working to piss him off all the way to hell and back.

Life had been good. Hell, life had been the best it had ever been for any of them. So good Jason often wondered if he’d wake up in the cave dressed as robin with a mortal wound only to be told he was hopped up on the good drugs. Like a nasty routine of disbelief and pinching himself to prove he was real, life was… life had been… amazing.

And then Dickwing went and got himself killed.

(Yes, Jason would always be passive aggressive about it to keep everything else that came with those thoughts at bay.)

After that, the world fell off of whatever pinpoint it balanced on, the celestial energies of the stars or whatever that kept life going the way it was supposed to vanished out of thin air, and all the remaining Waynes collectively became a not-so-merry band of living, breathing disasters.

Bruce had turned back into the man he was a long time ago. This cold, distant presence that lurked in the shadows of his own home and carried an aura around menacing enough that it could probably scare off a pack of rabid wolves. It was strange — the change between the man Bruce was and the man he had reverted to. He gave up the cowl and handed it off to Tim with nothing more than an exasperated sound and a look of distaste. He handed off everything he was in a moment's notice with no remorse, without a single thought toward the people that needed him, or the empire he built, or the morals he put in place. It was almost frightening, in a way. Jason would rather him be a ball of absolute hellfire and rage as opposed to the cold, absent, shadowy figure he’d become, because at least hellfire and rage was something he could work with.

Alas, Red Hood found it in his own best interest to stay the hell away from him.

Tim was also changing, though into something both new and old. With the name of Batman now looming over his head, he became nothing more than an archive for casefies and a living, breathing machine. He drowned himself in work, nightlife work and WE work, just to ignore everything else. And yeah, the kid was good at being Batman — he was good at getting the jobs done, at hammering out plans and calculating routes and taking down rings and disarming threats and all the things Gotham would always need. Scarily good at it. He always had been, but now, he did it, not out of passion, but necessity. He did it as a routine, a ritual, to keep himself distracted. Yeah, Jason saw something new in him, but he also saw that kid from Bristol who told all the adults to screw off because he could take care of himself, of that teenager who worked himself sick at Wayne Enterprises just because he knew he could. A volatile kind of self-hatred-fueled independence they’d worked so hard to train out of him.

He didn’t rest. He didn’t eat. He didn’t talk to anyone. If he ever crashed, it was in the cave where he got a few measly hours of sleep, and all the worrying signs of the habits Tim had long since overcome were all back in full force. Isolation, dissociation, anorexia, depression, and a slew of new ones, too.

And why the hell was Jason the only one that could work himself up enough to give a damn?

Cass vanished. Stephanie went off on her own to think. Duke went to be with his uncle, because his uncle had common sense, not a popular trait among Wayne’s. Barbara retreated to her own family. Alfred was still around, and still doing what he always did, perhaps the one taking Dick’s death in the most normal, typical way. He didn’t dare leave the manor, though the change and grief and age and stress of everyone else was starting to catch up to him, and nobody but Jason cared to talk to him or ask him anything anymore. He was getting less lively, less determined.

Of all the family, though, Damian’s reaction to Dick's death was the one that surprised him the most. The kid was close to him — everyone knew it. They’d Batmanned and Robinned together and everything. Jason had mostly expected him to go into a fit of homicidal rage — y’know, fall back to his roots, like they all had, but he didn’t. He did the complete opposite.

He was only seventeen, and the day Dick died was the only time Jason had ever seen him act his age. Instead of murdering everyone in his immediate vicinity, or maiming his family to expel his grief, Damian had…

Cried.

Which was kind of scary, if Jason were being honest, because it was Damian. Damian didn’t just do that kind of thing. But while everyone else was busy reliving old habits and turning into nineties emo boys, Damian just… cried. And cried. And grieved. And cried. And the world was falling apart and Bruce stopped being Batman and Tim took on the cowl and Damian just cried and of course Jason was the only one who gave a damn then, too. And maybe he was in the wrong for not doing anything, or trying to help. But nobody else had done anything, either, and Jason wasn't exactly in a stable enough headspace at that time to play Dickiebird.

Then, Damian passed the mantle of Robin down to the youngest Wayne in circulation.

Bentley.

Who also had a reaction adverse to what Jason had expected. He’d expected Bentley to be the one to cry and seek comfort and fall into pieces on the floor in front of everybody, because that's how Bentley was. Bentley always broke and fell apart and spilled the truth and cried in people's arms because that's what was healthiest for him, because that's what the kid needed. (Jason was starting to think maybe thats what they all needed, really.) But Bentley didn’t do that. Bentley hadn’t shed a single tear for Dick Grayson since he got the news -- not in front of anyone, anyway. Bentley didn’t break in the way Jason was prepared for him to.

Instead of shattering, Bentley became the most insufferable little shit of the whole damn century.

If Jason thought Damian or Tim were bad, a sixteen-year-old Dick Grayson-less Bentley was a whole new level of bad. He’d sort of become a mix of them all, like he’d adopted the worst of their traits and turned himself into some kind of nightmarish Wayne family chimera.

He took on Tim’s reliance on work to keep himself busy. He took on the disassociating. He took on the constant rage that had always boiled under Jason’s skin. He took on the coldness Bruce carried around with him. He took on Damian’s newfound hopelessness, this sort of empty feeling that was almost tangible anytime Jason got within a thirty foot radius of either of them. He slid back into the Puppeteer way of being cryptic and detached. And on the worst days, the days where he was notably thinking of Dick, or the days he was having it rough working with Tim, he…

He took on the way Dick used to fall silent and just stay that way for a while. Which irked Jason to the moon and back at the same time it dredged up feelings he didn’t want to feel ever again. Feelings so strong it reminded him very unpleasantly of the phone call he’d gotten from Bruce telling him that Dick had…

Anyways, what else would Bentley do, right? He couldn’t blame the kid. They were his first family and now one of them was dead. Jason was surprised he was upright enough to do anything at all.

He thought that Dick’s happy-go-lucky, loving memory would help them heal. Hell, the only thing Dick would want them to do was keep going. He could nearly hear him saying it -- for them to move on, to keep going for him, to live their lives to the fullest and have families and have futures because that's what he would want. Jason knew that's what he would want. Dick had told him that on a few occasions when Jason found himself too close to the edge of a roof, and of course, Jason’s fatal flaw was clinging to the words of Dick Grayson at the vitalest of times.

And now, nine months after the death of their oldest brother, the Waynes were still a skeleton of a family, everyone mere shadows of who they used to be, and Jason was effing pissed about it. Sort of because he wanted his family back. Sort of because they were shitting all over the memory of Dick Grayson by being all stupid and emo on his behalf. Sort of because he was really freaking tired of being his own support system and the only one who’d ever really known how to do it properly had died in a fiery explosion. Jason wasn’t weak, and Jason was stubborn as a mule. But Jason also knew when the pit was getting to be too much, and the fact that he’d been having night terrors again, that he’d started having to chain himself to his bed every night again to avoid waking up drenched in blood was a bad sign. And Dickwing wasn’t here to be his typical annoying self and do things like check on him. Maybe, if he could talk some sense into somebody, they’d care a little in return. Which would be, well… good. For him. He guessed.

So, to honor his big brother’s memory and whatever, Jason was going to have to try and do all that big-brother Dick-Grayson shit himself.

And who better to start with than his own narrative foil and the bane of his entire existence, Timothy Jackson Drake?

It wasn’t hard to get into the cave. Even though Batman and Robin (Tim and Bentley, which was still taking some getting used to even after nine months.) mostly patrolled alone, with everything planned down to the number of breaths they’d take and their uncanny, frightening ability to execute it near flawlessly, Jason still managed to weasel his way onto their route from time to time. Only for Wayne family recon, of course, and maybe a little mayhem, too. They hated when he showed up. They’d told him that. But he was able to make himself useful enough that, now and then, Tim would call him back to the cave for a debrief.

He was lucky that September twenty-fourth ended up being one of those nights.

Red Hood, Batman, and Robin squealed into the cave on their motorcycles at almost four in the morning that night. They’d just busted a weapons smuggling ring based out of a freighter in Gotham Harbor, and Jason had made himself just useful enough (by manhandling the owner of the ring and doing slight damage) that Tim declared his information just important enough for the logs of the batcomputer.

He couldn’t deny that the cave felt different now, with different bird and a different bat, with a new glass case holding an all too-familiar black and blue suit that not a soul in the house had looked at since Alfred put it up. It felt more like a real cave, in a way. Empty. Expansive. Cold. Lonely.

The engines died and the three of them climbed off of the vehicles in tandem, sharing exasperated sighs, each for different reasons.

“That bust was shit,” Was the first thing any of them said, and it had come from the red-haired-black-dominoed-menace-to-society that had parked to Jason’s left, the Bentley Whittaker who decided he wanted to burn the planet and everyone on it. His Robin suit was almost solid black, with only small splashes of yellow here and there, but even that seemed too bright for his current demeanor. “Do neither of you know how to follow a simple string of codes? Codes that we came up with because they were easy to understand and act quickly on?”

“I don’t care about your seven-step-patrol-authentication-cypher, asshole,” Jason muttered in response, pulling his helmet off with a thunk and hanging it on the handle of his bike. “I’m not waiting for a bunch of numbers to tell me where to move.”

“If you did, maybe we’d have gotten the buyer’s name before you went and shot the guy in the head, asshole,” Bentley mocked, ripping his domino off with a shwip noise, uncaring that his face would probably still be red from that in the morning. He looked normal enough; older than when Dick had found him, sure, but normal. Everything but his eyes, which had turned into something so cold and mean and not-Bentley-like that Jason had a hard time looking in them for long anymore. (Sometimes he really thought the boy that used to sleep next to him on the couch during thunderstorms, that used to come to him for comfort with big brown eyes full of fear but also so full of love and kindness and an eagerness to have a family, was nothing more than a fleeting memory that Jason would just have to keep safe in his mind.)

“Maybe if you two would shut up and follow Batman’s orders, it wouldn’t have been such a trainwreck. Bruce picked me for a reason,” Tim added, jerking the cowl off of his head and moving across the room toward the computer, where he spent the majority of his days. And nights. And life. Jason, a long time ago, may have laughed at the way taking off the suit made his hair stand up. Now it was just another thing he sort of despised. “Robin, I need you to debrief.”

