#Reputed Beauty Salon

[pmamtraveller]

PORTRAIT OF MADAME X /1884/ by JOHN SINGER SARGENT

“Madame X” is a portrait of Virginie Amélie Avegno Gautreau, or Madame Gautreau. Madame Gautreau was an American expatriate originally from Louisiana. She had moved to Paris, France, with her family when she was eight years old. She was renowned for her beauty and sophistication.

Madame Gautreau was painted at the request of Sargent himself, who hoped he could use her popularity to increase his notoriety. Many artists sought to paint Madame Gautreau, as they were enamoured by her unusual beauty, but she had denied most of them.

When this painting was first shown at the Paris Salon of 1884, Madame Gautreau’s right strap was depicted as fallen off her shoulder. The strap, the amount of bare skin visible, and the heavy makeup on her face resulted in a mostly negative review from critics. The public viewed it as flaunting her immorality.

Sargent, trying to safeguard his reputation, repainted her strap so that it was back on her shoulder. Regardless, this scandal ruined his reputation in Paris. Shortly after, Sargent gave up the city of light and relocated to London, England, where he stayed and finally acquired the respect as a portrait artist that he was seeking.

Seven years later, in 1891, Madame Gautreau was painted again. This portrait, by the French artist Gustave Courtois, displays her in a very similar manner, in profile with a dress with one shoulder strap down. The dress, however, is white. Interestingly, this painting was a success when it was unveiled, perhaps speaking to the changing social norms of the time.

[theocddiaries]

Vanessa: Wade, don’t be stupid, if he’s going to the town hall, it’s because he really wants to marry you. Wade: No, he’s going because he’s a stubborn dick who always wants to be right. I know him. He’s caught a hint of doubt in my tone, and now he’s gone to mess with me. He’s twisted like that. Colossus: You’re really making a mountain out of a molehill, Wade. Vanessa: And I spent a hundred dollars at the hair salon. Wade: Well, you look the same. Negasonic Teenage Warhead: What a bullet you dodged, huh? Yukio: Hey, come on, sit down and let’s talk about it… Wade: No! My suit will wrinkle— Vanessa: See? You care because you want to get married. You’re the one throwing a tantrum. Wade: You’re right… I have the love of my life waiting for me at the altar; I’m an idiot. Negasonic Teenage Warhead: The good news is that I don’t think Logan has realized it yet. Vanessa: I think he has, and it’s even more beautiful that he still accepts you. Wade: I’m so excited that your passive-aggressiveness doesn’t hurt me. [runs to the door] But you’re sitting in the backseat because I still have dignity! [AT THE TOWN HALL] Logan: He really left me hanging. I thought it was a bluff, but he’s not coming. Erik: With all the people drooling over you, why complicate your life for no reason with that moron? Gambit: Don’t listen to Satan; happiness gives him hives. Erik: Are you badmouthing your students about me? Xavier: No, you’ve earned that reputation on your own… Wade [runs in]: Logan! My love! Logan: Wade? Wade [throws himself into his arms]: Forgive me; an idiot overturned on the road, and we had to change direction. Negasonic Teenage Warhead [to Vanessa]: What a giant bullet you dodged. Colossus [crying]: Hush, girl; this is beautiful in its own way. Wade: Are you sure about this? Logan: … Wade: I was joking; you know how I am when I’m nervous. Laura: Damn, does that mean he's day to day self is his quiet version? Wade: Respect your new other dad. Laura: What if I object and ruin the wedding? Wade: What if I make your life so miserable that I get you to emancipate? Laura: You’re already doing that. Wade: Oh, no, now I’d be trying to do it consciously. Erik: Isn’t this making you grateful I turned you down back in the day? Xavier: It’s for things like this that my students call you Satan.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[meidui]

heyyy！i just saw u reblog an ask and it just happened to be the exact same thing I wanted to ask👉👈 do u have and recommend stony fics that are top Tony/bottom Steve 🥺

you know i do!! see also k's rec list and bulky's rec list, i tried not to rec any that were already on their lists <3

Jackpot by @elcorhamletlive

It’s not always like this.

Tony leans back on the bed, assessing his view. Near the door, balanced on his knees, Steve stares at him with half-lidded eyes, blue eyes darkened under those beautiful eyelashes. His blonde bangs stick a little to his forehead, where a glimmer of sweat is evidence of how long he’s been in that position: knees firmly planted on the rug of Tony’s bedroom, naked aside from a pair of cotton black briefs, hands tied up behind his back, exactly as Tony left him this morning. He breathes heavily, his muscular chest going up and down as he watches and waits.

Doubling Up (Steve) by @elcorhamletlive

“Well,” Tony drawls, his gaze going from the bed to where Steve, and, uh, Tony are standing, next to the small pile where Steve’s shirt lies along with his trousers. “This is awkward.”

Chamber of Reflection by @thahiree

A few years after retiring, Steve and Tony get a surprise visit from another Steve. Steve Rogers from Earth 1610 is lost, grappling with the new century he’s been unceremoniously dropped in, with confusing feelings for his new teammate, with himself.

Steve and Tony decide to get involved.

A Proportional Response by @mserm

Steve doesn't have a reason for cock-blocking Tony.

No reason, whatsoever.

It's Hard To Look Right At You, Baby by Albuss

“Woah,” Tony says, “slow down. Take it easy. Hold your horses.” He can be forgiven for saying the same thing four times because he is already completely, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Five Times Steve Woke Up Early (And One Time He Didn’t) by @airlocksandaviaries

Steve's not actually a morning person, despite his body's insistence. It's quite possibly the one thing about the serum he's not immensely grateful for. Forcing himself up and on a run to burn through the overwhelming, restless energy that builds bright and early would be much more tolerable if it were a few hours later. Tony decides to do something about this.

Underneath it All by @hollyandvice

Steve's finally ready to indulge Tony's fantasy of seeing him in a thong. He just has terrible timing when it comes to implementing sexy times. But that's alright, Tony's a master of making the best of a (not actually) bad situation.

the year you were mine by @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man.

Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

a thousand things you call me by @areiton

He calls you a thousand things, and you love them all, count them all and guard them close, because with each he calls you mine.

Your Reputation Precedes You by @vanilla-shoes

Tony agrees to watch the desk for the salon next door to his garage as a favor -- but when he meets the salon owner's fiery best friend Steve, maybe the favor is for Tony after all...

Brooklyn After Dark by darefanny

”I could do that”, Steve had said before his brain could catch up to his big, stupid mouth. He had leaned over Tony’s shoulder to look closer at a photo of a man in lingerie on his tablet.

Slow Burn Fireworks by felisnocturna

Tony fucks him incredibly slowly this time.

praise you like I should by @firebrands

steve gets de-serumed for a hot second, but tony's pretty quick to reassure him of all his lovely traits. (made even better by having to sleep in a shitty motel with a mirror on the bed.)

Suds 'n Studs by @fohatic

Tony didn't mean to hire some super hot, young guy to take his clothes off for money -- honestly! He just wanted somebody to wash his cars! But accidents happen when you let your AI do the hiring for you, apparently. Now the recent divorcee has an awkward apology to make. He also has as an invitation to subscribe to Steve's OnlyFans. What he doesn't have is any clue what he should do in this situation.

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

the thorn in his side by @fohatic

It had been there from the beginning. There was no end to it, that mutual wanting between them—forever unresolved—that had grown so terribly soft and unbearably romantic with age...

But there was an unspoken rule between them, as well: an understanding that they could never act on it.

That is, until an alien parasite's brood nest gets violently dislodged from its Chitauri Leviathan host during the Battle of New York, dispersing its contents directly over two time-jumping tourists who are very much in the wrong place and the wrong timeline.

pull me down by breakeven

He doesn’t mean to pull, is just brushing through the locks there as a means of comfort, to show Steve that he’s still there and present with him, that Tony is just as affected by the wet grasp of Steve’s hole as Steve is by the insistent pressure against his prostate

wind me up by breakeven

Steve hadn’t known it, but apparently Tony could tell after the first time they ever fucked. He could see in Steve the need to please, the need to be of some sort of service, and had known that it would translate perfectly in sexual desires, even when Steve hadn’t had a clue himself.

honey from your hive by meidui

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

Blushes Per Hour by @blossomsinthemist

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, no,” he said. “Um, but.” He was breathing heavily now, through his nose. “Rachel liked it when I did it, because she has, uh, she has sensitive breasts, and I, um, err. Sometimes I’d pull on my own nipples during, or, or after, on my own, and. And I’d imagine—wonder, really, if I was. If I had enough, or—”

“Are you saying you’ve fantasized about this?” Tony said, and he couldn’t help the pure delight that came through in his tone, because had he actually stumbled onto one of Steve’s kinks, here? He’d never let on at all before, not at all.

Please Please Me by @blossomsinthemist

Steve looked so beautiful flushed and wanting, on his knees, begging.

Failing To Not Fall by @nvrthlessthsun

Steve was failing to not fall in love with Tony Stark.

AKA the one where Steve thinks he's Friends-With-Benefits with Tony, and Tony thinks he's dating Steve.

Paint Job by @valdomarx

“You want me to what?” Steve looked incredulous. “I want you to detail my car,” Tony said with a smirk.

Relax, Darling by @valdomarx

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd, Four’s a Party by @valdomarx

How to satisfy the secret desires of a horny supersolider:

Ults Steve gets gangbaged by Tony from four different universes (Ults, MCU, AA and 616).

Mark Sixty-Nine by @everybodyilovedies

Tony is irritated that Steve's first hug-and-fly wasn't with him. As the source of many of Steve's other "firsts", Tony has a brilliant idea of how he could take one more. Specifically, Steve's first time being fucked by a machine.

Afternoon Delight by @greyduckgreygoose

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Rogers nodded politely to Natasha. They exchanged quick, familiar smiles, which suggested that they knew each other better than the acquaintances they seemed to want Tony to think they were. Up close, Rogers was even more attractive than he had appeared on camera, a touch of blonde stubble along his jaw, large square hands.

He also had a nice ass, not that Tony was particularly staring.

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha said, as they both stood before Tony’s desk. “May I introduce Steve Rogers? Or, if you prefer, Captain America.”

The Sixth Time is the Charm by @onemuseleft

The fifth time Steve tried to get Tony to fuck him (and failed) is when he started taking it personally.

Your Kind of Love by blue_jack

The first time they have sex, Tony isn’t really hoping for much.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 8

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Bathtub shenanigans, sexy/soothing massage, thigh riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

Word Count: 3,511

A/N: Here's Ch. 8. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Y/N sat down on the thick, satin blanket that covered the massive bed and ran her hand across the cool, smooth material, marveling at the room around her.

One thought came to her mind; Dean was definitely paying for this hotel. Sam and Jessica were doing well financially, but they could never afford something so incredibly luxurious.

The floors were marble, with thick, plush rugs placed around the room, warming it up both figuratively and literally. The walls were polished mahogany and home to pieces of art that likely cost more than her entire salary for three years. 

There was also a large, round, mahogany table and four, spindle-legged chairs that sat around it. In the northernmost corner of the room, sat two green, velvet-upholstered chairs with another small mahogany table between them. The chairs had wide seats and were so comfortable looking that Y/N wanted to immediately cuddle up with a book and spend a rainy afternoon eating sweets and not moving.

There were two tall, wide windows with window seats that allowed a person a perfectly unobstructed view of the beautiful hotel gardens. Because it was Christmastime, the evergreen trees in the garden were decorated with red bows, cranberries and strings of shiny beads. It was cheery and beautiful. Her suite did indeed have a private entrance that connected to these gardens and she couldn't wait to wander through them on a sunny winter day.

She also had a beautiful, private bathroom complete with a built-in bathtub that looked large enough to swim in.

Dean had told her that the staff was available to her day and night and that they would make her whatever meals she requested, she need only ask.

Y/N was trying very hard not to succumb, and immediately agree to Dean's offer. She knew she shouldn't be so easily corrupted by wealth and luxury, but she wasn't hypocritical enough to pretend that this kind of extravagance wasn't incredibly enticing.

There was a discreet knock at the door and Y/N went to answer it. When she opened the door a young woman in a maid's uniform stood on the other side. Behind her stood a very short man in an elegant suit.

Before Y/N could ask who they were, the gentleman pushed his way in, followed by numerous beautiful women dressed in stunning gowns. Y/N was somewhat taken aback by the opulence and beauty entering her hotel suite.

The man walked briskly up to her, standing very close. "My name is Mr. Lowen. I have the premiere dress salon in New York and Mr. Winchester has hired me to outfit you completely. Today we will measure you and get your opinion on some of these styles. Within three days we will have an entire wardrobe for you. You will love it."

Mr. Lowen had a high pitched voice with a southern drawl to it that Y/N found quite charming. She merely nodded, slightly dazed, and Mr. Lowen led her over to the window seat while they looked over the many gowns modeled by the women.

At first Y/N was shy to give her opinion, simply telling Mr. Lowen that yes, she liked this dress and that shoe. But he eventually managed to cajole actual opinions out of her. Yes, she loved that deep blue color, no she didn't like the puffed sleeve. She liked shoes that were simple in design, but made from fine materials.

After looking at the gowns, every inch of Y/N was measured, from head to toe, as Mr. Lowen made notes in a small notepad.

Before she knew it, two hours had passed and he was saying goodbye and kissing her on both cheeks. He promised to return in three days to personally deliver her new wardrobe.

Her guests left in a flurry of activity, and the silence and calm that followed felt soothing. Y/N decided to continue the decadence and began to draw herself a bath. The water was warm as it poured into the large tub. 

There were so many different oils and soaps on the shelf beside the tub that Y/N took quite a while deciding which to use. She finally settled on a lavender scented oil and a soap with a light rose scent. She poured some of the oil into the water before turning off the taps and climbing in.

A groan left her lips as the warm water surrounded her muscles. The gentle lavender scent of the oil made Y/N worry for a moment that she might fall asleep in the tub.

Then she heard the door leading from the gardens open and Dean's voice calling her name. Suddenly she was wide awake, her body pulsing. 

He came into the doorway of the bathroom and stopped. He slowly leaned himself against the frame and allowed a sly smile to spread across his face.

"Enjoying the facilities, I see.”

Y/N nodded, shy for a moment. But then she reminded herself that she was practicing boldness and trying out audacity, so she leaned back in the tub.

"Join me?" She asked, allowing all her desire to show in her expression as she opened her arms to reveal herself to Dean. She was thrilled at the lust that exploded behind his jade green eyes.

She licked her lips as she watched him strip out of his many layers of clothes. Finally he stepped, naked, into the tub behind her. Some of the water sloshed out of the tub as he pulled her back against him. It felt much nicer to recline against his warm, hard body than against the cold porcelain of the tub.

They lay like that for a while, Dean's arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on the top of her head. Eventually though, he sat her up and began washing her hair. He poured warm water over her scalp using the porcelain pitcher next to the tub. Then he took the rose-scented soap and lathered her hair before moving down to her neck and shoulders. He bathed all of her, and in spite of the intimacy of his touches, Y/N found only comfort there. She felt pampered and spoiled and it inexplicably made her want to cry a little.

After rinsing her off completely, Dean stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. He pulled open a closet Y/N hadn't even noticed before, and removed a plush, cozy dressing gown. He helped Y/N out of the tub and rubbed a thick towel briskly over her skin before wrapping her up in the dressing gown. 

He drained the tub and then led her over to the bench at the vanity. She sat down and allowed him to towel her hair before he began to run a brush gently through the strands.

All the while, through all of his ministrations, he talked to her; about his day, about his company, the rivals he was going to war with and the people he hoped to bring in as allies and partners. He told her amusing anecdotes about his employees and Y/N learned two new things about him. He was incredibly proud of his work, and he loved the people who worked for him. He talked about their families and knew all about their lives.

As he pulled her hair into a loose braid, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had felt this at peace and content.

Then his clever, long fingered hands found the lavender oil and began a slow, delicious torture.

He pulled her dressing gown off of her shoulders and applied warm, lavender scented pressure to her shoulder blades. Without meaning to, Y/N let out a groan that surprised her in its animalistic nature.

Dean seemed completely unsurprised and merely chuckled. He slipped her dressing gown down to her waist and caressed long, strong strokes of oil into her torso and down her arms. Strong fingers spread warmth and moisture into her breasts and Y/N felt the now familiar fire shoot into her core, and the tension began to build for real.

Dean stood her up, removing the dressing gown completely. He got down on one knee in front of her and, using more oil, ran his hands from her left hip, down her thigh and calf, his fingers brushing a burning heat into her skin before doing the same to her right leg.

Then, before she could blink, he moved to sit down on the vacated bench and pulled her face down across his lap. For a moment, Y/N thought he meant to spank her, and her mind both rebelled and thrilled slightly at the idea.

But soon she felt his fingers running across her backside, rubbing the oil into the soft fleshy skin there. Every time he ran his hand across a cheek, his fingers got increasingly close to the part of her that was dying for his touch.

She could feel his hardening shaft beneath her belly, pushing up against his towel, and it only served to make her even more desperate for him.

Finally she felt his slick fingers slip into the folds of her body. She was so primed, and she was so wet for him, that it took only a few passes of his thumb across the sensitive little button there, for her to cry out her release.

But Dean was far from finished with her.

Helping her to sit up, he positioned her so she was straddling his right thigh. She held onto his upper arms for balance and rested her forehead on his shoulder as she panted and tried to catch her breath. As she breathed in, deep and slightly shaky, Dean took hold of her hips, lifting her slightly and then pressing her down, hard and fast, against his thigh. 

Y/N gasped and caught his eye, a look of surprise and wonder in her gaze as he repeated the action, flexing his thick thigh muscle this time, so that her dripping center began to throb with pleasure, her sensitive skin rubbing against the soft towel covering his leg.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his voice gravelly and heated. Y/N could do nothing but nod frantically. When he did it again, slamming her down harder this time, she cried out and dug her fingernails into the bulging muscles in his upper arms.

He took his hands from her hips and began circling both her nipples with his fingertips, making them pucker tightly. But she wanted him to continue lifting and pressing her against that hard ridge of muscle. She was desperate to feel the pleasurable pressure against her aching core again, and she whined at Dean as she rocked slightly on his leg. 

“Please?” She whispered.

“It’s up to you now, baby. Chase that feeling.” Dean told her, but she shook her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck, embarrassed. Dean pulled away slightly, slipping his forefinger beneath her chin. 

He spoke quietly, but firmly. “You know what you want,Y/N, and you know how to get it. So go on, follow what feels good. Admit what you want and find your pleasure.�� 

He encouraged her by letting his hand fall between her legs to softly stroke the sensitive button there - enough to urge her on, but not enough to provide her the friction and pressure she was craving.

“Dean.” She gasped and tried to push down on his fingers, but he pulled them away. In frustration she lifted herself slightly and then fell back onto his thigh.

“Oh!” She shouted breathlessly as that same incredible sensation swept through her body. She moved her hands to his shoulders and used them for balance and as leverage to lift her hips and then slam herself back down on him, slowly at first, but with increasing speed and intensity. 

Heat swept through her body and her aching need became stronger and stronger the more she pushed and pressed against Dean's hard body. But after nearly ten minutes of chasing her climax she felt herself waning and she dropped, exhausted, against Dean’s shoulder, whimpering softly.

“Poor baby.” Dean whispered in her ear, sending shivers skittering across her skin. 

He let his lips drift down the column of her neck before sucking delicately on her pulse point. Y/N moaned and tilted her head so he could reach it easier. 

“I know you’re tired, sweetheart; do you want me to take over?” She nodded, but he continued quickly. “I’ll warn you though, if I do, I’m gonna keep you coming and coming over and over, till you can’t breathe for pleasure - till you’re completely spent and mindless, only able to scream my name.”

He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and spoke around it. “Is that what you want, beautiful? Hmm?” 

Y/N felt like her body was going to fall over the edge just listening to his rumbling voice describing his plans for her. She nodded quickly, desperate for him to pull her apart.

With her nod, he scooped her up and took her to the bed. He threw the blankets back and laid her down, moving between her legs before stretching out on his stomach. Pulling her thighs open wide, he held her in place as he dropped his mouth to her slick folds, licking and sucking her to a climax in mere moments.

But Y/N soon found out that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he planned on making her fall apart over and over. He brought on the explosions one after the other - endlessly. Occasionally he gave her a few minutes reprieve, one time he even stopped long enough to bring her a glass of water to rehydrate her. But without fail, he’d return to his place between her legs and continue his exquisite torment. 

Y/N lost track of the number of times the powerful, sweeping bliss spread across her body. But the pleasure seemed to go on forever and by the end she was shaking and weeping in ecstasy.

“Please.” She croaked to Dean as she pushed her fingers through his hair. “Can’t…anymore…”

“I bet you can.” Dean said wickedly before pulling the overworked little bundle of nerves into his mouth one more time and sucking deeply.

Sure enough, she exploded again, her limbs heavy and unmoving as her body shook with her release. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her whole body weeped with aching, exhausted pleasure.

Finally Dean moved up from his long-held position between her legs to pull her against his chest. He pushed aside the sweaty tendrils of hair that clung to her temples and forehead, dropping kisses across her cheeks. 

“How are you doin’, sweetheart?” He asked and Y/N could only groan in answer. She heard the smile in his voice as he kissed the tip of her nose. “That good, huh?”

Y/N shivered as her sweat-slicked skin began to cool. She shook her head and her voice was weak and muffled. “I need another bath.”

Dean just chuckled and shook his head. “N’ah, I like you just like this, dripping wet and sated.” 

He kissed her temple and pulled her closer as she drifted off. “And completely mine.”

***

For the next three days Y/N didn’t leave her room and, in fact, spent most of her time in bed.

Dean left her dead asleep in the mornings; she’d wake up to the lingering scent of him on the pillow, but only a cold bed beside her. She appreciated that he let her keep sleeping when he left to go to work - lord knew he exhausted her enough for her to need the rest. But she’d still rather he said goodbye before he left. 

Instead she woke up alone, late in the morning, usually around ten o’clock, and rang down for a light breakfast - toast and jam with a cup of hot chocolate or coffee. After eating, she’d wash and dress in her one and only dress. 

Her suitcases had finally been found and they were on a journey back from Boston, but the train wasn’t expected to arrive for a couple of days, by which time, her new wardrobe would already be there. 

When she was dressed in her gray governess’ uniform, she’d settle into the comfortable green chairs and read for a couple of hours.

Dean usually showed up for an hour or so at lunch, and inevitably her uniform would come off quickly and she’d end up back in bed, with Dean knocking her out for the better part of the afternoon. 

It was without a doubt, the most indolent and slothful she’d ever been in all of her twenty six years…and she was loving it. 

But she was still very happy when, on the morning of the third day, she woke up just as Dean was leaving the bed to dress for work. She reached for him and grabbed his wrist.

“No, don’t go.” She said sleepily, trying to pull him back to her side.

He chuckled softly and leaned sideways so that his upper body stretched over her, while his feet stayed planted on the floor. He kissed her gently and briefly before pulling back to smile at her. 

“Sorry, beautiful girl, I wish I could stay, but I’ve gotta go. And, I’m afraid, I won’t be able to come back at lunch today. I have a meeting at the club at noon.”

Y/N pouted, truly disappointed that she’d have to go all day without seeing him.

He grinned. “I know, trust me, I would much rather have a lunch meeting with you.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, before continuing. “But I’ve put off this meeting several times over the last few days and I can’t postpone it again.”

She nodded a little sadly and Dean kissed her once more, lingering over her lips for a moment and then pulling back reluctantly. “But I’ll tell you what, Lowen should be here this afternoon with your new dresses. What do you say you pick out a walking dress and come out on the town with me tonight?”