Bentley was already moving for the lockerroom. “I told you, the whole thing was shit because you’re both stupid. Debrief over.”

Tim blinked, huffing out a dramatic breath. “Robin.”

“Piss off,” Was what Bentley said, before he disappeared out of their sight.

Jason sighed lightly, rubbing his forehead with his pointer finger and thumb. The Jason Todd part of himself wanted to deck them both and then laugh at them for getting a nosebleed, but the part that knew Dick would hound him for it kept him quiet. He just stood sort of off to the side, a few good yards away from Tim, who was settling at the Batcomputer, mumbling incoherent but definitely ill-intended things to himself. (He was only twenty-four, but the way he sat in the chair and hunched at the computer made him look like Bruce.)

“Hood?”

Jason sighed again, just for good measure. “He said his buyers were a high profile family from Bristol using the weapons to expedite their greed. Taking them and selling them on for more. Didn’t give a name. Manufacturer was some kind of undercover factory in south Austrailia under the guise of a paper company.”

“And I’ll put the ring leader in the report here as dead, because someone can’t take his finger off the trigger to save his own life,” Tim mumbled in response, a few files opening up on the computer before he started typing up a debrief that sounded all professional, using far more detail than Jason even remembered.

“Obviously I got useful info, or I wouldn’t be here,” Jason replied, crossing his arms and leaning back against one of the pillars that stood in the midst of the cavern. “I know you’d rather swallow a cheese grater than exist within a mile radius of me, but you brought me here. So you can get over yourself and go to hell with your degrading bullshit.”

“We could’ve finished the bust much more efficiently and completely if you hadn’t shown at all,” Tim shot back, not even sparing a glance in his counterpart's direction, just typing at lightning speed. “You’re the reason everything got so screwed up in the first place. We didn’t need you.”

Jason shifted, propping one of his legs up on the pillar. Somewhere he wasn’t quite sure of, deep inside, that statement sort of stung -- but it mostly just worked to irritate him more and make him rethink trying to talk to any of these insufferable people.

“I didn't-”

The locker-room door closed with a wham, and Bentley came out in a t-shirt and sweats, his red hair floppy and wet from the fastest shower on planet earth. He had a full duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Robin, debrief, now,” Tim shot in his direction, more stern this time, as if testing the waters, gauging the reaction he’d get.

“Go to hell,” Was Bentley’s response, and he disappeared upstairs before anyone could say anything else.

Tim huffed, long, and dramatically. “He makes me want to throw myself out of a moving vehicle."

Jason hummed. If he was going to attempt a serious conversation, he guessed now would be an okay time, since Bentley had gone upstairs. There weren’t many other times he was alone with Tim anymore anyways.

“Well, we’re not exactly being great examples,” Was what he decided on saying. Not exactly the hey-get-over-yourself-and-shut-up-so-we-can-be-a-real-family-again rant he had planned, but it’d work, for now.

Tim glanced back at him, a sort of confused look crossing his face. Then he turned back to the computer with a sigh. “That’s not a new development, Hood.”

Jason said nothing for a minute, because, well... Tim was right.

“No, it isn’t,” He replied, glancing at the stairs up which Bentley had vanished. “Everyones… separating, again. Like what happened when Bruce disappeared. It took a long time for the family to recover from that.”

“Yeah, well at least one of us knew we could get him back,” Tim spat sharply, and Jason could imagine the cold glare that went with it even if Tim didn’t turn around. “Why are you talking about this, Hood?”

Jason glanced down at his boots that were crossed over each other, rocking the toe of one back and forth. “I dunno. Maybe we-“

“Look,” Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a soft sigh. “If you want to have a therapy session, go find someone who cares to listen. I have too much work to sit here and listen to you ramble on about nothing.”

Jason had an urge that made him want to punch Tim in the face again, and he clenched his jaw to try and stave it away.

“Okay, well next time a goon is about to snipe you in the head from a rooftop half a mile away from the bust, remind me not to get involved,” Jason muttered, pushing himself off of the pillar and strolling back through the cave.

Tim made a snort sound. “There were no snipers.”

Jason dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a .308 bullet he’d swiped from the magazine of a sniper earlier that night, flicking it so it dinged on the desk next to Tim’s keyboard. “You’ll see him if you check surveillance cams north of the Whitehouse Library. You’re welcome.”

Tim glowered at him from his seat, but pretended not to be doing anything as he started typing in codes to pull up the Gotham surveillance cams.

Jason moved for the locker room (he thought he still had some sweatpants in there, and they sounded heavenly right about then.) but when he stepped inside, it was clean.

He scrunched his face up. Typically, as of late, Bentley had taken to tossing pieces of his Robin suit around the room as he changed just to, like, claim territory or something. (Maybe it was a depressed teenager thing? He wasn't sure.) But now, there wasn’t an arm-guard or cape in sight.

The duffle bag on Bentley’s shoulder was starting to seem more and more suspicious.

Jason sighed again. "Bird-brat went to patrol by himself," He called over his shoulder, through the door.

"Again, Hood, not a new development. He hasn't been coming in from patrol until eight or nine in the morning since he started doing school online," Tim replied with a nonchalant, sort of bored tone. The sound of computer keys clacking floated around them for a moment.

Jason, without checking for the sweatpants he desperately wanted to change into, walked back out to the main cave and eyed the too-small-Batman. "And you let him? Last time I saw him on a patrol alone he got fear toxined and tried to murder me."

Tim shrugged. "And he got benched after. He hasn't shown up injured or drugged since. He isn't stupid."

"He's sixteen, of course he's stupid," Jason shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you kept a tighter leash on your bird."

"You try restraining him. Last time I tried to enforce anything on the kid he cracked two of my ribs in training. I'm not going to do all the casework, CEO W.E., and try to fix his shitshow attitude," Tim shook his head. "If he wants to live like hell, I don't care, as long as he shows up for patrol and graduates on time."

Jason inhaled and exhaled, and this feeling passed over him that made him want to throw Tim out of an airplane, because everything he just said would've been unacceptable the day before Dick's building went down in flames.

He clenched his fists, and then he released them, and he did that a few more times until he felt he could open his mouth without verbally murdering the current Bat.

"Next time you plan on getting sniped, don't bother calling," Jason said, with just enough nonchalance and just enough venom that it sounded like him. (Tim didn't have to know he turned his comms on every night during patrol and laid in bed with his helmet next to him so he could listen to it. Just in case they should ever need a third party who wasn't afraid of killing. After all, if they died, Dick would never forgive him.)

With that, Jason grabbed his helmet and left the cave without another word.

He didn't look at the black and blue suit on his way out.

-----

Jason found Robin with his legs dangling over the edge of Wayne Enterprises' rooftop, with his bow on his back, something glowing between his lips, and a large bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag sitting next to him. The Gotham lights were shining ahead of him, and the stars above, making what would've been a pretty nice picture if there wasn't a buzzed Robin in it.

Jason watched him sit in silence for about twenty minutes. It didn't take a genius to realize the thing glowing between his lips was a cigarette -- Jason watched him grab another one out of a seven-eleven bag after the initial one was gone. He kept taking long drinks from the massive bottle and wincing afterwards, like whatever was inside burned on the way down.

He let that go on for a while, before, finally, Jason landed on the rooftop behind the red-haired nightmare, careful to make his footfalls audible so his brother wasn't startled.

There was a long sigh. "A damn tornado is stealthier than you, Hood," Bentley grumbled from where he sat, not even glancing back at his counterpart. He picked up the bottle and took a long swig of it, suddenly not wincing at all now that Jason was there. It didn't take many steps forward for the telltale smell of booze and cigarettes to whack him in the nostrils.

Jason huffed, settling a good ten feet behind the teenager and crossing his arms. "You're going to give yourself cancer."

"That's what I'm going for," He replied smoothly. Jason saw him flick the ashes off of the cigarette that sat between his fingers, then take another long drawl. “Th’ hell are you doin’ here?”

Jason shrugged even though Bentley wasn’t looking. “Saw a sad little bird on the edge of a roof. Thought I’d drop by.”

“I’m not gonna kill myself, Hood. That’s what the booze is for," Bentley mumbled, smoke falling from between his lips and dancing away in the breeze.

Jason watched the smoke fade away. He sort of hated that he understood what Bentley was saying -- it'd happened to him several times before, where he was too much of a wuss to jump or pull the trigger, so he'd kill himself a little every day by drinking or doing drugs or smoking instead.

Jason huffed out maybe what was supposed to be a laugh, but it fell flat, his eyes drifting to the bottle. “Where did you get that, anyways?”

“I’m Robin. I could ask for someone’s liver and they’d probably give it to me,” Bentley replied with a nonchalant shrug, taking another drink of whatever he had, then a drag of the cigarette. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Jason lied, blinking at the back of Bentley's head. “Just thought I deserved a little info, since I’ll be the one carrying your scrawny hungover ass back to the manor after you drink all that.”

(And maybe so he could break a few bones over cigarettes and brown-bag worthy alcohol being sold to a vigilante everyone knew couldn’t be over eighteen, let alone twenty-one.)

“My legs’ll still work. So will the grapple,” Bentley replied, but Jason could hear in the way his words were starting to run together that that most likely wouldn’t be the case.

Jason shifted his weight, watching Bentley take another drink of the stuff. “You’d kill yourself with a grapple if you tried to use it drunk.”

“Done it before,” Was the unsettling statement that came next.

Jason sighed and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but upon realizing he still had his helmet on, let it drift back down. If he had known Bentley went on patrol just to get drunk...

“So this is what Robin does when he goes to patrol on his own, huh?” He questioned with a faint, empty snicker. Just to make the sentence sound right.

“No,” Bentley replied. At least Jason could tell that much was honest. “You just caught me on one of the good nights.”

Jason didn’t say anything to that, just watched as Bentley lifted the too-big bottle to his lips and took another long drink. The thing had to have been past half empty now. Unless it was just a really huge bottle of really cheap beer, Jason pretty much knew that the kid was going to be utterly done for in a few minutes time. (Bentley wasn’t good at holding liquor. Jason knew because he ended up being the very first hangover police Bentley’d ever had.)

(If he didn’t want to deal with Jason, maybe he should’ve drunkenly mistaken some other safehouse for the manor. Not to mention that the kid was one of those sad drunks, so Jason had felt almost contractually obligated to stay with him. Hence why he decided not to let him hangout on the roof alone.)

“Y’know, being all broody and pessimistic is kind of my thing,” Jason started, glancing off the rooftop at the few cars that were passing in the dark below them. “Not gonna lie — it doesn’t look great on you, kid.”

Bentley breathed in, and then out. “Charming, Hood. As usual. I thought you were debriefing,”

Jason breathed in and out, too. Then he tapped his fingers against his own arms. “I was. Then I wasn't."

"Very detailed analysis," The teenager mumbled, and Jason rolled his eyes. "You should teach me how to do that."

"Could you stop being an asshole for, like, two seconds?"

"Nope,"

Jason watched Bentley stare off the roof, taking a sip or drag every now and then. He didn't want to punch him -- he didn't.

“Y'know..." Bentley mumbled with a sudden shift in tone, taking a long drawl of his cigarette followed by a swig of alcohol. "When I first moved in, you made a joke that I was the Waynes’ to destroy. Nowadays that joke checks out. I'm Bentley, the asshole."

Something inside of Jason seemed to tighten. “Kid-“

“Don’t get all weird. It’s not like you could control it. And… it’s not like I wouldn’t let you do it again,” He muttered with a shrug, his words starting to meld with each other at a suspiciously quickening rate. “At least destroying me again would mean you guys still cared enough to do that.”

Quietly, Jason concluded that the sixteen year old was drunk enough to have a hard time holding his tongue. Because murder-death-rage Bentley hadn’t said anything so close to a please care about me since Dick died.

Jason took that and decided to go with it.

“You snap at everyone who gets close to you like some kind of rabid little creature that lives in a hole and comes out only to bite ankles,” Jason replied, crouching down on the rooftop with an exhale, somewhat behind him. “It was your choice to shut everyone out.”

“Tell me what the hell I was supposed to do, then, Jason!” Bentley was suddenly on his feet, so Jason was, too. One, because he knew the kid was drunk and could pull his bow on him if he really wanted, and two, because his balance wasn’t exactly trustworthy at the moment. He realized it was mostly the latter when he found himself inching forward as Bentley’s balance wavered.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, huh?” Bentley shoved him, and Jason stepped back. “The very second Dick Grayson died, every human being in the entire damn manor built walls up to the ceiling. Five people outright vanished, including you-“ He narrowed his eyes incredulously. “-Bruce became some kind of storytime bogeyman, Tim turned off his feelings like a Netflix psycho murderer and you all just left me there. So sure, you can accuse me of whatever you want, but I ended up the way I am because no one was there to help me. So I had to help myself.”

A moment of silence filtered between them. That fine sentiment seemed to dredge up a well of feelings that Jason hadn’t really let himself feel in a long while. He just sort of watched as Bentley shuffled back over to the edge and grabbed the bottle, only to turn it up and completely drain its contents, and for the first time, it sort of made Jason feel sick. Bentley was sixteen, and his big brother died, and instead of being a damn family, the Wayne’s did what the Wayne’s did best. Everyone scattered, and…

Well, just like he’d said. They’d left him there.

It was the same vicious cycle that Jason was living in — the resentment toward the rest of the family for shutting up, closing them out, pretending they didn’t know each other. Closing up, too, because he knew he’d get no help from anybody else, even if this was considered too big to handle alone.

Bentley puffed on the cigarette again, flicking the red ashes off the rooftop. “Sometimes I hate it here.”

Jason hated it when his siblings started to sound like him.

With no words, he lifted his helmet up and off of his head, the September breeze biting at his newly exposed skin. At the sound, Bentley turned to glance at him and scanned his face with brown eyes weary enough Jason could see it through the domino.

“I’m sorry,” Was what he said. He wasn’t sure why.

Bentley snorted at him. “Sorry that I hate it here? You didn’t make this hellhole.”

“Sorry that we left you,”

To that, Bentley’s mouth closed, and every trace of feigned amusement left his features. He just turned back to the city and… stood.

Jason didn’t say anything. He just sort of stood there, too, in silence. Bentley dropped his cigarette on the rooftop and stamped it out with his toe. And a few minutes after that, he pulled his domino off and dropped it on the roof, too.

Jason heard him whisper: “Shit,” Then he brought a hand up to his forehead and just let it rest there. “Breaking things that’re barely together in the first place is a specialty of yours, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything. Because there was a certain thickness in Bentley’s voice that he hadn’t heard in a long time, and he wasn’t sure if it was the booze or not.

Bentley sighed heavily and crouched down on the edge of the rooftop. “What? Did you just come here to torture me?”

“I came here because I’m sick of this godforsaken family pretending they don’t know each other every time something bad happens. They did it when I died. We did it when Bruce went missing. Tim’s gonna work himself to death, you’re gonna drink yourself to death, Damian’s gonna cry himself to death and I’m gonna pit myself to death. If Dick could see us right now, he’d be pissed,” Jason rambled, running an annoyed hand through his black and white hair. He noticed his fingers trembling with some kind of underlying adrenaline. “I came here because you might be the only one who’ll listen when I say I don’t want us to live in this hell anymore. All it does is make shit worse for everyone. And you know it’s bad when I’m the one having to bring it up.”

The only response Bentley had to that was another soft, breathy: “Shit.”

Jason huffed, glaring at the back of his head. “Shit? Is that all you know how to say?”

“I could say go to hell, if you prefer,”

“Already here, kid,”

Bentley breathed in and out deeply, rubbing his eyes with a fist. “A world without Dick Grayson is just a living hell, isn’t it?”

Bentley’s words hung in the air like smoke, so heavy even the breeze wasn’t able to carry them away. Jason just stood.

Yeah, it was.

The pair just existed in silence for a long while, and neither of them moved. Bentley stayed precariously perched on the edge of the building until he didn’t anymore — until he sat back on the rooftop and groaned: “Shit,” And then wiped at his eyes, because he was-

Oh.

Jason took a step forward. “Kid?”

“Piss off, Hood. Don’t you have someone to go shoot? Or something?” Bentley hissed, his tone lacking its usual bite despite the sharp words. “Surely coming here to make me feel like complete shit isn’t the only thing on your schedule.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. I came here because I don’t want us to feel like shit anymore,”

Bentley didn’t say anything. And while the teenager was utterly silent, Jason picked up on the telltale little hitch of his shoulders and wipe of his eyes. And it reminded him of the little kid that cried when it thundered, that woke him up in the middle of the night with tear-streaks on his face just to ask if it was okay if he slept on the end of his bed, and it all made his heart clench.

And then Bentley spoke. It was quiet, and broken, and sounded more like the ten year old Bruce had taken in than the Robin Jason had grown accustomed to.

He whispered: “I miss him so much I think it could kill me.”

With an inhale, Jason was suddenly moving, and he didn’t stop moving until his gloved hand came to rest on Bentley’s shoulder. But as soon as it did, the teenager shot to his feet and whirled on Jason in a split second, with streaks of wetness glimmering on his cheeks in the Gotham lights and a strange emptiness in his eyes. “Get the hell off of me, Hood.”

For a split second, he almost thought a flash of fear passed through Bentley’s brown eyes. He seemed to be struggling through conflicting emotions — because one second he looked pissed, and the next like he might throw up, and the next like he was about to break down crying, and next, like a kid who’d been shut somewhere alone for way too long. He was drunk, Jason remembered. Did it matter?

“Jason,” Was what he said next. His eyes were welling up again without his consent, but he kind of looked like he wanted to stab Jason in the face with a knife instead, and he was looking down at the rooftop instead of at his brother. He brought his arms up and around himself and gripped his own sleeves until his knuckles turned white.

(Just like he used to when he was little.)

“Bentley,” Was Jason’s reply. He inched forward and raised a hand toward him again.

Bentley flinched away.

“Don’t touch me,” He muttered. Jason disobeyed and rested a hand on his shoulder again, and as soon as he did touch him, Bentley sobbed and brought a hand up to hide it.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!" He shouted, slapping Jason's arm away with a thwack.

"Kid,"

Bentley sniffed. "I’m so fucking cold.”

I’m so fucking cold.

Jason didn’t waste a second disobeying the kid’s previous orders by grabbing him by the head and and jerking him forward into his chest. He may not have been Dick, but Bentley hugged him back twice as hard anyways, and Jesus, had the kid even touched anybody since Dick died?

Jason didn’t think about it for long, because he only had approximately a millisecond before Robin was losing his absolute shit, drunk breakdown style. It was that kind of crying that made you try and cough your lungs up, and the kid kept saying stuff but he couldn’t tell what it was. Bentley was squeezing around Jason’s back so hard it actually kind of hurt, and that’s when he realized that Bentley ever actually cried when Dick died. That he’d stifled whatever reaction he would’ve had and shut it away for self preservation.

Bentley was reacting to Dick’s death right now.

Jason just did what big brothering he had learned over the years — he held his baby brother and kept his own feelings closely bridled, for both of their sakes. And they had to stay like that for a while. At one point Bentley’s knees buckled, and Jason had taken on most of his weight, but he didn’t care.

Then, almost an hour later, Jason took on all of his weight very suddenly. And that’s when he realized he'd blacked out.

Jason sent a withering glare to the bottle wrapped in the brown bag and picked Bentley up.

“You’d better remember this shit when you wake up,” He mumbled. He tried to glare at the unconscious boy in his arms, but he couldn’t, really — Bentley looked less sixteen and more twelve, with a faint expression of discomfort splayed across his reddened features. His face was wet from crying and glistening in the city lights.

Jason managed to pick up his helmet and Bentley’s domino with one hand, then he made for the nearest safe house.

(Maybe, if he was lucky, Bentley would remember their conversation when he woke up.)

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

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unknownarmageddon · 1 year ago

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Now playing: Hold Me Like a Grudge; Fall Out Boy

| 2:17 ————————— • ————— 3:36 | << ⏸︎ >>

More information below!!!

banner made by both me and chair!!