Y/N bit her lip, trying to hide both her excitement and trepidation. “Out on the town? Where would we go?”

Dean’s smile turned teasing. “Well, if I tell you, I'll spoil the surprise, but I have all the sights of New York to show you, so wear comfortable shoes.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “None of my shoes will be comfortable. Fashion demands otherwise.”

Dean nodded. “Then I guess I’ll just have to soothe your sore feet when we get back tonight.” He reached beneath the blanket at her feet and Y/N thought he might treat her to a quick foot massage, but instead, she squealed and yanked her feet away from him as his strong fingers began to tickle her toes mercilessly.

He laughed at her affronted expression before kissing her nose quickly and patting her bottom beneath the thick blanket it was covered in, and moving away to get ready.

Y/N dozed slightly as she listened to Dean moving around in the bathroom, enjoying the pleasantly domestic sounds of him washing and shaving. He emerged dressed and ready to leave, heading towards the door. But Y/N sat up and reached out to him, calling him back to her side.

“Kiss me goodbye?” She asked sweetly.

He came to sit on her side of the bed, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, ever so softly. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.” He murmured against her lips, nibbling on them gently.

He smelled of shaving soap and tooth polish and Y/N breathed him in like an elixir. His hair was neatly combed and she didn’t want to ruffle it, so she slipped her hands up to his cheeks, sliding them along the smooth skin there. She knew that by the time she saw him again, his five o’clock shadow would be returned to chafe her skin in that most pleasurable way. 

He turned his head, pressing his lips into the palm of her hand. The action reminded her of the very first time they’d been alone together in the library. At the time, the brush of his mouth over her skin had seemed so scandalous, so brazen. But now, the relative innocence of the caress, the softness and affectionate nature of the gesture, solidified just how far they’d come - how far she’d come - in a matter of months.

And I can never go back.

The thought was fleeting and she banished it from her mind quickly, because it felt daunting; it felt like something too permanent. She didn’t want to think about the future and what it would look like, how it would feel. She wanted to live just right there, in that very moment, with Dean’s lips soft and warm against her skin, the scent of him sharp and heady. 

The future was lifetimes away. It had to be. She needed it to be.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

[echo-bleu]

Noldor Hair Headcanons (4/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

There isn’t anyone left who knows how to do Maglor’s Mourning Braids, but they are described in a lament for Fingon that’s still doing the rounds, so Elrond and Elros make their best try. That style is henceforth known as Elrond’s Mourning Braids (because Elros gets forgotten by the elves a lot after he dies, let’s not lie to ourselves).

A decade of nothing but Mourning Braids really hammers in that Elrond and Elros weren’t just hostages.

It doesn’t do a lot for their reputation, but they don’t particularly care.

Bit by bit, Elros adopts mannish customs after making his Choice, and even goes so far as to cut his hair above the shoulder. Elrond is pre-grieving his brother too much to be properly shocked about this.

(It’s still long enough to braid. It’s fine. It’s not like his brother is leaving him on purpose. Or rejecting him. Elrond knows that.)

Everyone thinks Elrond should wear his hair in the Sindarin custom but he refuses to give up his Noldor braids. Elros braids his brother’s hair until he leaves for Númenor.

Elrond and Gil-galad do each other’s hair through the Second Age. Because they’re the last of their family and the only ones to keep to the old traditions. Not at all because they’re close. Of course not. Wouldn’t be proper. (They spend two hours at it every morning alone in Gil-galad’s chambers.)

Elrond revives his Mourning Braids on his 500th birthday.

Celebrimbor learns about dwarven hair culture. It’s Very Different but kind of similar, in that fancy hairstyles are a status thing. (Or really, long hair/beard is a status thing and then you have to do something with it because otherwise it catches everywhere.)

Narvi isn’t in fact the first dwarf to touch elven hair, but that’s only because Finrod had a very extended concept of family.

Annatar magically braids his own hair, when he even bothers (his hair doesn’t even singe in the forge if it falls into the fire). This hurts Celebrimbor’s sensitivities, but he adapts to Annatar’s ways, and adapts again, and adapts, until he really can’t.

Sauron cuts off Celebrimbor’s beautiful dark braids full of dwarven beads and ties them to the spears of his personal guard. Elrond never quite manages to get that image out of his head.

At war again, Gil-Galad invents locs. Well, re-invents them really, because Silvan elves have worn them forever, but he’s the first Noldor to do it. (He has Fingon’s hair texture. Does that mean he’s Fingon’s son? Who knows. He’s not telling.)

It’s only after Gil-galad’s death that Elrond teaches himself how to braid his own hair.

He hates it.

But he won’t wear his hair loose.

(The first style he masters is Maglor’s Mourning Braids.) (It really shouldn’t be because it’s Intricate but Elrond is nothing if not stubborn.)

Imladris has a full salon, like the Noldor palaces of old.

It doesn’t get that much use, to be honest.

Erestor learns to braid really tiny braids into Glorfindel’s hair, so that he never wears his hair fully loose but it still looks like it’s loose. Everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. Glorfindel thinks it’s the best thing. Elrond watches them with a knowing smile.

Celebrían wears her hair half-loose in the Sindar style until she marries Elrond. It takes him several years to find the strength to ask her to do his hair, but she lets him do hers and he sneaks in more and more braids until they settle on a mixed-style. When he finally allows her to do his hair, Celebrían makes her mother grumpily teach her proper Noldor braids.

Elladan and Elrohir only wear practical Sindarin braids for the day to day, but they delight in doing each other’s hair in complicated styles for feasts and ceremonies. Elrond cries the first time they accidentally replicate Maglor’s favourite hairstyle.

Arwen is a little gremlin who squirms out of her parents’ lap when they try to braid her hair. She’s also inherited even more of Melian’s hair than Elrond, so even when they manage to do a braid, it’s gone in a few hours.

It takes years after Celebrían sails, because they’re all grieving, but eventually Elrohir offers to do his father’s hair, and Elrond lets him. They don’t do it every day, but it’s a large step in their recovery process.

By the way, Thranduil’s thing for flower/leaf crowns isn’t a Sindar or Silvan practice, it’s just that he wanted to be Fancy but Not In a Noldor Way, thank you very much. He’s also very vain. His servants do his hair.

Little Estel is very cute, has very silky hair for a man, even of his line, and makes a great doll for the twins to play with. He likes his hair touched A Lot.

Arwen learns about that early on. She’s a very good silver smith. Aragorn now owns a lot of hair jewellery. He can’t make a braid to save his life, but that’s fine, because Arwen can’t wear them anyway.

In the North, he wears his hair like Elros, cut above his shoulders. Once he becomes King, he lets it grow to his waist. He’s the first Man since Tuor to casually wear his hair in elaborate Noldor braids. He accidentally sets a fashion.

Arwen also does Éowyn’s and Faramir’s hair regularly. The first time is for their wedding. Éowyn isn’t a fan of the unpractical Fëanorian styles, but the Nolofinw��an battle braids look incredibly good on her.

Wandering on the coast for two ages, Maglor no longer does anything with his hair. It doesn’t enjoy the salt at all.

When Elrond finally finds him, he almost has to cut it all off. Instead, he spends weeks carefully untangling and moisturising Maglor’s hair until he can finally braid it in the old style for him. Maglor cries.

Elrond cries too. He cries even more when Maglor sits them down on the floor and braids his hair like he used to.

They sail together with the other Ring bearers, and there’s a lot more crying when they find Celebrían, Gil-galad and Maedhros waiting for them together.

Celebrían is wearing her hair in one of the Fëanorian styles that can be done one-handed.

Galadriel isn’t entirely happy about that, but she sees Finrod and forgets about it.

There’s some more crying.

Fingon is also there (the amount of gold in his hair is a bit blinding, not that Elrond will ever tell him) and also wearing a one-handed braided style.

There are some fights over who gets to do Elrond’s hair in the next few weeks.

Celebrían wins most of them, because she’s inherited Galadriel’s viciousness, but she lets everyone have a turn.

Elrond would like to know why he doesn’t have a say in it.

(He does. They would never touch him if he didn’t want to. They’re just very happy to see him.)

He does go to visit Elwing and Eärendil in their tower, and he goes with his hair down, because he’s a peace-maker at heart.

But in Tirion, he always sports the most complex hairstyles, just barely coming short of overshadowing the High King’s (mostly because his hair is still too silky for it to hold well), because his family all want to outdo each other.

He earns the reputation of being the most beloved of all the Noldor.

It’s not wrong.

Some visuals & more in my art tag

[mercurygray]

Hi Merc! May I request “grey sky” and “memories” for resistance!Joan in the BoB MotA crossover please? Thank you 💕 — @floydmtalbert

I had a little too much fun with this. Thanks for letting me borrow Lou - I hope I did okay! Paris, early 1944, Atelier de Warrenne.

The street outside was quiet, for a Friday.

Joan looked out the window of her office, arms crossed over her chest, and considered the view outside, gray cobbles under gray skies. There'd been a time once when it would have been hard to see the cobblestones - but a lot had changed in four years, and if the empty streets were only the smallest change, it also seemed like the most ominous. The question of where they had gone would not have a happy answer.

She shivered and considered reaching for another sweater, or one of her furs. It was always cold up here now, with fuel rationed, but somehow putting on another layer felt like an admission of defeat. And she was not defeated yet - not by a long chalk, even if the streets were empty and her clients were all speaking in raptures of Berlin. It was not over, and too much depended on that. Downstairs in her salon an officer was helping himself to champagne while he waited for her to emerge so he might ply her with compliments and take her to dinner. Upstairs in her attic another officer was waiting with baited breath until the man downstairs left, and it was rather tenuous whether he would get dinner at all, and that was what was going to make all of this worth it.

It was hard to remember the woman she'd been four years ago - was she still the same now, as she had been then, even after so much change? Some days she didn't feel like it. And yet the sign on the outside of the building was still the same, the labels in her dresses still the same script and scroll, the suggestion of an oriflamme. Maison de Warrenne.

Not quite French enough for the French, not quite American enough for the Americans, and altogether too much of everything for the Germans - except Hauptmann Havermeyer, who like so many of his colleagues wanted a special souvenir from Paris. She would be quite a prize - her uncle the general, her society connections, the strength of her name and her designs. One more beautiful thing to carry back to Germany - assuming that she was deemed worthy of the honor, of course, when all this was over. Perhaps she'd only be the pleasure of a moment. Both possibilities were within consideration, and she didn't have any stars in her eyes about it - unlike some of her cutters and seamstresses, who'd gotten a little heady in those early days over gray uniforms and promises of chocolate. One of the gossip sheets being circulated by the increasingly underground press had written scathingly that this Joan would not be coming to save France, and after six months of being ferried around in his handsome black Mercedes someone had slashed collaborateur in black paint across the doors of her apartment.

Joan's smile brightened a little, thinking about that. Louise and her little English friend had done a good job with that - the right amount of rushed vitriol, letters smashed together in haste, the abandoned paintbrush, like they'd been forced to flee. The silent judgement of her neighbors was worth something, where her reputation was concerned. And Kurt had been so solicitous after that, fretting over her like she'd been wounded, and not the paintwork- did she need guards, better shutters, a watchman?

No one needed to know that it had been carefully planned - the long-ago meetings with her shop steward and her sewing room mistress and one of the chief operators of the Deuxieme Bureau. I am a target of interest - and too high up to simply disappear. They want me for the propaganda value of it - the woman who once dressed as Marianne for her uncle's victory parade. Make me one of your villains, and I'll give you every scrap I can. I have trucks, drivers, warehouses, contacts. We can move things, move people. There will be too many bodies coming in and out of the studio to make an exhaustive study.

And here they all were. The designer in her lofty atelier was a traitor- and hiding behind her were half a dozen people working tirelessly to protect France.

Her stomach rumbled, and she thought again of the man upstairs in the attic. She'd been working late last night when Louise had smuggled him in, the two of them trying to be quiet on the back stairs. "Louise?"

Her assistant's face had been difficult to read, emerging from the stairwell. "We're alone," Joan offered. "I sent the others home."