My main fandom is UTMV but I’m also really big on fall out boy, the wrecks, green day, hozier, nine inch nails, st. vincent, various other bands, birds, the QSMP, adventure time, studio ghibli films, horror, pokemon, twin peaks, and several video games (namely warframe, though many other as well)!! and just a variety of other stuff. you will get all of my bullshit

As of now I do NOT take art requests or commissions, so please don’t ask. (i may be open to the idea of art trades or collabs with friends/mutuals only) Also absolutely do not repost my art on any site!! especially without permission or credit. you can use my work only for personal stuff like pfps, banners, etc. as long as there is credit. however, my ocs and sonas, and art i’ve made of them, are not for personal use unless i know you well (fanart is fine). asking beforehand is also preferred if you want to use my art for something. thumbs up emoji

as a general warning I will occasionally reblog and/or post, create, etc things that contain blood and gore, disturbing imagery, violence, and similar themes, and several of my aus will more often than not include these as well

There will be absolutely NO dreammare, frans, or fontcest, or any similar ships, because they personally make me very uncomfortable, but lots of sanscest stuff, so. obviously don’t follow if that’s not your thing. but dont, in any capacity, talk to me about ship discourse i legitimately could not care less as long as no one’s hurting anyone. i am aware of who i’m following and i cater my own experience. thumbs up emoji

things i’ve written:

- Sirius (Ongoing)

- Bathroom Sink (Drabble)

- Christ Alive (One-Shot)

- Detours (One-Shot)

- Trinkets, Bits, and Bobs (One-Shot)

- Our Spot (One-Shot)

extras/tags/links/whatever:

- #armageddon art ; art that’s mine tag (fanart. uhh mostly fanart)

- #wip ; unfinished snippets of whatever drawing i’m working on at the time

- #rambles ; text posts tag

- [this used to be #armageddon rambles woah, so that’s where most of the other things i’ve said are]

- #answering asks ; self explanatory

- [asks are sorted via “[url] asks” and “anon asks”]

- #sona ; main sona tag

- #fursona ; main fursona (lazarus) tag

- #plaguesona ; plague doctor sona (jasper) tag

- #jimmy ; jimmy tag

- #armageddon’s fanfics ; tag for shit i’ve written

- #sirius ; tag for my main ongoing fic

- sheep’s head ; tag for one of my own original projects (currently i’ve done practically nothing with it yet but plan to in the future)

- #creepy stuff ; tag for horror/surreal-adjacent art i’ve reblogged

- [there will be blood, gore, and just generally dark subjects under this tag, and i typically don’t tag specifics for each thing i reblog, so feel free to filter this one as needed]

- #cool ass forests ; forest photos (and some art) i think are very very neat :]

- #banger art ; tag for more general art i find rad

- [all other interest-related tags are just the thing, ie #fob or #birds or #studio ghibli or whatever]

- UT AU Masterpost ; has information, references, etc, for most of my original aus and aus i co-own with friends (i recommend you check this if you’re looking for something specific, i promise it should be helpful)

- art-only blog

- AO3 account

- send me an ask with 🎱 and i’ll give you a song i listened to recently!!!

Last image (left) from psycho-chair!! 1st and 2nd gifs from glassofpumpkinjuice, 3rd gif from filmtvtoday, 4th gif from inthedarktrees; second gif at the very top from chair dividers from here

#Pinned post #masterpost #last updated november 24 2024!!

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bini-chan99 · 2 years ago

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Yunho

Yunho Smut FF

Yunho Bestfriend To Lovers FF

Yunho Fluff FF

Fantasy

Yunho Enemy to Lovers and Alien Invasion FF

Yunho Sugar Daddy / CEO and Tattoo Artist FF

Yunho Rockstar/Band, Boxer and Bodyguard FF

Yunho Psycho, Criminal and "Horror" FF

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morning-star-joy · 1 year ago

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same music anon here 🙋🏽‍♀️ found a few more songs for joel x the mistress but I also found one for reader x joel in ASHWAH

ASHWAH: you belong to me - nico yaryan

joel x the mistress

• i’m glad by captain beefheart & his magic band

• give it to me by homeshake

• tulsa jesus freak by lana del rey

• my kind of woman (instrumental) by mac demarco

• i’m not in love by kelsey lu

• just me and you by dreamliners

hope this wasn’t too much 🫣🫡 i’m a music psycho !!!!

MUSIC ANON!!!! Hello my love!! EEEE thank you so much for sending me more songs! And an ASHWAH ONE!? You own my heart now ty

you belong to me - my friend truly bless you for giving me an ASHWAH song especially one this fucking perfect. After writing the intimacy drabble for them today and listening to this I am so emotional. They truly do belong to each other, body and soul

i'm glad - oh my god these vibes are soooo beautiful!?!? this is so gonna be playing when I play around with their subtle romance, omg the muse is coming to me now

give it to me - okay but the innuendo of this song is so sexy omg, the give it to me like of course we know it could mean like hehe yknow (I write sm smut but I'm so immature sometimes I swear), but talking about love too? More romance muse

tulsa jesus freak - OH GOD I LOVE THIS SONG YESSS!! "like a little piece of heaven" and "white hot forever" perfect vibes!!!

my kind of woman - FUCK I ALSO LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH AND ITS REALLY GOOD FOR THEM AFJWIOJEF LOSING MY GODDMAN MIND RN, I had no idea there was an instrumental version!!!!! crying

i'm not in love - I love this song too!!! I've never heard this cover it's so perfect ahhhhh, my friend you're just making me absolutely go feral over these songs

just me and you - I'm loving these older classic songs for them!!! because I really get those kinds of vibes from the mistress!? and these songs that have those vibes really reinforce it for me!!

#doni replies #music anon #I'm making you a lil tag becus ily #sorry this took a little while to reply I wanted to give all my attention to these songs and write my thoughts for them!!!#you're giving me so much inspiration for part 2 with these ty!!#honey don't feed it fic

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band--psycho · 3 years ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Reader-With You

For my amazing friend @brown-eyed-babes - thank you so much for sending this request in for my drabble challenge, I hope you all enjoy it💛

Klaus couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across his face when he looked down at Y/n.

It was almost like a fairytale, the sun was slowly rising in the sky, the birds were chirping away, singing to their own song outside the bedroom window. All while Y/n was peacefully sleeping in his arms, her head resting against his chest.

Even after all these years, he still couldn’t comprehend how gorgeous she was, even whilst she was sleeping. Klaus had seen many beautiful things in this world, but none more beautiful than her.

Cuddling was their favourite thing to do, the sex was amazing, there was no doubt about that, but cuddling like this, it was a different type of amazing.

In all the hundreds of years he’d been alive for, he’d almost forgotten what this type of feeling felt like; to be completely head over heels in love with someone.

There was so much he loved about her; her creativity, her kindness, her tendency to point out when he was wrong about something (which was quite an often occurrence, although Klaus would deny it).

To most people, he was seen as a monster, someone that should be staked and locked in a coffin for the rest of time, but Y/n saw something different in him. She saw the good in him. And she brought it out of him. When Klaus was around Y/n, he was different. In the best way possible. He was better when he was with her.

Y/n made him remember what it was like to be human instead of the monster he was known to be.

She made him hope, care and love again.

And she was different around him too.

Her eyes sparkled a little brighter when she was around him, her laugh was a little louder; and more importantly she was happier when she was with him.

She’d spent so long going from one shit relationship to another that it was almost bizarre for her to have a relationship like this.

A good relationship.

The once in a lifetime epic type of love that everyone talked about.

A fairytale type of love.

Klaus was jogged from his thoughts when he felt Y/n shuffle slightly under his arm, a sure sign that she was going to be awake soon.

And soon enough, her dazzling y/e/c eyes fluttered open, finding Klaus’ face almost immediately.

“Morning,” she mumbled sleepily, beginning to trace small circles onto his bare chest.

“Morning, love,” he whispered, placing a small kiss on the tip of her nose, causing a small giggle to escape her lips. The sound of her laugh alone was enough to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. His hand delicately moved down to her waist, pulling her closer to him before moving his hand to the back of her head. Slowly he began stroking her y/h/c hair soothingly, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. Wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment with Y/n forever.

Tag List:

@xacatalepsyx @jensenackles512 @little-diable @akshi8278 @milly-louise @beth-winchester21 @123cvc @bxnnywatts @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @wandamaxigod @tempt-ress @camillyb @malfoys-demigod @misshale21 @msmarvelknight @it-was-alll-a-dream-blog @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @mysticalmermaidlove @abadamn

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #tvd imagine #tvd x reader #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries klaus #the vampire diaries x reader #band—psycho drabbles #drabble writing challenge #drabbles

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years ago

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Pick a Winchester - Petals and Thorns

*Credit to jensenandtheboys*

Pairing: Winchester!Brother x Fem!Reader

Summary: Flowers you used to hate them that was until you met your forever Winchester.

Warnings: None.Lite angst, Fluff, kisses, MAJOR FLUFF.

Prompt: One-word prompt is 'Flower'

A/n: @firefly-graphics for the dividers, and this prompt is for band--psycho's 2k writing Challenge. Congrats on making it to 2k followers, I hope you enjoy this.

Main Master List // Imagine Master List

Word Count: 999

I used to think that getting flowers from your lover was just a cliche thing. A way for them to tell you that they were sorry and that they'd never break your heart again.

Something I had watched my father do with my mother after a bad fight between the two of them. A bouquet of daisies, red roses, and lilies. He'd give her anything just for her to think that she was safe. All for it to happen all over again the next week, just after the beautiful tall flower welted.

There dried petals cluttering the window sill. Something about how I watched the flower die, just clicked with me. I vowed then that I'd never accept flowers from any man regardless of who they were to me.

That was until I met him. His warm heart, big hands, and arms wrapping their way around my cold and dark heart to the ideas of love. I bet you he didn't even know that he had done it.

He's too innocent to even understand the way he's got my heart and stomach in a twirl. The first time it was a shock, and I almost handed them back to him. It was a gift. A set of daises for my convalescence.

He brought them up with him, to the second floor of the hospital. Put in a gorgeous crystal vase. The way that the white daises reflected off the crystal were amazing. His booming and strong voice had a warm feeling to it. Makes me feel safe, and oddly comforting feeling at the bottom of my stomach.

“Here, baby. I got you daisies.” He said setting the vase on the side table. “You really shouldn’t have done that babe.” I couldn’t even look at them, but it was a nice gesture was all I could think. “You’ll be home soon according to the nurse.” His voice was chipper and excited.

The second time was for a minor fight we had. Something more of a disagreement. “Look, I just want you to be safe, Y/n.”, “Why can’t you accept that I’m always safe. I don’t need you to be my soldier, and protect me from everything.” It was louder than I meant it, and my loud stomps away didn’t help either. Nor did the door slamming behind me as I rushed to my bedside.

Hours later a soft knock came on my door. The first thing was a warm, and inviting voice that wasn’t as loud as earlier before. A pair of strong broad shoulders come into view. My pillow isn’t soaked, but I have no want to be anywhere near him at this moment.

“Y/n, sweetie. I know that I pushed you. I didn’t mean.” It’s soft from his lips, the light from the hallways gleaming from behind his back, and shoulders. He looked like an angel, and it felt like I was in heaven when I was with him.

“Look, dear, I need you to know that you probably need space. But I just want to leave these right here.” He said walking into the room and setting yet another vase of flowers on the dresser.

Lilac flowers in a purple vase. It was beautiful, a gesture of good faith I suppose. The next morning when I woke up there was a card placed next to the vase. I got up quickly walking over to the dresser. The card was a light purple. The words are written in neat cursive handwriting.

“My sweet Y/n. I’m sorry that we’ve come to this place right now. I just want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. Love your forever.” Short, but sweet. The third time was for an anniversary. Wild red roses, wrapped in parchment paper.

His tux was prim and proper, my dress long and stopping at my ankles. The red roses matching my long dress. “I know sweetness that you don’t like flowers, or gifts really of any sort, but I just wanted this day to be good.” He said. Warmth surrounding me as I linked arms with him. The scent of wood chips, and motor oil.

It was perfect. Five years together, wonderful years. Spent making beautiful memories about anything and everything. Linked arms as we walk into the dimly lit restaurant. The waft of steak and other great-smelling foods came into my nose. The funny thing though was in the back of my head all I could smell was the flowers, and the way he smelled.

It was as if the smell had wrapped itself around me. It was intoxicating, deafening me to the outside world. In this world, it was only me, and him. In our own little fantasy, just him and I.

The fourth and most recent time, I received flowers from my love was for my birthday. A not huge milestone in a life of a hunter, but a milestone nonetheless to him. His brother was out, letting the privacy of the special moment be ours.

Rose petals lined the way throughout the library, through to the kitchen, and eventually to our bedroom. Several vases of flowers were placed around the room, one was full of lilies, another was just different colored roses, but the one closest to my side of the bed was a bouquet of gladiolus multi-colored.

That night it was love that I shared with him. Nothing but absolute love. His large hand resting on my upper thigh as I chugged my celebratory wine. He leads to the dance floor where I rested my hands on his chest, and we swayed to the soft music in the restaurant.

And by the time we got back home to the bunker, I was more than tired. Red wine going through my system, and small kisses on my lips, and cheeks. “I love you sweetness.” The Winchester whispered in my ear. Funny how I used to hate flowers.

Regardless of petals and thorns

Completed on: 08/03/2021

Posted on: 08/03/2021

Tag List: @band--psycho @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @fofisstilinski @hit-meup69 @doctorlilo @samsgirl93 @wonderfulworldofwinchester @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @stoneyggirl2

#2k follower celebration #band psychos 2k celebration #supernatualfluff #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fanfic #sam fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x reader #sam x female!reader #dean x female!reader

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band--psycho · 1 year ago

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Oh how I love Steve Harrington 💕

Thank you so much for writing this amazing fic for my writing challenge; it’s so pure, heartwarming and just completely amazing!

3am

Characters: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: It’s 3am and Steve allows himself to feel a little comfort in the midst of all the madness.

Word Count: 500 words

Prompt: ‘You’re my new pillow’

A/N: This is for the amazingly wonderful @band--psycho and their drabble celebration. This was difficult to keep under 500 words!!!!

It was late, and nothing good ever happened at 3am. He felt like he was always the last one for the penny to drop, always a few steps behind everyone else mentally, and he worried that if he closed his eyes for a second that something terrible would happen.

Sitting in the Wheelers basement, surrounded by the gentle snores and occasional shifting of his sleeping friends, he allowed himself a second to just breathe. His gaze drifted in the gloom to you, leaning against him with a peaceful expression, and his heart ached. You had never really been his, but that didn’t stop his heart leaping into his throat every time he saw you. Not that he had ever told you that. Steve knew he was not good enough for you, you deserved the world, but he wanted you to be happy, to get through this nightmare as unscathed as possible. Part of him wished you’d never been dragged into all this, and another part was grateful you were by his side.

Maybe one day, the stars might align, and you would see he was sitting here simply waiting for you, but until then, he was content to just be in your orbit. He shifted slightly, laying back against the arm of the sofa causing your head to rest against his chest. Steve froze as you let out a deep sigh and then snuggle into him, your hand coming to rest by your face, softly rubbing his chest. A goofy smile played on his lips as he looked down at you with a lovestruck expression he knew would result in mercilessly teasing if witnessed. Things were crazy, and he was so afraid he wouldn’t be enough, but right in this moment he allowed himself to feel something else, something lighter.

You let out a soft groan and your eyes opened slightly, taking a moment remember where you were. A soft smile pulled at your lips as you realised you were snuggled up to Steve, assuming he was asleep. Sneaking a glance up at him, your eyebrows rose when your eyes met his warm chocolate one.

“Hey.” You whispered, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey.” He hummed back, the rumble in his chest vibrating beneath your hand.

“You comfy?”

“Yeah. You?”

“You’re my new pillow.” You grinned sleepily and Steve felt his heart explode at just how adorable you looked right now.

“Any time.”

“Careful, Harrington, I might just hold you to that.” You murmured as you snuggled into his chest once more, already feeling sleep calling you back into its depths.

“Good.” He whispered, wrapping his arm around you, and letting his own eyes close. The weight of you against his body was reassuring, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he was just a nineteen-year-old kid, and it was okay not to have his whole life together. He placed an absentminded kiss to the top of your head and allowed himself to drift off and get some well-deserved rest.

#band-psycho's 3.6k drabble celebration

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 2 years ago

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my official reasonings/ramblings for why each song on my steddie playlist was added because the brainrot is real (this list is constantly being updated!)

i tried to keep this as close to the actual time frame as possible, but any song can be a steddie song since eddie is actually alive and well ofc 🥰

any song with just the reasoning being “Steve” or “Eddie” means it’s a song on that’d i think would be on their playlist/they’d listen to and may or may not think about the other while they do

Eddie My Love - The Chordettes duh. but also this is the song Steve puts on the jukebox in response to the scenario below with ‘Hey Lover’ (here’s a drabble I wrote for this and ‘Hey Lover’)

I Was Made For Lovin' You - KISS Eddie’s Steve song; part of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Mary On A Cross - Ghost Literally all the first steddie edits I saw on tiktok were to this song

Hey Lover - The Daughters of Eve I have an scenario in my head of Eddie putting this song on a jukebox in a small diner, saying “hey that sounds like you Stevie” at the line “You don’t have to be a king” and blushing like crazy when Steve smirks and asks “You trying to tell me something, Munson?” (here’s a drabble I wrote for this and ‘Eddie My Love’’)

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon this tiktok by luna.weasley11 that says it sounds like Eddie singing

Never Ever Getting Rid of Me - Waitress Soundtrack POV, Eddie singing this to Steve because Eddie didn’t die and Steve and Robin work at a diner now, fight me.

Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus Eddie singing about Steve; Steve comes to Eddie at prom (Steve is chaperoning or is Robin’s date idk) and invites him to an Iron Maiden concert. basically this post by erlij on twitter (the twt post was what i saw first, but they also posted it here on tumblr (@erlie))

Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard Eddie

You Shook Me All Night Long - AC/DC Eddie

Head Over Heels - Tears for Fears Steve’s Eddie song; part of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Angeleyes - ABBA AU where King Steve and Eddie meet earlier and maybe fool around and this is Eddie after King Steve drops him (don’t worry they still get together later after Steve isn’t a complete ASS.).

Cry Little Sister - Gerard McMann Kas!Eddie vibes also Lost Boys?? Hello?? - also this vid from @verk0my of steve meeting vamp eddie the first time

Lay All Your Love On Me - ABBA Steve

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears For Fears Steve’s “Heat of the Moment”/groundhog day song from “The Lathe” by @palmviolet on AO3

1985 - Bo Burnham duh

Master of Puppets - Metallica DUH

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) - Kate Bush duh, but also this Kas!Eddie x Steve fanvid by @softoreos on youtube

Psycho Killer - Talking Heads was in the show, but I added it to this playlist because of this tiktok by roguealien (@rogue-alien here on tumblr)

Take on Me - a-ha Steve

Somebody To Love - Queen duh, but also: don’t watch this Ella Enchanted AU vid by roguealien on tiktok and then DON’T think about this song/scene in the movie but steddie

Take My Breath Away - Berlin duh

Bad Habit - Steve Lacy Steve to Eddie when he finds out Eddie had a crush on him and was too late to do anything about it either due to canon or because Eddie’s in a coma from his injuries

Voulez-Vous - ABBA added because I read this fic by @bmodiwrites where Eddie walks in on Dustin and Steve singing and dancing to this while cooking and it sends Eddie into a mixtape-making spiral

Eddie Baby - Felix Hagen & the Family AU where the fruity four go see Corroded Coffin play at some gay bar in Indianapolis’ open mic night and after Corroded Coffin plays, Steve, Robin, and Nancy surprise Eddie by being the next act to go up on stage; Steve singing as a confession to Eddie, Robin and Nancy as his backup/band! I finally wrote this!! tumblr | AO3

You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) - Dead Or Alive Steve’s “Oh shit I have a crush on Eddie Munson” song

Kiss the Go-Goat - Ghost seen this used in steddie edits

Tainted Love - Soft Cell Eddie with his big ol’ pining crush on Steve

I Ran (So Far Away) - Flock of Seagulls Eddie coded: “Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week.”. also, “..with auburn hair and tawny eyes” is obv. about Steve

Play With Me - Extreme Eddie

Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen Steve

This Charming Man - The Smiths Steve coded

Heart Of Glass (Live) - Miley Cyrus the song fits the era, but this is the version I like better tbh

Spillways - Ghost idk, i like it and I think Eddie’d like Ghost in the future

Don’t You Want Me - The Human League classic 80s song

Super Freak - Rick James classic 80s song (also I love the Hillywood ST parody vid)

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Queen DUH

As the World Falls Down - David Bowie, Labyrinth HELLO?? JARETH!EDDIE AND SARAH!STEVE?? “I will be there for you as the world falls down”??? editing this one to add THIS BEAUTIFUL ART BY @vesperalhemlock

The Power Of Love - Huey Lewis & The News perfect for S3 steddie!