Louise had nodded, and, with a little trepidation, pulled her companion forward into the workroom - an airman, with a man's greatcoat pulled hastily around his own flying jacket. American - he had that look. "This is Madame," she said, gesturing tersely to Joan and speaking in English. "She is doing you a great favor letting you stay here."

He nodded and had touched his head, reaching for a hat he was no longer wearing. "Many thanks, ma'am. I'm Captain Robert R -"

"Your manners are a great credit to you, Captain, but with respect, it will be better if I don't know your name," Joan said, cutting him off quickly, her English feeling rusty on her tongue. "I really shouldn't have seen you at all." She turned her attention back to Louise. "He'll need clothes, I'm sure."

"And papers," Louise confirmed. "The network is working on it."

"I'm very grateful, ma'am," the airman added.

"As am I to you, Captain," Joan replied. He must have been rather handsome, in peacetime, though at the moment it was hard to see - he was in need of a shave and his mustache required trimming, but it was still evident, behind those things, the shape of his jaw and the way his hair curled. His eyes were also a rather fantastic shade of blue - the kind of eyes a woman would notice in a crowd, be entranced by, remember. "And Louise? Be very careful about the suit - something that doesn't bring out his eyes."

Louise nodded, and continued chivvying him up the stairs, leaving Joan to wonder, with a small smile, whether her assistant had made the same distinction about Captain Robert's eyes. She hadn't stopped holding the man's hand, while they'd been standing there - a nervous habit, or something more?

She took another breath and finally reached for the fur stole - her own, not the one Kurt had gifted her. A costume, like the suit Louise would find for the airman, a way to play pretend. His battle was over - but hers continued, and she would continue with it.

[swampstew]

Spoiling Eustass 'Captain' Kid

500 follower milestone achieved ~ thank you to all the lovely folks who like my content enough to follow and constantly support. You are all beautiful beans and I so appreciate every single one of you. As promised, here is the Spoiling Captain Kid bedtime story. Enjoy spoiling our mans♡

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: None! Fluff piece with GN Reader, SFW (with some suggestive spice) but as always my content is only for ADULTS.

Minors DNI you will be blocked

Being with a man like Eustass Kid is anything but easy. His ambitions, his temper, his sardonic and gluttonous personality – all highly guarded walls to keep trespassers away. His reputation and his crew as his guard dogs to keep anyone from getting too close.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t love in his heart. For Killer.

The crew.

For you.

He hadn’t meant to fall for you but he did before he could articulate what he was feeling. By then he was in too deep. Couldn’t get you out of his head, his bed, or his heart.

A Captain has duties and Kid is a busy person. Between strategy meetings, communicating with contacts in the Underworld, commanding the crew and Victoria Punk, his time in the workshop, and everything else in between, you could see that his day-to-day schedule was running him ragged.

You had enough.

No man, not even Eustass Kid, is immune to burnout. Working out the details with Killer, you plotted a day of pampering and relaxation for the aggressive redhead. Whether he wanted it or not.

The ship is quiet. Too quiet. Kid’s suspicious scowl grew deeper as he walked around. Normally when the crew found a port to dock at, there would be stragglers around the deck nursing hangovers. Not today. He first noticed when he woke up and dragged his feet to the kitchen to grab you and him some water.

Now you were gone too. What the fuck!

Slightly jumping from the bathroom door suddenly swinging open, you stand before him in a cute little outfit that made his eyes dilate. He shook his head out of those spicy thoughts.

“Where the hell did everyone go?”

“Killer gave everyone a day off with a rotating skeleton crew to guard the ship!”

“The fuck? And he didn’t run that by me first?!”

You shake your head at him, “It was decided amongst the Commanders, Killer and me.”

Kid did a double take. “You all did what now???!”

“Everyone has the day off. You included. Now get changed, your itinerary is all filled up.” You pass the handwritten schedule into his flesh hand.

The vein in his forehead throbbed as he looked over the sheet.

Morning – Self-care start with breakfast provided. Full body treatment to follow.

Afternoon – Hot springs and lunch after. Nap optional.

Evening – Banquet with after party. If the Captain behaves, he’ll be provided with an additional gift.

“If I behave?” he growled, lowering the sheet from his face.

“Yep! Try to wear something a little casual since we’ll be out of our clothes a lot.”

That swiped the scowl off his face to be replaced with a grin. A grin he kept on his face as you both strolled through the island lazily. Kid is almost unrecognizable wearing shorts and a muscle tank top, his trademark goggles traded in for a pair of large, tinted sunglasses with golden rims. The day is bright and sunny, not too many people out on the streets, and his lover hanging off his arm – not a bad way to start his imposed day off.

When you reached your destination you almost had to pull Kid inside.

“We’re here stop dragging your feet!”

“You didn’t say anything about a nail salon!”

He much preferred to paint his nails himself, even after he lost his left arm he insisted on trying to use his power to create a normal sized-scale prosthetic. While it was manageable, it was nowhere near as precise or cleanly done as when he had both organic arms.

“Who cares? They get paid to do a job no matter how crusty your toenails are!”

“Y/N I AM NOT CRUSTY!!!!!!”

In the end you manage to pull him in. Kid remains entirely silent; face flushed as he sits in a leather chair that also had a massaging feature while his feet soaked in a heated tub. The manicurist quickly removed and painted his nails on his right hand while an adventure drama played on a screen, not once daring to speak aloud. Even the visual transponder snail seemed nervous, the screen slightly rippling on the edges.

You came through the door carrying a platter and two bags hanging from your arms. While your feet and back experience the same treatment as Kid, you hand feed him donut balls and ripped off pieces of bagels. He even has you lift his iced coffee for him to drink so he doesn’t have to move his body from the pulsing chair.

Nails freshly done and bellies satiated, you both head to the back of the salon. Through a heavy glass door, you both find yourselves in a spa house. Kid quirks his hairless eyebrow at you.

“Look, I’d normally take care of you myself but you’re…particular with how you like things done and I’d rather not get yelled at. Humor me and I promise you’ll feel stress free and relaxed and maybe add 5 years to your lifespan ok?”

With a grunt he gently shoves you off to the side in annoyance as he walks up to the receptionist. To Kid’s horror, he is to be subjected to a hot stone massage, a full facial, and then dipped into salt-rich mud for gods only know how long.

He enjoys it even if he tells you he hated every second.

Your room is next to his while you receive your own massage and you could hear his pleased growling and muffled moans as the massage therapist worked out kinks from his back not even Killer or you could work out. You didn’t hear him object to the facial and you thought you might have even heard him hum when the specialist told him they didn’t know why he needed it on his flawless face. That made you scoff; you were just trying to spoil your man – and on your own dime, thank you very much! Kid is ANYTHING but a cheap date.

Nothing could prepare you for how utterly out of character Kid looked while he reclines in the mud bath. The Dead Sea mud is known for its purgative and restorative properties. It exfoliates and tightens skin, eliminates harmful bacteria, and nourishes the skin and scalp.

Healing qualities aside – Kid is covered entirely in mud save for around his eyes. Even his hair was thoroughly coated. You hold back a laugh and sink your body next to his, working the nutrient rich mud over your skin and hair. It’s only an hour but time feels eternal in the chamber, the harmonic sounds of tuning forks and melodic singing bowls being rung as you both slipped into a tranquil, meditative state.

Free from the mud, its only logical that the next stop is a hot spring. After another rinse, you both settle into a private heated pool and enjoy each other’s company. Your bag held a bottle of champagne which you had the staff chill, and you were now making bottomless mimosas. A heated bath plus alcohol equals a nice buzz and a voracious appetite. After your soak, you take the lead and bring him to a delicious restaurant where you watch Kid devour meal after meal. You are always impressed with the bottomless pit he called a stomach.

“I’m not a child,” Kid scoffs once you come back to the ship. “Don’t need a nap.”

“You might not but I do! We had a busy day and I’m full from lunch. If you want to just cuddle that’s fine too.”

Ever the edgy punk he is, he turns red at the mention of cuddling and throws the clothes he took off directly at your face. He ends up cuddling anyway. And once your lulling breaths signaled your descent into sleep, he swiftly follows, holding your warm body snug to his.

Hours pass quickly and when Kid wakes up he’s pleased to see you curled up on his chest. He plays with your painted fingers until the sounds of hunger rumble from his stomach to his chest, waking you up.

“Finally! Been dying to eat but SOMEBODY was trapping me down.”

“M’mm soo sorry your majesty,” you grumble with side eye, getting up from the bed and beating him to the bathroom first.

If there’s one thing you know about the Kid Pirates aside from their…rabid violent tendencies…is that they know how throw a party and banquet. The deck is filled with dining tables displaying mouthwatering dishes, roasted meats, and tons of liquor.

Killer got the band together for live music and it warmed your heart to see how amiable Kid is when he truly let loose. Not that the crew never got to see that side of him, just that those moments were far and few between with how demanding finding the One Piece is. And trying to take down the powers of the world.

Choosing to focus on the present, you dance along with the crew as the music flows, drinking, and having fun. You find yourself in Kid’s lap as you eat and talk shit with the others, he keeps a close grip on you with the occasional affectionate squeeze. You manage to steal a glance at him and see he has the happiest smile on his face as he looks down at you. A lovely image that makes your heart flutter and return his smile. Not at all rolling your eyes as he gently grabs your chin and turns your face around.

When the night is over, Kid playfully throws you on the bed with a wide smirk on his face as he crawls over your body.

“Alright what’s my gift?”

“Under the bed.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, “Oh you mean an actual gift? That wasn’t an innuendo?”

“I bought you an actual gift that’s going to change your life.”

He snorts at that but then looks under the bed for his gift. Pulling out a gift bag, he sits down next to you and looks inside. A confused look on his face, he pulls out a sleek, gun-looking mechanism.

“You planning to shoot me or something?”

“In a sense.”

The bewildered look he gives you makes you laugh aloud.

“It’s a massage gun! There are different shaped pieces that you can interchange to fit the massage and area you want to target. Let me show you, take off your vest.”

He rolls his eyes but does as you say, “Doubt this teeny tiny toy can do anything of significance.”

The massage gun comes to life with a low buzzing hum. You attach one of the heads to the nozzle and brace yourself.

“C’mon get it over with already! I hate waiting for dissapo—OH MY GODS!!!”

By the time you’re through with him, he’s a drooling pile of putty laid out on your lap.

[momotonescreaming]

We know that Steve thinks his Dad is an asshole, but he doesn’t really mention his mother other than a few off hand comments. She goes on his Dad’s business trips because she doesn’t trust him not to cheat, she’s well respected in Hawkins, and Steve used her as a reference when he applied for the job at Family Video. So I got to thinking about what if she was a good person also trapped under the pressure of Mr Harrington, just like Steve? What if Steve had a good relationship with her? And this happened

Mrs Harrington who loved her husband once, who had a husband who loved her back. She loved his ambition, his drive, his dedication. She didn’t love it when it started to turn into him spending all hours at the office, at business meetings. When it started to turn into something money hungry. But it was his job. He knew best. Right?

Mrs Harrington has a baby because she wants one. She’s always wanted to be a mother. Mr Harrington has a kid because it’s What You Do. You have a kid so they can take over your company, carry on your family legacy. Uphold the Harrington name. His reputation. A nanny can raise them when they’re little. When they're older they can follow in his footsteps. Popular, likes cars, plays basketball.

Mrs Harrington raises little Steve as much as she can. He’s a little Mama’s boy. She’ll go to the salon to get her hair done and Steve sits in the chair next to hers, driving his toy cars up and down the seat. Steve drags her outside so he can show her this “Really cool swimming trick, Mama!” and she watches him happily from the porch seats, commenting that he swims so well is he sure he’s not part fish? He’ll watch her put her make up on and get ready for a Charity Gala she’s organising. He tells her she’s beautiful, Mama and she’ll run one of her big fluffy make up brushes across his cheeks so he can be beautiful too.