Can’t Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon classic 80s song, plus a fic of the same name by @steddieasitgoes where Steve finds a mix tape Eddie Made about him and this song is on the tape twice because Eddie is that down bad for him

I’m Still Standing - Elton John fits both of them, Steve after having gone through all the upside-down bullshit, Eddie still standing tall after everything he’s been through

Le Hace Falta Un Beso - EL Chapo De Sinaloa this tiktok/meme by littlecorvo also i’m in LOVE with hispanic!Eddie

Watching Over Me - Radio Company i used this song for the title to my destiel!steddie fic bc it's a super destiel coded song by jackles himself!!

The King Has Lost His Crown - ABBA STEVE’S SONG FR ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? ABBA?? The title?? “The world is upside-down”?? In the words of my friend Eli (@transizzyhands): “I can’t believe abba invented Steve harrington”; now part of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Rainbow in the Dark - Dio Eddie

Last Christmas - Wham! idk, i’ve seen edits of them to this song and also i love this song lmao

Hopelessly Devoted To You - Olivia Newton-John Sandy!Steve x Danny!Eddie

SOS - ABBA Steve pining after Eddie even though he’s gone

Acolyte - Slaughter Beach, Dog “Eddie, I want you to marry me, we’ll wait a few years, I don’t mean to frighten you, I just wanna be clear.” (this specific vid by tubesock_ (@tubesock86 here on tumblr) made me add this to the playlist!)

Your Love - The Outfield Steve

More Than a Feeling - Boston classic

Is This Love - Whitesnake there was a specific video by chloeeerenee on tiktok that made me add this song to the playlist but it has since been deleted 😔; also part of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Love Bites - Judas Priest Kas/Vampire!Eddie x Steve vibes, this art by @eddiemunsonrulesmylife, ALSO THE ART FROM THIS ALBUM IS A POSTER IN EDDIE’S TRAILER FROM THE ST SET

Every Breath You Take - The Police this is giving either ghost!eddie still watching over steve OR steve pining after eddie from afar as far back as S2

Kickstart My Heart - Motley Crue i originally thought Eddie would’ve liked this song, but now i’m thinking that steve is the one that ends up liking it and is like ‘oh, you like this right? this is metal?’ and Eddie has to be all 😬😬😬 ‘yeah stevie, i love this song’

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen THEM!! classic 80s song, also this vid by roguealien

Honey, Honey - ABBA Steve

Camel by Camel - Mix Vocal - Sandy Marton this video by @/marcluvr on tiktok

Rock You LIke A Hurricane - Scorpions Eddie

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) - John Lennon them ❤️ also this edit vid with the album by lordnessly

You Really Got Me - Van Halen Eddie

Starman - David Bowie from a Instagram story by @szczurherbacany; when they posted the first pic on this insta post, had this song on it!! basically, steve's moles/freckles are constellations

Take A Chance On Me - ABBA Eddie wanting Steve to take a chance on him

Turbo Lover - Judas Priest this art by @eddiemunsonrulesmylife

Owner of a Lonely Heart - Yes Steve

Freaks - Surf Curse Eddie coded

Going to Georgia - The Mountain Goats the song for the songfic title “the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you” and its sequel “frozen with joy right where i stand” by @greatunironic ; AKA steddie fic royalty

The Promise - When In Rome this tiktok from nextjen

(I Just) Died In Your Arms - Cutting Crew Kinda literal lmao sorry

Sweet Leaf - Black Sabbath In my fave steddie fic “The Shire is NOT on Fire” by @kissesforcas, Steve tells Eddie that this song reminds him of his love (Eddie); it makes sense when you read it!.

For Whom The Bell Tolls - Metallica Eddie’d love this song but also this vid specifically from @toktopus-art

Ballroom Blitz - Sweet idk why but this is giving me fruity four vibes OR will be the song that will be playing during S5’s big fight™ and we find out eddie’s still alive and the big fight™ is the party vs. kas!eddie and vecna

Shout - Tears For Fears Steve

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell this vid by roguealien

Dancing In the Dark - Bruce Springsteen Steve coded in general also this art by @mankanar

You’re The One That I Want - John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John Sandy!Steve x Danny!Eddie in general, specifically this vid and this vid from toktopus-art

Lovesong - The Cure duh

This Year - The Mountain Goats this vid by roguealien

I Will Follow Him - Peggy March this vid by roguealien

Be My Baby - The Ronettes part 4 to my mixtape fic!

Take Me Home Tonight - Eddie Money duh! but also i added this to my #steddieweek2023 fic!

Enjoy the Silence - Depeche Mode this vid by vimenage is what made me add this song to the playlist!

I’m Still Here (Jim’s Theme) - Treasure Planet soundtrack Eddie coded; seriously makes me emotional thinking about Eddie singing this like wtf

Rewrite The Stars - The Greatest Showman soundtrack in my head this is a AU where Steve is the rich boy that falls for acrobat Eddie; Steve joins the show just as staff to get away from his Dad/family, travel with the show and to learn more about the absolutely enchanting trapeze artist (like Ewan McGregor does in Big Fish but his love is in the show he’s working for). Steve wants to go all in in their relationship and Eddie is wary because he doesn’t trust rich boy Steve (at first) and also he is more cautious of how their relationship would be perceived to anyone outside the showgrounds/performers/their friends and pushes him away because of it.

I Won’t Say I’m in Love - Hercules Soundtrack DUH!!! A classic song for any ship; Eddie is Meg and Steve is Hercules obv. w/ corroded coffin and/or robin and dustin are the muses being like, “we all know you’re down bad for the big hunky jock you can’t fool us eddie.”; bonus! i wrote this!

Misunderstanding - Ninja Sex Party classic angst song (this version cause I personally prefer it over the original)

Radio Ga Ga - Queen I feel like they’d both love this song

Agora Te Puedes Marchar - Luis Miguel this edit from moonysmunson

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper Steve after Eddie died 🙃

I Want to Know What Love Is - Foreigner Steve when he’s going through is sexuality crisis/figuring out his crush on Eddie

Careless Whisper - Wham! 😏

Crazy For You - Madonna Steve

Heaven - Bryan Adams future steddie!!!! 😭😭😭

St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion) - John Parr Steve coded, thinking he’s the only one who can save everyone and once it’s all over, just being on top of the world being with Eddie and getting the fuck away from his fuckass dad

Broken Wings - Mr. Mister

I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) - Four Tops Eddie has a soft spot for sappy oldies

All I Ask Of You - Phantom of the Opera soundtrack added this for the steddie fic i wrote where Eddie was a theater kid in school and steve fell for him when he saw Eddie play the Phantom

Necesito Decirte - Conjunto Primavera my hubby found this song after looking for it for a while and the lyrics fit a lost depressed steve after eddie is gone

Tragos Amargos - Ramon Ayala sad sappy songs for eddie music hc, but this time it’s hispanic!eddie(, my love)

Quién Como Tú - Ana Gabriel this vid by corvus_chronicles on tiktok (@corvuschronicles here on tumblr) with hispanic eddie jamming to this while cleaning 🥰

If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher timeloop fics 🫠🙃

Alone - Heart this vid by @becomingfoxes that made me realize i hadn’t put this on my playlist yet????

Bigger Than The Whole Sky -Taylor Swift this edit by mira (@/hellfiresteddie on twitter) FUCKING HELL ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS BULLSHIT??? ALSO @strawberryspence and @undreaming-fanfiction's fic of the same name

Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance this video 🙃🙃

Teenager in Love - Dion & The Belmonts they really do just be two teenagers in love?? also see prev. explanations about Eddie having a soft spot for sappy oldies because of Wayne

Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benatar Steve

Boys Don’t Cry - The Cure Steve

Wouldn’t It Be Nice - The Beach Boys It really would be nice if they could just be in love and happy, wouldn’t it?? sorrynotsorry about making this happy sounding song sad

The End of the World - Skeeter Davis Steve being in his feels after Eddie’s gone (Believe it or not, I don’t really like angst, I promise! idk what’s up with me lmao)

Can’t Help Falling In Love - Elvis Presley they really can’t lol

Holding Out for a Hero - Bonnie Tyler Steve deserves a bashing in some UD monsters heads montage to this song; now also included in part 5 of my mixtape fic!

Lady Stardust - David Bowie this tweet about how this song is Flight Risk steddie coded

Something About You - Level 42 Steve

Into the Groove - Madonna Steve

How Will I Know - Whitney Houston Steve

Always Something There to Remind Me - Naked Eyes after eddie dies, steve seeing things everywhere that remind him of eddie

Like a Prayer - Madonna “I’m down on my knees, i wanna take you there”?? 👀

The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie it’s giving witness protection eddie, maybe WP eddie that even the party thought died but then find him again??

Heartbeat - Wham! this vid by rachelismommytbh on tiktok that inspired my #steddieweek2023 fic!

My Boyfriend’s Back - The Angels this vid 🤗 by @ranebowstitches on tiktok

Out of Touch - Daryl Hall and John Oates Steve worried he might not have the time to get to know the guy that may or may not have made him realize things about himself after the world didn't end. now also part of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos this video from @sam-loves-seb that made me bawl uncontrollably!

Your Kind of Lover - Freddie Mercury this tiktok from @miserablekingsteve ; and now in my #steddieweek2023 fic

Underground - Cody Fry this video by @maatdraws

Object of My Desire - Starpoint this vid that pointed out this is canon Steve music; it plays in the car in s4 e1!

Self Control - Laura Branigan

True - Spandau Ballet

Stephen - Ke$ha you can't tell me that eddie wouldn't sing steve's name to him in this exact tone whenever he sees him after hearing this (either modern au or ELND and they are together through the 2010s etc.)

People Are People - Depeche Mode steve internally being like 'damn why does eddie hate me sm?' i.e. before getting together, after vecna, eddie is still wary of "King Steve"

Forever - KISS this HC post from @undreaming-fanfiction about steve and eddie's first dance to this song at their wedding; now also my #steddieweek2023 fic

The Trooper - Iron Maiden eddie would BODY this guitar!! also this is from the same album that eddie grabs from robin and says "THIS. IS. MUSIC."