Steve gets older and Mr Harrington takes over in shaping Steve’s life. He’s a man now. A Harrington. Mrs Harrington isn’t quite sure what to do. She thinks her husband might be a bit harsh but he was a teenage boy once, he must know what’s best for him. Right? He’s the man of the family. The head of the household and what he says goes. She isn’t so sure now, but it’s what her father always taught her. It’s what she always learnt in Church. She fawns under his harsh gaze and feels the guilt churning in her gut as she doesn’t know what to do. Steve starts pulling away from her, and her husband keeps flirting with his young secretaries.

It comes to a head in Steve’s senior year when she’s with her husband on a business trip in New York. Her husband’s secretary gets a call that Steve’s in the hospital after getting into a fight with another student - Billy Hargrove. Her husband brushes it off as ‘Boys will be boys’. A Harrington shouldn’t have lost. Maybe this will teach him about consequences. Did he even think about what this could have done to their reputation? He doesn’t tell his wife.

Mrs Harrington is the only one in their hotel room when the secretary calls again with an update from the hospital. She finds out that he knew that their only son was in the hospital and didn’t tell her. It’s the last straw. Her husband comes back to the hotel room smelling of expensive liquor and someone else’s perfume. They get into a screaming match and she packs her bags and calls a taxi. She calls the hospital from the airport that she’s on her way.

She gets the first plane she can and rushes straight to the hospital. The nurse at the reception desk tells her what room he’s in and she tears up as soon as she sees Steve.

“Oh my baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve locks eyes with her and his eyes water. “Hi Mama.” His voice is quiet.

She rushes over to hug him and his teary eyes turn into violent sobs, her whispering comforting nothings to her baby boy as he cries. She came as soon as she heard, she’s so sorry, he’s okay now. She doesn’t tell him yet that she wasn’t there earlier because her husband didn’t tell her. Her wedding ring feels heavy on her finger.

When Steve is recovering at home, asleep in the other room, she rings a divorce lawyer.

[meowbomb]

I don’t think who killed Bonnie matters but what caused it and who Bonnie was is more important.

Something I’ve always thought about in security breach was that Bonnie’s green room changed locations.

In security breach his green room was in rockstar row

However I think this was changed in ruin with this becoming his green room. The pause menu message even calls it Bonnie’s green room.

(I probably know this was probably a retcon but let me dream real quick.)

Of course they’d move his stuff into a spare room if Bonnie was decommissioned. However, how do we know if this was the case?

Most of the messages in security breach have no specific date on them. We just have to guess where they take place in the timeline based on the contents of the message.

I’m going on the wild idea that Bonnie was being slowly taken out of the spot light. Now you might ask “Bonnie was popular that kids asked about him, why would the company want him gone?”

It’s quite simple. In security breach and ruin, there’s no clear picture of who Bonnie really was. We have no idea what Bonnie was like. Sure, Freddy loves and grieves him but bear in mind, Freddy still considered Roxy, Chica and Monty as his friends despite the fact they were hunting down Gregory. He was still horrified with their fates even though they threatened Gregory because Freddy still saw good in them. The same goes with his relationship with Bonnie.

All the animatronics in the pizzaplex all act out in some form. They each have their problems. I think it’d be more strange if Bonnie wasn’t doing anything bad. Most of the animatronics have attacked staff bots: Roxy decapitates them, Chica attacked them for food, Moon (and probably Sun to a degree) rips endos and staff bots. Monty hasn’t been said to have attacked a staff bot but he has broken fences and Freddy was in safe mode during the game.

Besides don’t you think it’s quite interesting the bowling screens show Bonnie attacking the pins in an almost sadistic way?

That’s why they’d move Bonnie away from the spot light. If he’s becoming a major problem, Fazbear Entertainment does not want him to possibly damage their reputation further therefore they need to put a stop on him. They made first help wanted game to build their reputation back up and to play off past mistakes as “rumours”

The glamrocks contradict the personalities they were programmed with. Roxy is the cool one with a beauty salon but she has major insecurities. Chica is the fitness guru centred around food but has an impulse control issues and binge eats. Monty is a laid back rising rockstar yet has anger issues and stays away from shows.

But Bonnie? We don’t know. The stuff in Bonnie bowl is little to go off in all honestly and the most you could get was that he’s also this sorta laid back guy but is that really all?

It’s also really funny to note alligators, rabbits, wolves and chickens are mostly social animals meanwhile bears are more solitary except for a few.

If Bonnie was becoming a problem for the pizzaplex, fazbear entertainment would slowly relegate Bonnie to just a side show in Bonnie Bowl like how Monty was probably just a side thing in Gator Golf. They don’t want to risk anything with him. They no longer let Chica sing because of the risk of lawsuits after she did instead of trying to fix anything. If Bonnie is popular and held no risk, why wouldn’t they try to bring him back? Yeah Monty could be more profitable but Monty is just a side thing like the Daycare Attendant and DJMM compared to a popular member of the main band.

Fazbear entertainment wanted Bonnie gone. His decommissioning was the perfect opportunity and they took it. They just needed a replacement and Monty was the best option and next in line.

I’m not saying Bonnie was 100% evil or 100% good. But the circumstances and what drives something to attack him is interesting. Was it out of malicious intent? Self defense? Or an accident? Who knows. But the reason can change everything.

[aoyama-division]

The morning sun cast a golden hue over the city of Shinagawa as Miho Kobayashi, known to many as the "Iron Maiden," awoke to the day that marked another year of her life. Today was not just any birthday; it was the one preceding her union with Tomi Chōten, the "High Class" socialite whose love for her was as vast as his family’s fortune.

"A fine morning to you, madam," Goro, Miho's butler greeted his mistress as she came downstairs in her robe. "And a most joyous of birthdays to you. Brunch has already been prepared for you. I hope you will enjoy it."

"Thank you, Goro." Miho stated, as she down and prepared to eat.

"Also, madam, a letter arrived for you this morning," Goro said, pulling the letter from his coat pocket. "It is from young Master Chōten."

At Tomi's name, Miho ceased eating her pastry dish and looked up in surprise. Taking the letter, as well as the letter opener, from her loyal servant, she opened and read what was inside:

"My Dearest Miho,

As the sun graces the sky on this auspicious day, I find myself reflecting on the joy and light you bring into my life. Today, the world celebrates not just the CEO who inspires awe, not just the woman who commands respect, but the soul that has captured my heart—my queen, my soon-to-be wife.

On this day, your birthday, I wish for you to be adorned in the luxury and beauty you so richly deserve. Enclosed with this letter, you will find a Master credit card, a small token of my love and admiration for you. I bid you, my dearest, to let your heart's desires lead the way. Indulge in the elegance of the city's boutiques, the serenity of its spas, and the splendor of its jewels. Today is a canvas, and you are the artist—paint it with the colors of your passion and grace.

As the evening approaches, I ask that you prepare yourself to be ready by 6 P.M. For tonight, I shall have the honor of escorting you to a celebration befitting the queen of my heart. A night of enchantment awaits us at the Tokyo Garden Theatre, a place where dreams intertwine with reality.

Until then, my love, enjoy the day that sings your praises. I await the moment when I can once again behold your radiance and share in the joy of your existence.

With all my love and adoration,

Tomi"

Miho's heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and a touch of nervous anticipation as she read Tomi’s letter. His words, always so full of adoration, reminded her of the queen she was in his eyes. The Master credit card that accompanied the letter was a token of his desire to spoil her, a gesture that spoke of his generosity and deep affection.

As she ventured into the city, the boutiques and salons welcomed her with open arms, eager to cater to the whims of the CEO whose reputation for elegance was only matched by her business acumen. Silk dresses that whispered against her skin, jewels that sparkled with the promise of forever, and fragrances that captured the essence of her strength and grace—Miho indulged in them all. Yet, amidst the luxury, her thoughts drifted to Tomi, to the life they would build together, and the love that had become her truest treasure.

The hours slipped away like pearls from a broken string as Miho pampered herself, each moment a step closer to the evening that would celebrate her existence. Returning home, she adorned herself in a gown that was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its fabric hugging her form like a lover’s embrace.

As the clock struck six, Tomi Chōten, known to the world as "High Class," arrived at the grand estate of Miho Kobayashi, the indomitable "Iron Maiden." The evening air was crisp, carrying the anticipation of the night’s festivities. Tomi, dressed in a suit that whispered of his lineage and wealth, extended his hand to Miho with a smile that could outshine the chandeliers of the Tokyo Garden Theatre.

"Happy birthday, my queen," he said, his voice a melody of genuine affection. "Tonight, the stars have descended to celebrate you."

Miho, radiant in a gown that mirrored the night sky, took his hand, her heart fluttering like the wings of a captive bird finally set free. Together, they stepped into the limousine, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and silver as they journeyed to the secret overlook in Aoyama.

The view from the highest point was breathtaking—a tapestry of Tokyo’s skyline, stitched with the threads of countless lives and stories. Tomi’s gaze, however, was fixed on Miho, the soft glow of the city illuminating her features.

"I brought you here because this is where I feel closest to my true self, without the weight of everyone's expectations on me," Tomi confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And to my brother, Kunio. My heart carries the weight of Kunio’s absence. He despised the gilded cage of our birthright and chose freedom over fortune. I… I was too weak to join him, too afraid to break the chains of expectation."

Miho listened, her heart aching for the pain in Tomi’s confession. She squeezed his hand, a silent promise to be the strength he needed, to be the partner who would stand by him through the trials of their shared destiny.

Together, they journeyed to Aoyama’s peak, where the city lay spread out before them like a kingdom awaiting its rulers. It was here that Tomi shared his vulnerabilities, here that they found solace in each other’s company, and here that they reaffirmed their commitment to face the future as one.

The gala awaited, its splendor a reflection of their status, yet as they made their grand entrance, it was their love that shone brightest. The orchestra’s melody swelled as they took their thrones, the "King" and "Queen" of the night.

The night unfolded like the petals of an exotic bloom, each hour more intoxicating than the last. And then, as the clock neared the stroke of midnight, Tomi stood, his presence commanding the room’s attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his love, "The next performance is a tribute to the woman whom I've dedicated my life to—my fiancée, Miho."

Holding out a hand for her to take, the CEO reciprocated and followed her husband down the stairs to the middle of the ballroom. With their HypMics in hand, the audience waited in anticipation of what was to come...

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine you are the good girl Aemond Targaryen needs.(I)

Warnings: smut/fluff.

***

Aemond usually prefers more aggressive women. The ones who dominate him, who know how to make him weak. He still bears in mind the one time Aegon took him to the brothel... And in the rare times he felt the need to go back, he knew whom to come for.

Perhaps this evening is a good occasion to be under a woman's...care. Such is his thought as he is obliged to attend some feast the dowager queen is giving. Dressed in green robes, Aemond is taking his duty seriously--as he was educated to--, but his mind is wandering to a way to flee this very boring feast.

Until the purest being comes along, who successfully captures this prince's eyes. Dressed in a green-ish blue silk gown with two long braids dropping each side of yours, you walk in the great salon without any pretense.

Rather shy, you are hoping not to get anyone's attentions despite exhibiting an almost ethereal beauty with your y/c hair and y/c smooth skin. Your long gown falls perfectly in your body, reinforcing your curves at the same time it is so discreet. You are unaware many men, young and old, are looking at you, hoping for an opportunity to get to you.

Aemond hates competition, though. Like a hunter he comes for you. Without your notice, he sits right beside you.

"I wonder what has been in my lady's thoughts to distract her from the feast."

You blush, eyes going slightly wide when seeing the prince has come to speak to you. Why would he do that is beyond your understanding.

Graciously, however, you answer him:

"I do apologize for not seeing you earlier, lord. I am not one who goes out frequently. In fact I fear to say I am hardly the most appropriate companion to a prince."

Aemond is amused by your behavior. Whilst it's true he is not usually attracted by timid, quiet individuals of your sex, there is something so alluring about you, so invitive, perhaps a sort of redemption he aims to purchase. And of course you are the fairest damsel of that salon.

"Allow me to disagree, my Lady. My mother, the Queen, is most pleased to have your family joining us to celebrate my brother's ascension as the king of the realm", so says Aemond, quietly so.

As he takes a seat by your side, you try not to overthink too much that the handsomest Prince of Westeros is next to you.

"I heard many things about you, Lord", you tell him, daring to cast a look at the prince. Aemond is watching you with his good eye. "Should I presume your reputation preceeds you?"

He chuckles. Aemond realizes there is quite a wit underneath your sweet demeanor. He is more intrigued to get to know you.

"That depends of what you heard. Should I fear what has come to my lady's ears?"

You take the opportunity to divert away from his inquiry gaze so you take your time to taste the wine. Only then you tell him.

"That you are dutiful, but a man who possesses a dark soul."

"What is your judgement?"

"I cannot judge by others's perceptions", you tell him. "Though no one seems to ask or care, I can think by myself."

Aemond's smile spreads before your sharp answer. Oh, Lady Y/N. Aren't you an interesting little thing?

"Very well. That is wise. I should like to give time to hear your views about me, fair lady. Though I should warn you that there might be some truth in what you have heard about me."

You blush at how intent he stares into your y/c eyes. There is a difference to perceive in how he seeks to denude your soul and the provocation in his words.

"Well. I am not like the ladies you deal with", you dare to respond him.

And that amuses the prince.

"How so?"

You part the gaze as the feast officially begins when the king rises to make his speech.

"You wait and you will see, lord."

The challenge is posed. But you barely knew what is yet to come and how it will change the lives of you both.

(to be continue)

[aneenasevla]

Red Velvet - Chapter 8 part 1

MasterList / Akane’s profile / Last chapter here

Chapter 8 - Christmas Party (part 1)

When she woke up, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to appear, and she felt the bed warm. She looked up, a little groggy, and… she couldn't see very well, she didn't have her glasses or lenses on and she was always more myopic in the morning when she had just woken up. But she recognized the man's bleached hair, his closed eyes and his peaceful expression. And she felt a slight urge to smile, but the smile died when she remembered some things.

Akane, from a very early age, had a certain luck in attracting men. It wasn't as easy as snapping your fingers, or as if you had some kind of magnetism. No, but she knew she was beautiful, that she had attributes that made her stand out, and she also had this analytical side to her that knew how to recognize the first signs of interest, and what was interesting about her to attract them, and how to manipulate them to get what she wanted. It had always been like that, with the boys from her neighborhood, her father's friends when she was a child, with her own friends during her childhood, and even with the boys in elementary and high school. When she started to discover sex, things only quadrupled, but that also earned her a bad reputation.

The bitch, the slut, the backstabber, the rotten picker. She didn't care, so to speak, since she was confident in herself to get what she wanted, even if it was a lollipop from a handsome boy. She could make him bend over and kiss her feet, following her like a drone would follow a queen bee. 

And then everything started to go downhill. After graduating high school and starting to worry about what to do with her life, she ended up returning to stay all the time in the neighborhood where her seamstress mother lived, and after her death, she started, of course, having flings left and right to get what she wanted. But as the saying goes, what goes around, comes around. And some of these men began to think she belonged to them. 

And if she didn't, she wouldn't belong to no one else.

She really didn't want to remember those dark times, a few years ago. She ended up hugging Rihito a little tighter, making him stir in his sleep. She was a little tense, but when he didn't wake up, she sighed in relief. 

It had been a huge problem, involving the cops, a jury and even jail time for one of these men  because of those abuses. That kind of experience had destroyed her inside. All the nonsense about relationships, romance and love that she craved for deep inside; she believed it was all dead and buried, far beyond her reach. Good for those who could find it, but what kind of relationship could a slut like her have?

Mrs. Jin's salon was one of the few places where she felt welcomed after what happened. That old lady was the one who helped her get back on her feet, along with Tomori, Hiro, and even Kanami, when she returned from the United States. In the same hood where she had survived, she found a family that made her blossom again. 

Nowadays, she was very happy having some flings here and there, but the rotten picker she had acquired still remained, so she didn't resort to having more than one relationship at a time like she did in her late teens. 

Then her old friend comes to her and asks her to broke down the ego of a human gorilla who seemed very interested in her. For this friend, she would do it, with pleasure... but... she wondered at what point she stopped playing around and started just going with the flow, and actually enjoying this man's company.

And said man was there now, right next to her, sleeping in absolute peace and having no idea that he was the object of her close scrutiny and one of the subjects of her unpleasant thoughts and depressive memories. The man who had been described to her as a helpless womanizer, with too much ego and too little intelligence, and who needed the life lesson that only she knew how to give more than anyone else.

And said life lesson had worked out so well that it had caused a gradual but noticeable transformation in him, right before her eyes. He hadn't necessarily changed his way of being over those two months of coexistence; he had only toned the bravado down to a tolerable point and allowed himself to show more of the person he was behind the façade of a prideful fighter who was too obsessed with appearing manly. Deep down, that man lying under her covers was one of the most adorable, gentle and soft-hearted creatures she had ever met in recent years, so different from the idiotic thugs that infested that neighborhood, and at the same time at the same time so capable of going toe to toe with them without breaking a sweat. A mixture of monstrous brute strength and sweet gentleness that made her feel protected, rather than intimidated.

She wondered why he hid that side of his, why was he so afraid of showing who he really was, preferring to maintain all his macho posturing and his perverted ways as a way of protecting himself from the world. He, like her, seemed to have some unresolved traumas. And just like her, he only allowed himself to reveal that fragility there, on a lazy winter morning, while he slept peacefully. Thinking that he felt so comfortable around her to unconsciously express that vulnerability made her feel a funny and kind of scary warmth in her chest.

One she knew too well, and that scared her more than any rival she could have. He sat down on the bed slowly, without waking him, and sighed. Why couldn't he be just a fuck-buddy and nothing more? Why did he have to be so cute like that? She felt angry at herself for being stupid and foolish for wanting anything like that. 

It wasn't something she had the right to ask for. 

A slut like her didn't deserve no one's love.

He moved, and she was startled again, but he just turned around and hugged her waist, still asleep, with the same stupid smile on his lips, grunting quietly with satisfaction. She sighed again, and stroked his hair. 

She had to do something; sitting on the fence wouldn't get her anywhere. But for now, she didn't need to make a decision. He seemed to be one of those idiots who, if you didn't say anything, he wouldn't see what was right in front of him, even if he himself was interested in something more. And that was one of the things she found adorable about him, despite being dangerous. 

He lets out another grunt, this one a little louder and clearer, from someone who probably wouldn't take long to wake up. She thinks for a second if it wouldn't be best for her to get out of bed, to try to put her thoughts in order away from him... until she feels a large hand rest lazily on her left boob, that stupid smile still there, plastered on his face.

Welp... adorable or not, a pervert would always be a pervert. She sighs, exasperated and at the same time wanting to laugh.

"Hnnn… Akane…" 

"Do you want me to blow the horn to wake you up? Since you already honked it and everything," She laughs, bending over to reach his balls, which were very close. "Or can I honk another one...?," she threatens while bringing her hand closer.

"Aaaiee!," He starts, his eyes getting wide, removing his hand from her boob immediately. "Alright, alright, I'm awake! I like it when you hold them, but this is a bit too much," He whimpers, and then laughs softly, stretching and looking at her lazily. "Good morning."

She laughs, moving her hand back to hold his face. "Good morning," She looks at the covers. "Haha, you ended up not even wearing the pants yet..."

"Huh, you're right. We kind of forgot about them. But there's no way I was going to wear them at any point during the night, because you wouldn't take long to take them off," He smiles mischievously, and then yawns, a hand over his mouth. "But I can put them on now..."

"Just so I don't feel tempted. I need to focus a little," She theatrically acts innocent. "Ooh, Father, let this cup pass from me!," and then she laughed without being able to maintain the character. She gets out of bed, combing her curly hair with her fingers. "It's somewhere around here. After we put something in, let's eat what you brought yesterday . I'm starving…"

He laughs at her antics, pretending to try to grab her to pull her back to the bed, which she easily escapes. He shakes his head with a smirk. "Yeah, I'm hungry too. I think this is proof of how banging you is addictive…"

She laughs.

Little did he know that he was also very addictive.

But she would never admit that.

…

"... Aaand we're done with this spot," Kanami sighs, clapping her hands together as she contemplates her newest masterpiece: a hearty Christmas dinner, with everything that such a meal entails. In addition to the hotpot, there was the traditional Japanese large pot, a large stuffed turkey, which she had had to stop Ohma from devouring with threats that he would have less dessert than usual after dinner. She smiles at her boyfriend when she sees him sitting on the living room couch with the cat; he used to wait for her while she cooked in that spot, since she had to forbid him from wandering around the kitchen while she was busy and couldn't protect the dishes. "Now we just have to take a bath, get ready and wait for everyone! C'mon, don't give me that look, you'll eat like a king todaty!" 

"Why do we have to wait until midnight to eat? It's all going to get cold...," He had Medeyami sitting on his shoulders, and the cat was hanging from there like a furry, living scarf. "I can understand waiting for the dessert because we eat it cold, but the dinner...," He makes a sad face that made Kanami sigh. It was as if she was starving him, but despite it being a genuine expression, it was also his way of toying with her.

"That's why everything stays in pans and tureens, covered with aluminum foil. It will maintain the temperature. And it's a tradition," She caresses Medeyami's head and then her boyfriend's hair, in a massage that she knew would make him go soft. "It makes the anticipation for Christmas even greater. Makes everything more special."

"Hhnm…," he closed his eyes at her caress, but he still didn't seem very convinced. "In that case we need to hide it from Medey too."

Oh, his rivalry with the cat…

"Ohma, the cat isn't going to touch the food. It's all inside the pans, and it's still hot," She says in a serious tone. "And Medey has already eaten his dinner, he's not a bottomless pit like you."

Ohma made a face, picked up the cat and held him by the armpits.

"Did you hear that?," He said in a warning. "You can't eat until midnight."

"Meooown…," And Medeyami replied.

"Hunf," he put him on the floor. Kanami felt like laughing.

"As much as I think it's cute when you interact with him like that," She puts her hands on her hips "just remember that, when people arrive and start making noise, he'll run away and hide. He's more introverted than you."

"Alright," He gets up from the couch. "We need to get ready, right?"

"Yes, it's that outfit I gave you."

"That wool coat?"

"Sweater," she corrects him. "And yes. I'll use mine too."

"And I have to use that red hat too?," He raises an eyebrow.

"Only if you want. I use it because I like it, but you don’t have to…"

"No, I'll use it," He nods. "I liked it."

She smiles "Look, if you're going to use it just to please me..."

"No, I'm serious," He smiles slightly. "It’s fun. And the hat is warm. And I like red."

She cups his cheeks, and he enjoys the feeling. She always did that when she was feeling affectionate and wanted to show it.

"Okay, if you keep it like this I'll hug you and we won't be ready in time. Let's go."

And he accompanies her.

…

"Oh my God, Ohma, look at you! Damn, Kanny, you actually convinced him to wear the sweater!," Tomori exclaims, excitedly, as soon as Okubo and her cross the arch of the door, he carrying bags with bottles, she carrying a large box, of what one could already assume was cookies of the most varied types. "See, Naoh? I told you you wouldn't be the only one, hahaha."

"Hey, Seaweed Head," He waves happily, showing off his blue sweater. "We’re matching!"

"No, mine is red, yours is blue. And convince me?," He looks at Tomori. He was wearing a typical Santa red hat "It's very warm, and it's cold outside..."

"Thank you Tomoh," Kanami takes the box from Tomori's hand and goes to put it in the kitchen. She then points to Okub. "Okubo, please, put the drinks in the fridge, I set aside a space in it just for them.

"Okay," He nods, reading to the kitchen. 

Ohma was about to follow him the baker's scream "HEY! You are prohibited from going there, sir!"

"Can't I just help?"