Runnin' with the Devil - Van Halen I can see Eddie blasting this through town just to see how offended people get, leaning into the rumors and all that; now also because of my #steddieweek2023 fic

Kiss On My List - Daryl Hall & John Oates Steve; also in my #steddieweek2023 fic

Faithfully - Journey in my head, this one goes like this: at the end of one of his shows, rockstar!eddie says "okay guys, we're about done here, and there's just one more song i want to play for you. it's a little outside of our normal type of thing, but there's a very special someone out there in the crowd who just loves these guys... so, to stevie, thank you for sticking by me through the absolute hell that touring can be, thank you for always being there for me in general really.." he chuckles into the mic, "anyway, this one's for you sunshine." he goes to leave the mic but comes back to mumble out a "also, please don't sue us, journey." and plays this for his steve ❤

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper tbh i’m getting girls day/sleepover at steve’s (robin, nancy, erica, el, max) and he gets pulled into a dance party/sing-off to this song, and afterwards, while they are giving him a makeover, tells the rest of them about his crush on eddie (robin already knows obv)

I Want It All - Queen

Everybody Needs - Danny Elfman this video from @/havisham.hfc on tiktok

Easy Lover - Philip Bailey, Phil Collins

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham! Steve (duh), but also tbh i saw this edit of my original blorbos and i immediately thought but what if also steddie??

Hold The Line - TOTO “love isn’t always on time”?? it’s giving canon ending to s4 and steve realizing his feelings too late 🙃 also, now in my #steddieweek2023 fic

American Pie - Don McLean this vid by @strawberryspence

Stand by Me - Ben E. King i saw a top 10 songs of the 60s and for some reason this one made my brain go brrrrrrrsteddiebrrrrr

La vie en rose - Louis Armstrong from @ohliooh’s playlist for their fic One Need Not Be A House 🙃

Livin’ on a Prayer - Bon Jovi this post by @sparrowtapes, duh of course steve has a crush on eddie cause he also has a crush on bon jovi

Uptown Girl - Billy Joel steve is the uptown girl he (eddie) is singin' about obv

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths steve just wanting to get out of his house and away from his lonely thoughts, even before steddie, just being out doing nothing with eddie starts to mean everything to him

Dreams - Van Halen steddie talking about getting their dreams of getting out of hawkins, even before steddie happens

At Last - Etta James my #steddieweek2023 fic

Remains of the Day - Danny Elfman this original corpse groom au by @undreaming-fanfiction that inspired this continuation i did covering the remains of the day scene!!

For the Dancing and the Dreaming - How To Train Your Dragon 2 soundtrack this video by @/stevie.boy_19 on tiktok that WRECKED me 🥰 also included it in my fic here

You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi this video by @/mione.ae on tiktok 🥵🥵

A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into - Be More Chill soundtrack this video by @toktopus-art

I’ve Got You Under My Skin - Michael Bublé the song from ‘The Proposal’ and the title for @strawberryspence ‘s fic of the same name. the most bestest, most important most au fic ever

Hysteria - Def Leppard this tiktok from @/doodle_soup72

Burnin' for You - Blue Oyster Cult

Lovers In A Dangerous Time - Bruce Cockburn suggested by this lovely anon, these lyrics are super steddie coded

In My Head - Joe Sarafini & Andrew Barth Feldman this video by @/usu_mimi on tiktok (i’ve been assuming this is @usumimi here on tumblr!)

Poison - Alice Cooper Eddie being mad at being down bad for Steve, everything about him being dangerous for Eddie to have feelings for. like, s1 era

Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac Steve AND Eddie (surprisingly/not surprisingly; it's Wayne's fault he likes Stevie Nicks, okay?)

Shadows of the Night - Pat Benetar Steve

Foolish Heart - Steve Perry Steve

Renegade - Styx i've had this one associated with spn/the winchesters in my brain for so long but this post by @roykentt made me see that it's also eddie's song fr fr fr

Never Ending Song - Conan Gray this video from naysa on tiktok that made it so now all i can think of is eddie when i hear this lmao

Would That I - Hozier this video from @tubesock86

Indiana Wants Me - Eddie Taylor this video and art from @rogue-alien

Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow - Freddie Mercury their last night together bc they decided they just don’t work anymore, or eddie is being hauled off into witness protection and won’t be allowed to see steve anymore, hell, even a “you’re getting married tomorrow morning and this is our last night together” vibe. and then i cried.

Dance the Night Away - Freddie Mercury

Work Song - Hozier i got a brainworm about this song and wrote this thing

When I See You Smile - Bad English

If You Love Me (Really Love Me) - Brenda Lee

Back to the Old House - The Smiths this video by @/eliminatolives on tiktok

Little Lies - Fleetwood Mac from this tiktok that i could 100% see being a years later meet cute between the boys (eddie is dancing in the middle of the aisle lmao)

Cheri Cheri Lady - Modern Talking

Talking In Your Sleep - The Romantics steve

Freak of the Week - Freak Kitchen idk i just love this song and i could totally see this beinga song/video Corroded Coffin would do. can you imagine the animated versions of the boys in this video?? iconic

Here I Go Again - Whitesnake

The Boys Of Summer - Don Henley classic song, theme song for summer fling fics in my head (also the title song for this fic by steveharringtoned)

Give Him A Great Big Kiss - The Shangri-Las this little thing by @thefatedthoughtofyou

I Think We're Alone Now - Tommy James & The Shondells

Dial Drunk - Noah Kahan king steve song fr, i hc the person he's calling is his mom and she doesn't answer or tells Hop to just leave him there to teach him a lesson or smth (completely ignoring the fact that he's a high schooler getting drunk on the regular). i have more thoughts about an au where steve writes this song and eddie is a more established star who adds his vocals to it as a re-release but that's for another time.

Run Away to Mars - TALK for this thing i wrote of eddie being the one to sing this about steve

Sherry - Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons tbh i just like this song, but also i can see either finding out the other does too and starting to sing along to it but replacing 'sherry' with 'eddie' or 'stevie' lmao

Holy Diver - Dio duh

Seek & Destroy - Metallica kas!eddie comeback theme song. he and his army of demobats are hunting down the hawkins gang, montage of them all fighting, ending when eddie finds steve backed into a corner with only his bat >:)

As Long As It's Not About Love - Dio from this post by @novakiart

To Be Young Again - Holy Wire this sounds like steddie finding each other again after being something back in the day and now they are wistful about what could have been and also what was

#steddie #mine #steddie playlist #spotify #spoofy #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #stranger things #st hc #stranger things hc #stranger things playlist #ref #Spotify

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charnelhouse · 3 years ago

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Fandom Recs

Master list for recs throughout the different fandoms. Art. Fic. Whateva! Heed the warnings before you read a fic, yo. These were collected from all over and we can continue to update! FYI if you only see your username once it's because I can only add fifty mentions.

Star Wars

Naboo Royalty by @grinningnexu (Darth Maul x Reader)

syrup & honey (cassian andor x reader)

fragile precious things (cassian andor x reader)

not a dream (cassian andor x reader)

Hard to Like (jyn erso x reader)

closer to blue (cassian andor/jyn erso/reader)

Hierarchy of Needs (Rex x Reader)

i know what you like (Boba x Reader x Din)

come home to me (Gregor x Reader)

Something New (Fennec x Reader

Joint Effort (Hardcase x Reader)

Tales From Bespin (Lando x Reader)

[PLAY] (Rex x Reader)

Utterly Wrecked by @saradika

The Helmeted Hunter (Boba x Reader)

Some Other Beginning's End (Boba x Reader x Din)

A Mutual Arrangement (Boba x Reader)

Din Djarin

miscommunication by @ezrasbirdie

nighthawks by @pedros-mustache

Bred

Revelation

Yield

Wreckage | Refuge by @the-scandalorian

Silver Linings by @oohnomando

Starlight by @lovelessdagger

Frustration - @lordabovehelpme

Wrest Pin by @balletorchid

Each Morning Sun a New Adventure by @ellearem

Triple Frontier

Love is a Substance by @novemberrain221 (gen)

Pool Party by @kesskirata (gen)

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten (Will Miller x Reader)

Empty Space (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Excess Baggage (Will Miller x Reader)

you can't hurry love by @lorecraft (Will Miller x Reader)

four times you accidentally say "i love you" and the one time benny means it Benny Miller x Reader)

yellow by (Benny Miller x Reader)

issues by (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

silence by @thebenevolentsnakepit (Benny Miller)

smooth like sea glass by @spanishmossmagnolia (Frankie Morales x Reader)

what more could i ever need by @green-socks (Benny Miller x Reader)

The Best of Us (Santiago Garcia x Reader)

Others

Rick Flag

Brat Catcher 2 by @clints-lucky-arrow

I'm Not Sentimental, But by @babblydrabbly

Jax Teller

I'm the Baby Whisperer by @band--psycho

Make It Rain by @little-diable

Wandering Romance by @untilmynextstory

Promising Young Woman

You Got This

Bad

Rising from the Ashes by @rebelwrites

Beaches and Brawls by @chibsytelford

Raymond Smith

The Chase

Peanut Butter by @flaireandsynch

Ezra Prospect

Supposition by @velocibeewords

Pedro Pascal

what are we talkin’ about? by @aestheticallywinchester

Homelander

Jealous by madhatter2727

Red Roses by @theboysfanfic

Smucation Challenge

Bucky Barnes

Ashens by @allandoflimbo

Thor

Fate Entwined in The Stars

Oberyn Martell

Drabble

Master lists:

Master list by @beskarberry

Master list by @lovebarefootblonde

Master List by @insomniamamma

Master List by @starwarslove16

Master List by @she-devil-jones

Master List by @anaaaispunk

Master List by @danniburgh

Master List by @ezrasbirdie

Master List by @wordsnwhiskey

Master List by @starlightmornings

Master List by @mothandpidgeon

Master List by @pascalslittlebrat

Master List by @wyn-n-tonic

Master List by @absurdthirst

Master List by @krissology

Master List by @frannyzooey

Master List by @djarinsbeskar

Master List by @astroboots

Master List by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Master List by @silksaddle

Master List by @danidrabbles

Master List by @highsviolets

Master List by @javier-pena

Master List by @221bshrlocked

Master List by @steeeeeeeviebb

Art

Art by @sequere-mei-callipygian

Art by @thepoisonofgod

#fic recs #charnie's 5k celebration

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

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Into The Flames

Dominic Toretto x Reader

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Dominic Toretto Masterlist

This Months Writing

I have no idea where this came from, the words @withmyteeth sent for the 100 Drabble just made the words flow.

You watched as the blast took full effect, flames engulfing the car. If it wasn’t for Dom holding you back, you would have ran straight into the fire, trying to salvage whatever you could of your grandpa’s car.

It was too late, the last thing you had of his was now gone. Burnt to a crisp, whilst your ex stood near the blaze, a smirk on his face, your ex-best friend by his side.

“You fucking rat!” You screamed as hot tears ran down your face. “You said you wouldn’t tell him where I moved. I will fucking kill you.”

“Darling, you need to calm down,” Dom whispered, with his cheek pressed against your head.

“How the fuck can I,” You sobbed struggling to get your words out, “How can I calm down, that was the only thing I had left of him,” You screamed, your chest rising violently as your lungs burnt, screaming for air, “It’s fucking gone.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Dom sighed, trying not to let the tears burning his eyes fall, “But you know if I let you go, you will end up beating the shit out of them.”

“Damn right I will,” You cried.

“I can’t let that happen,” He whispered, “You are on your last chance with the local PD and plus you are on probation.”

“I can’t let them get away with it,” You screamed, pounding your fists against Dom’s chest. “I just can’t.”

“And I won’t let them get away with it,” Dom whispered, kissing your forehead, before he nodded at Roman, who quickly stepped in, pulling you from Dom’s arms and into his.

You tried to put up a fight, but he was stronger than you, so you quickly gave up, especially when you saw Dom and Letty storming over to the people you once held close to your heart. As much as it pained you to see the flickers of the flames you couldn’t take your eyes off your boyfriend and someone you saw as your sister.

Three punches, that's all it took for your ex to be floored, allowing Dom to climb on top of him, keeping the punches colliding with his face. You watched the shade of crimson coat his face along with Dom’s knuckles. Glazing over to Letty as was in the same position as Dom, your so called best friend screaming for her to stop.

It wasn’t until the sirens were heard in the distance that either of them stopped. You couldn’t hear what Dom said to your ex but you knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, and more than likely threatened to kill him.

Somehow you found the strength to escape Roman’s grip, running straight into the flames you didn’t care anymore. The one thing that meant the world to you was gone, there was no saving the car, every panel of the car was scorched, the interior had completely disintegrated, the photo you kept on the dashboard had burnt to a crisp.

Talking a few more steps closer, you were ready to climb into the car and let the flames take you as well, you had fully given up. If it wasn’t for Dom wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back from the blaze you would have gone with the car.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dom shouted, panic laced in his voice.

“I have nothing,” You wailed, “I have noone, I am nothing.”

“Is that what you really think?” Dom screamed, he knew raising his voice wasn’t the way around this but you needed the tough love right now. “Do you think that no one would care if you went with the car? Because let me tell you this, we fucking would,” He yelled but lowering his voice “I would.”

“So don’t even think about calling this the end,” He said, holding you as tight as he physically could, “I can’t survive without my girl, I lost you for three years and that was too long in my books, so I am not losing you forever.”

The two of you stood a few feet away from the flames, watching as the fire department put the flames out, neither of you moving as you watched the flames die down letting you see the full extent of the damage.

“We can fix it babygirl,” Dom whispered, kissing the top of your head, “The damage isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“It won’t be the same,” You sighed, your eyes stung from crying, your voice horse from the screaming, “I will never be the same.”

@chibsytelford @phoenixhalliwell @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @withmyteeth @jessprins13 @rightwhereiwantyou @jasonbabymama @pumpkin-spice-hate @garbinge @zozebo @pancakeisreading @phoenixhalliwell @band--psycho

#Dominic Toretto #Dominic Toretto x reader #dominic toretto imagine #Dominic Toretto oneshot #fast and furious #fast and furious x reader #fast and furious imagine

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fanfic-n-tabulous · 2 years ago

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I need your help. Last night I was reading a story revolving around Chibs and I can't find it anywhere. I accidentally closed It while reading and now I'm searching everywhere to try to find it. It was named whiskey and fire or gasoline and whiskey or whiskey and gasoline... something like that. I'm tagging some of my favorites and hope that you guys can help me out. Please feel free to reblog to see if anyone you know knows what I'm talking about. Thanks loves!!! @withmyteeth @drabbles-mc @chibstelfordimagines @charmingoutlaws @chibs-fuckin-telford @chibsytelford @theidiootti1 @thegirlwhowritesfics @darklydeliciousdesires @crimsonheart01 @untilmynextstory @jamalflanagan @obsessedasusual @frattsparty @crushed-pink-petals-writes @menofchaos @breanime @ladyreapermc @noladyme @wilhelmjfink @band--psycho @broiderie @mrswhozeewhatsis

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mrsnegan · 4 years ago

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Here you'll find all my fics and drabbles listed in categories. I will update my masterlist from time to time. 😊

Most of my fics are 18+ (not suited for minors).

NEGAN

Trapped [smut]

Watch Me [smut]

A Helping Hand [smut]

Rain down on me [angst]

Want to hear you scream [smut]

NEGAN x F!READER SERIES - @band--psycho Bingo Challenge

Part 1: Dirty Little Secret [smut]

Part 2: Movie Night [smut]

Part 3: Pitch Black Impala [smut]

Part 4: Calm Before The Storm [angst/fluff]

Part 5: When It All Comes Crashing Down [smut/angst]

Part 6: Aftermath [angst]

Part 7: Drunk [angst/smut]

Part 8: Feels Like Home [angst/fluff/smut]

JOEL MILLER (TLOU)

Show Me [smut]

Only If For A Night [angst/smut]

Without me [smut]

On the edge [smut/fluff]

Put Your Hands On Me [smut/fluff]

NEGAN/JOEL MILLER CROSSOVER

Good Girl (Negan x f!Reader x Joel) [smut]

Look at you [smut]

Get down tonight [smut]

BILLY BUTCHER & JOE KESSLER (THE BOYS)

Daddy's home | Round I [smut]

Daddy's home | Round II [smut]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN

Jeffrey x f!OFC [fluff/implied smut]

Jeffrey x Girlfriend!OFC [smut]

Kinky Little Missus [smut]

Missed you [smut/fluff]

REQUESTS

Jeffrey x Ylana [smut]

Negan x Bestfriend!Reader [smut]

Negan x Shy!Reader [fluff/smut]

Negan x Depressed!Reader [angst/fluff]

Negan x Teenager!Reader [angst/fluff]

Negan x Worried!Reader [angst/fluff]

Negan x Reader x Rick [angst]

Jealous!Negan x f!Reader [smut]

Prison!Negan x f!Reader (Part 1) [fluff/smut]

Prison!Negan x f!Reader (Part 2) [smut/fluff]

Professor!Negan x Student!Reader [smut]

Negan x Flexible!Reader [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (Daddy & praise kink) [smut]

Neighbor!Negan x f!Reader [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (wearing his leather jacket) [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (degradation kink) [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (getting rid of an unwanted admirer) [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (Negan being addicted to the reader's thighs & breasts) [smut]

Negan x f!Reader (age gap) [smut]

#mrsnegan masterlist #negan fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan smut #negan x reader #negan x ofc #negan x you #my fanfiction #negan #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years ago

Text

✨ Emoji Fic Fest ✨

2k Followers Celebration! 🥳

💗 Emoji Fic Masterlist 💗 now posted!

GIFs by drogons

Sooo this humble little hoe blog now has over 2000 followers and it makes me super happy!! For a blog that only writes smut about one (1) man sex god I feel like 2k isn’t too shabby 😊 especially since Charlie’s fanbase is tragically small, much unlike his dick lolll…

--- Requests are now CLOSED ---

In celebration I’ve decided to *open requests* specifically for a little emoji fic fest! 💥

Here’s how it works:

Submit an ask

Choose 1 character (any character played by Charlie Hunnam, or Charlie Himself)

Give me 3 emojis (literally any emojis at all, seriously they can be weird and random as hell)

No limit on requests per person (*but* I’m not sure yet how long I’ll leave this open to requests / how many I’ll accept for this fic fest – tbh I might only take those that strike my inspiration)

… and then for each request that I accept I’ll write a fic (probz pretty short + obvz smutty) based on that character + emojis!

Tips:

If you’d like to see examples, there are actually a couple of 3-emoji prompt examples on my Masterlist of Drabbles!

If you’re not sure what emojis to submit, google perchance random emoji generator and feel free to play around with it! (previously included the link here but have deleted it as I think it may’ve been fucking up notifs and shit?)

And that’s it! ✨

**********************

Tagging some lovelies that I’m lucky to have had as part of my slutty tumblr journey, who have been super sweet and supportive of me:

No pressure to take part in this celebration obviously, just to thank you for being so lovely! 🙏🏼

[in alphabetical order] @abby-splace @alexa-rae-dreamz @autumnleaves1991-blog @band--psycho @charlie-hunnams-old-lady @charnelhouse @coffeebooksandfandom @coffeequeenxx @edonaspanca @emilykjh @est11 @flaireandsynch @gemini0410 @happyhunnams @helloheyhihowdyheya @hunnambabe @i-love-scott-mccall @innerpaperexpertcloud @itspdameronthings @jessie-writes-things @jitterbugs927 @kesskirata @little-diable @lovebarefootblonde @longlostinanotherworld @marvelousmermaid @malethirsty @miraclesoflove @miss-smutty @missusnora @niki-xie @pomegranatearildreams @rayslittlekitten @rebelwrites @samanthaisnthome @six-camelot @sciapod @soaharleys @tegggeeee @thexhostess @vixenrebellion @wayward-avenging @waywardodysseys @witching-hour @withmyteeth

+ everyone else on my tag list and kinkfest tag list!

**********************

Thanks so much again, and as always much love to everyone!! 💕

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

Text

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

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

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

word count: 17.2k

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

///

Harry hates clubs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the f—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to hell.”

“I’m already there, mate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, boomer.”

“You’re older than I am!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the culture shock hit.

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

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

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Precisely his point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how do you like your new home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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