"No, you'll help by staying right here and fixing the video game cables with Tomori."

"Damn… what did you do, man?," Okubo asks him.

"He tried to eat the Christmas turkey while it was still raw, can tyou believe it?!," Kanami frowns.

"Raw?! Oh, Ohma... we have to get you some lessons about the dangers of raw food, salmonella and things like that," Tomori shakes her head.

"And he still eat the ham I bought for the cold cuts board…"

"Hey, I went to buy more, didn't I?," Ohma responds sulkily.

"Yes, but that first one was my aged ham with honey and spices. It took me a whole week to prepare, you feral animal!"

"I already apologized," He puts his hands in his pockets, frowning but head down. "I won't do it again."

"Did you hear that, babe? And you complain when I eat a cookie or two from one of your batches...," Okubo jokes.

"A cookie or two is no problem. It's a problem when you separate a quarter of the entire batch all for yourself," She jokes too, smiling sideways. "Your jealousy towards my cookies is cute, love, but this time the box I brought is for everyone. Yours is in the apartment."

"I'll behave, I promise," He smiles, after returning from the kitchen. "Come on, Ohma, we have to set the console up. I convinced Tomori to bring some horror games too."

Ohma opened his eyes in interest.

"It didn't even take that much convincing, seeing you guys playing horror games is so funny," She laughs. "I was only a bit hesitant because Kanny isn't a fan of them, and she's the host, hehe."

"Shut up," Kanami blushes. "I don’t like being scared, and the plots are too engaging."

"More than your arm around my neck?"

"Shut up, Ohma!," she pushes him into the living room, mortified, while he laughs softly.

The doorbell rings, and she turns her head. "Oh, someone's at the door! I'll answer it. Tomori, take over."

"She won't stop giving orders even on a night off, huh," Tomori jokes with an affectionate roll of her eyes, heading to the kitchens, while Kanami went to open the door.

"Good evening," Himuro greets her with a smile, carrying a bag also containing bottles in one hand, while the other was resting on the shoulder of a girl with straight black hair cut close to her neck, her bangs half tossed to the side. "I brought a plus-one, if it’s not too much trouble. She said she knows the hostess, haha."

"Hi, Kanami," The girl, who Kanami recognized as one of Tomori's former college classmates, Mariko, greets, a little shyly. "It's been a while, isn't it? Himuro invited me and assured me that there was no problem…"

"Ooh, hi, Mariko!," She smiles cordially. "Yeah, it's been a while, but don't worry! We're all friends and acquaintances here. Put the heavier coats on the rack here, please," She points to a series of hooks on the wall. "And the drinks are in the kitchen with Tomori, Himuro."

"Alright. I'm just going to greet everyone, and then I'll start," Himuro nods, noticing how Mariko looked at Kanami with an astonishment that she was trying to hide. He approaches her, asking quietly, "Is there a problem?"

"No, no. It's just that I haven't seen her since high school... and wow, she's so in shape. She used to be quite chubby, so I was surprised," She confides, also short, placing a hand over her mouth. Himuro blinks, caught a little out of guard. Okay, that was new…"

"Aah, Mari came! I'm here in the kitchen, girl!," Tomori’s voice is suddenly heard. Mariko starts a little, then smiles from ear to ear, turning to her companion. "Is it okay if I go to say hello? I promise I'll be back..."

"No sweat. It's been a while since you've seen each other other than inside the bakery," Himuro touches a strand of her hair, gently placing it behind her ear. The girl blushes, her dark eyes twinkling, before nodding and walking away. She then notices Ohma and Okubo in the room, her eyes widening a little," "Oh... you are Kanami and Tomoh's boyfriends, aren't you? Nice to meet you! I'll be right back to greet you better...," And she takes off to the kitchens. Himuro smiles sideways.

"Hey, guys. She's a little shy, but she knows how to make a Bloody Mary like a pro. And she sure thought you are handsome, Ohma.

Ohma rolls his eyes, not at all surprised, and goes back to work. Okubo had waved to the girl lightly, and raised his hand higher to Himuro.

"Hey, man!," He smiles. "Look who's finally got some time off during the Holidays!"

"So you’re going to spend the end of the year away from a counter," Ohma comments.

"Yeah, talk about a Christmas miracle. I was lucky that they were able to hire enough assistant bartenders to cover my shifts. Lots of kids looking to earn some money with a part-time job," Himuro takes off his coat, hanging it in the hangers next to the door. He also wore a sweater underneath, this one a soft ocher that contrasted with his tanned skin. It was almost infuriating how good he looked even while wearing that thing. "Anyway, did you bring anything good? We'll play Just Dance, right?"

"Yeah, and we also have Biohazard 8 and Outlast 2… The Evil Within… and there is Doom Eternal for when we get sick of almost shitting ourselves…"

"It's for after midnight," Ohma nods. "Horror games are nicer to play after midnight."

"Who told you that, Ohma?," Okubo looks at him, with an eyebrow raised.

"Everyone…," he blinks, confused.

"Well, whatever, you'tre right," Okubo smiles approvingly. "And it's also good because we're not going to be sober! It's always funnier with a load of alcohol..."

"… I remember when you guys told me how your friend, Mr. Kanoh, broke Okubo's TV, y'know," Kanami comments, in the hallway. "I don't want the same happening here, okay?"

"Oh, Agito wasn't drunk, he's just not tech-savvy," Okubo laughs loudly. "He bought me a new one later, so no hard feelings."

"... Seriously, it's a good thing Agito only drinks once in a blue moon. If he is a weapon of mass destruction while sober, imagine him while drunk," Himuro makes a face. "Anyway! Get a load of what I brought...," He smiles conspiratorially as he takes out, from inside the bag, a dark bottle, with a label printed with cherry blossom petals, which reads 'Kotozakura' in kanji. "Here it is."

Okubo makes an ‘o’ with his mouth, letting out an approving howl. "Woooh, man, that's what I'm talking about!"

Kanami widens her eyes in admiration. "What? Seriously, Himuro?! This sake is expensive as hell..."

"Don't worry, it was a gift from my employer. An extra as a thanks for the assets I won him," He confides, very satisfied. "He's filthy rich, so it wasn't a problem for him. But seriously, go easy on this baby here, it's strong stuff."

"Yeah, we'll be careful," She takes the bottle carefully from him and takes it to the kitchen. "Girls, look at what Himuro brought!"

Tomori appears from the kitchens with Mariko, both laughing quietly at each other. Tomori greets, "Hi, Himuro! And... is that a bottle of Kotozakura?!," Her eyes widen, her jaw dropping, to which Mariko nodded excitedly.

"I didn't believe it either when he showed it to me! You only brought quality stuff, we have enough for the whole night."

"I told you," Himuro combs his hair back a little in that charming way that always left Rihito and Okubo feeling twinges of envy, "So, shall we begin? These guys are dying to get drunk, haha!"

"Yes, I’m just going to greet everyone properly! Nice to meet you, Mr. Okubo! I was shocked when I saw Tomoh's Instagram posts about her dating one of her idols. You lucky girl," She plays with her friend, who laughs happily.

"I know!"

"And you're Kanami's boyfriend, right? It's a pleasure too! Wow, girl...," She speaks more quietly, to Kanami, very surprised. "Where did you get one of those? You and I have the same taste in men!" 

"Take your eyes off him," Kana jokes, smiling. "And he was the one who found me, just like my cat. I have two cats at home now, apparently."

"But I'm not a backstabber," Ohma looks at Kanami, making Okubo laugh.

"Damn, man, are you still calling the cat that just 'cause he stole your food?," he finishes fixing the cables.

"No, it's just my nickname for him. I also call him a 'thief'. If one day I have my own cat, I'll call it like that too."

Kanami sighs, shaking her head.

Mariko blinks, very confused, which only makes Tomori laugh and Himuro say, "Let's say Ohma has difficulty understanding certain social cues. But it's okay, we have fun with it, haha." 

Kanami confides, "it's one of the things I like most about him, actually. Look, he's not ashamed to wear a cute Christmas hat with cat ears."

"Oh... okay then. And really, that's a bonus. Handsome and confident, just like Himuro," She smiles, and Himuro playfully elbows Ohma's arm.

"You hear that? If only Okubo and Rihito had learned more from us from the beginning…"

"He would still be single, because I’m not looking for anything," Ohma smiles. "Is everything ready there, Okubo?"

"Yeah, I'll just let Tomori change the settings because she's better at it than me, but the consoles are all installed," He turns on the TV and gets up. "Tomori, your turn!"

"I'm going to the kitchen, Tomoh!," Kanami says. "Can you answer the door, Mariko?"

"Sure!," Mariko goes to the door, while Tomori bends down to help her boyfriend. She opens the door, smiling. But that smile becomes an expression of astonishment when she sees who just arrived. "Uh... Akane? Agata Akane?!" 

"Mariko?!," The girl opens her eyes wide, and then smiles brightly. "My goodness, it's been so long! Such a small world," She waves, laughing quietly. "How long has it been? A century and a half?"

"Uh... haha, yeah, pretty much! You're even more tanned than I remembered!," Mariko ends up smiling too, but still looking a little taken aback. "I didn’t know that Tomoh and Kanami had invited you to the hotpot…"

"Akane!," Tomori lifts her head from her work, smiling from ear to ear. "Come in, girl, it's freezing cold out there! And where is Rihito?"

"Oh, so this must be Miss Agata," Himuro comments, and Akane could finally see the famous 'hot tanned guy' from the photographs, with his arms crossed, standing calmly next to the guy she recognized as Kanami's boyfriend. "Nice to meet you."

"Oooh, so you guys are the Golden Boys in Tomoh's Instagram pics," She smiles. "Good to know that I don't need to worry about my friends because they are eating good, thank fucking God."

"Oh," Kanami looks seriously at Akane. "Hey, Bitch."

"Hey, Butch! Girl, you look hot as hell," She looks at her from top to bottom. "If you were still a 'vagitarian' I would think about giving you a chance..."

"Go suck a bag of dicks..."

"My favorite!" 

They stare at each other. And then they both laugh loudly, clapping their hands in a high-five.

Mariko blinks, a bit embarrassed, while Tomori rolls her eyes.

"And there they go again...," She says simply while the men can only stare in astonishment. Ohma looks a little confused, but he still raises his eyebrows.

"Ooh, so this is Canibal…," He nods. "Where’s Ichiro? Did you eat him before coming?"

"I would've loved to, but I was busy getting ready, honey," She fixes her hair. "Speaking of which, where is he? He still hasn't come in?"

"Hey, Himuro, pay up," Okubo extends his hand, speaking softly. "He ran away from her like the devil runs away from the cross. Told you so."

"Calm down, man. Lower your hand, we're still not sure," He responds quietly before raising his voice. "Rihito didn't come? Usually he would be the first one to enter through that door, singing the obscene version of some Christmas carol...," Himuro comments, to which Tomori answers, "No, he hasn't shown up yet. Did he really come with you, Akane?"

"Yeah, he did, I swear…," She blinks, looking over her shoulder. "Oooh, there you are! Seriously, man, you're embarrassing me here," And she laughs.

"Leave me alone, damn it! Do I really need to use this thing?," They hear Rihito's voice clearly, to which Himuro smiles triumphantly at Okubo.

"See? Don't count your chickens before they hatch."

Okubo pouts.

"Rihito?," Kanami calls. "Get out of the cold, man, everyone is wearing sweaters too!"

"But I doubt your sweaters look like glitter-filled marijuana paste!," He whines, and Himuro and Tomori laugh, the latter raising her voice, "But the fun about wearing these sweaters is joking about how tacky and ugly they are! Don't be so prideful, come on, even Ohma is wearing one!"

"Uh... yeah, now that I noticed, only the men are using those...," Mariko comments, blinking, to which Tomori laughs more.

"Kanny and I couldn't waste the joke, hahaha!"

"Hey, I'm also wearing one, are you kidding me?," Kanami laughs.

"You don’t count, Butch," Akane laughs too, showing off her manicured nails. "You have the best of both worlds."

"Fuck you," Kanami laughs louder.

"She's right," Ohma comments, and chuckles when she throws a pillow at him, defending himself calmly.

"Come on, Rihito, stop being dumb!," Himuro calls, cupping a hand next to his mouth. "Don't you want to take a pic of all of us lined up, like a football team, to send to Kaneda?"

"... Only if I can change sweaters with you!"

"No fucking way. Hold off on your marijuana paste until the party ends and try not to cover Miss Kanami's couch with glitter."

"For fuck's sake...," They hear Rihito's voice approaching, growling mortified, "I swear, woman, the things I do to make you laugh...," And he appears in front of the door, his face red, and the sight of the green, sparkling monstrosity that was that sweater, with the words ‘Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal’ on it, provoked general laughter.

"Ugh… Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, you assholes," He snorts.

"I told you it would be funny," Akane laughs loudly. "Did you like it, girls?"

"Damn, Akane, you're terrible," Kanami smiles. "It looks great, Rihito. Relax, come in, everyone's wearing the same."

"He was going to buy one that had two deers fucking printed on the front, but I didn't let him in consideration for you guys, so you're welcome," Akane points to the baker.

"Leave me alone, Cockatoo! And the one with the deers fucking was funnier than this one. What's the point of an adult party if we can't even have a little fun?," Rihito pouts.

"Thank you for that," Kana nods. "Put the drinks in the kitchen, Rihito, and make yourself at home, Akane, but not too much and specially not with our men!"

"Man, you always spoil the fun! Thank fuck I brought one from home," She jokes, entering the living room. "Hey, dearies, I'm here."

"Hey, Miss Agata," Okubo laughs softly, shaking his head.

Akane was wearing a simple shirt with little cleavage (not that it made much difference) and jeans. She was also wearing heels and blue lenses, her hair neatly arranged and in a ponytail, showing her colorful locks. On her head there was a tiny Santa hat in a tiara.

"Girl, I love the tiara!," Tomori exclaims happily. "And I'll love taking a photo of you all as a souvenir! But let me do the introductions first. Mariko, this is Nakata Ichiro-"

"Rihito!"

"But he prefers to be called by his nickname. He's accompanying Akane today. And this is Ishikawa Mariko, a friend from college days," Tomori rolls her eyes a little, at which Rihito turns to Himuro's date. He smiles sideways, his eyes fixed on her, to which the girl looks away, a little shy. Himuro and Tomori immediately tense up. They didn't want to believe that idiot would start being inconvenient right now, and even more so when he was already accompanied-

"Nice to meet you, Miss Ishikawa!," He approaches, and Tomori was already preparing to intervene if he tried to grab her friend in another one of his rib-breaking hugs... but she suddenly stops when he just extends a huge hand. Mariko blinks, but soon recovers, more relieved, as she accepts the greeting.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Nakata."

"You can call me Rihito. You're Himuro's date, right?," He smiles smugly. "Be careful when you play Just Dance with him, okay? That GoGo Boy wannabe hypnotizes chicks with his Shakira-like moves," He jokes, and Mariko ends up giggling.

"You, the male version of a Brazilian funk dancer, are one to talk," Himuro snorts, but his expression was one of slight astonishment. He exchanges a brief discreet look with the others, seeing that everyone there shared the same thought.

Rihito, greeting a woman like a normal person, without harassing her? Was that the last Christmas before the end of the world?

"Hey, Ichiro," Ohma says; he seemed to be the only one who wasn't fazed by anything that was going on. "We're going to have some horror after midnight too."

"Horror?," Akane blinks. "We came to a Christmas party just to watch a movie?"

"Nah, he's talking about games," Okubo smiles.

"Wow, this is going to be interesting," Akane smiles a little, looking at Rihito.

"Ooh, nice! I'll be able to watch you guys embarrass yourselves in front of the girls, screaming like crazy at every jump scare!," He laughs, to which Himuro grumbles, "Look who's talking, the guy who gave the excuse that he had to go take a piss whenever Chris Walker appeared on screen to chase us."

"I drank too much that day, man, it just happened that these moments and the trips to the bathroom coincided!"

"Yeah, sure…"

"I'm a little scared of these games...," Mariko pouts, leaning against Himuro, who pats her shoulder with a satisfied half-smile. Rihito immediately turns to Akane with hopeful smugness.

"You can hold my hand if you get scared too, okay? You can even sit close to me if you want..."

"I'm kinda scared of them too, Mariko, at least you're not alone," Kanami says.

"And I'll pay the price for that," Ohma laughs, and when she gives him a dirty look he responds, "Relax, I like it."

"It seems he's the masochist type," Akane whispers to Rihito.

"You betcha. His girl puts him in a neck-breaking armbar and he just stays there, looking like he's actually getting a leglock," He whispers back.

"Well, since everyone is here, I think we can start with the drinks. Himuro, feel free to do the honors," Kanami said, always the eager hostess, with the air of a leader.

"Leave it to me. You coming, Mariko? They already know about my skills as a barman, but not yours. How about we show off a little?," He smiles at Mariko, whose face lights up.

"I’d love to!"

"And in the meantime we'll stay here, choosing the first games of the night," Tomori says as she kneels next to Okubo, whispering to him, "Do you want me to hug you this time while you're playing? I don't mind at all, hehe."

"Well, normally you’re the one who hugs me, but I’ll love it anyway," he smiles back at her.

"Hey Kana, where’s Hiro?," Akane asks. "Won't Satan's Spawn join us?"

"Oh, Hiro sent a message saying he won’t be able to show up. Apparently his current date is a bit too affectionate, and he decided he wanted to spend Christmas alone with him to see if he could score," Tomori explains, smiling scathingly.

Akane laughs coquettishly without opening her mouth "Wow, even him is getting it good. Tell him I'm sending him kisses. I miss him, he never showed up at my neighborhood again either. I miss us going out drinking, he was a better rat catcher than me, ahahahaha."

"Hey Himuro," Ohma calls, asking quietly. "What's a 'rat catcher'? Does Cannibal eat mice or something?"

Himuro lets out a high-pitched sound of barely contained laughter, quickly placing a hand over his mouth. "Ahaha! No, bro, that's how we call people who go around having casual relationships with anyone. Rihito is a male example."

"Shut up! I have great taste...," Rihito looks sideways at Akane, seeing her laughing and making jokes with her friends. And Himuro raises his eyebrows a little when he hears how his voice has softened almost imperceptibly.

"She's the one who has terrible taste," Okubo laughs to his friend. "Now you look like that marijuana cat from Pokemon."

"Stay there unwinding cables with your girl and don't fuck with me, Chrome Dome head!," Rihito growls while Himuro laughs heartily. Even Mariko chuckles, which only makes Rihito more embarrassed.

"I look like a cat too," Ohma says. In fact, he seemed a lot happier lately.

"A very cute one, by the way," Kanami says.

"Aaand we're done!," Okubo announces, finishing adjusting the cables with Tomori. "Let's choose what we'll play first."

"I was going to suggest Just Dance, but it gets a lot funnier with alcohol on our systems," Himuro comments while Mariko brings glasses from the kitchen. "Unless you guys want to start making asses of yourselves right away."

"Karaoke!," Ohma raises his hand. Kanami laughs.

"I down for karaoke too," Okubo votes.

"Yep, they really want to start making asses of themselves now," Himuro shakes his head. "Fine by me."

"Nah, they won't," Akane smiles. "Come on, I want to hear y'all."

"Aren't you also going to participate?," Okubo raises an eyebrow.

"With that voice of mine? Nah, I'll spare your ears," she smiles.

"Oh no, don't give me that! You’re going to embarrass yourself like everyone else," Kanami laughs. “You're not getting away this time.”

"Thanks," Ohma takes a drink from Himuro.

"Oh come on, I've heard you singing in the shower," Rihito pokes Akane's hip, smiling mischievously. "You're not bad at all," He accepts when Mariko offers him a drink too. "Thanks, Miss Ishikawa!," And he pours the drink into his mouth, shaking his head afterwards. "Wow, that was some strong shit!"

Mariko's eyes widen, and Himuro snorts, "Take it easy, you drunkard..."

"Karaoke sounds good to me!," Tomori raises a hand, excited.

"Then it's decided. Who goes first?"

"By the house rules, it's Kana," Ohma says. "She's the hostess after all…"

"But you also live here! That makes you a host too," she smiles mischievously at him. He widens his eyes, caught off guard.

"But you sing better than me," he tries to say, drinking afterwards.

"Du-et, du-et!," Akane starts to sing-song, clapping her hands.

"Yeah, get it going!," Rihito laughs and takes another drink, lifting it into the air. "And please choose some pretty sappy song, Auntie, I wanna see the Seaweed Head belting out until tears fall from his eyes!"

"This is easier to happen in Okubo and Tomori's case," Himuro jokes, and Mariko giggles when Tomori blushes a little.

"Come on Ohma, the sooner the better," she extends her hand to him. He looks at her, and then smiles a little.

He takes her hand and stands up, putting his drink aside. Akane claps, the others going along with her with applause and whistles. Rihito, as expected, was the one who whistled loudest, sticking his fingers in his mouth, making poor Mariko jump in fright and almost spill her drink on her skirt.

"Come on, Tokita, get this shit started!"

"Go Ohma, kick some ass!," Okubo laughs. "You too, Miss Kanami!"

"Go Butch, make your bitches proud!," Akane shouts.

Tomori laughed out loud, also drinking. Himuro just shook his head, immediately pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Kaneda will love to see this..."

"Okay, let us choose," Kanami was blushing. She shows it to Ohma. "This is the one I showed you the other day..."

"Oh, I like this one," he nods. It doesn't take long before the music starts playing.

They start the vocals immediately, Kanami with her low-pitched voice, with Ohma joining her on the chorus. Akane's eyes widen while she grabs Rihito's arm.

"My God…," she whispers. "He sings in such a soft and low voice, how can he do that?"

"That bastard is full of surprises," Rihito laughs heartily. "We were amazed the first time we heard him singing. He could become a rockstar and go out banging every chick he wanted, if he didn't already have his girl, hehehe."

"And if he cared enough about that sort of thing," Himuro smiles while record the performance.

"Wow… handsome and good at singing… Kanami won the lottery," Mariko sighs.

"I told you guys, that bitch got it good, hahaha," Akane shrugs, and then she looks at Rihito, with a drink in his hand. Ohma and Kanami were starting to raise their voices; they looked firmly at each other, in tune. "Shit, they really are cute... now I feel like challenging these two. It's already started well, so let's dethrone them on Just Dance. What do you say?"

"A dance number of our own, huh? Count me in!," And there he goes, having another drink, as Himuro twists his mouth.

"Seriously, dude, slow your roll. This has Kotozakura in it…"

"Himuro, the greatest masterpieces in the world were created while their creators were stoned or as drunk as skunks! I need to be inspired if I want to reach that same level, dammit!," He scoffs, shaking his head again. "Are you going to get one too, Panther?"

"I already grabbed one, but if you don't want me puking on you while we're dancing, I need to take it easy," she smiles, showing her almost empty cup now. "Just one more and I'll be ready, Mr. Himuro, fill it up!," she points to the cup on her hand.

"Okay, Miss Agata... damn, that's what I'd call 'birds of a feather' "...," Himuro arches an eyebrow, filling her cup. Tomori laughs again, turning to Okubo and murmuring, "See why I was so sure that I would win our bet?"

"It's not over yet," Okubo says. "Don't count on it yet, my trip with you will still happen..."

Meanwhile Kanami and Ohma finished the song on a soft note, the last note coming out together,  and that earned them a pretty high score. She smiles and hugs him, all happy, and he laughs a little, hugging her back. Akane squeals in delight, clapping her hands.

"That's what I was talkin' about, my hot couple! I shipp it so much!," she exclaims, laughing out loud. "My God, I'm drooling, Rihito! I think I'm gonna cry, and the night hasn't even started yet...," She hides her face in his shoulder. "I'm glad my makeup is waterproof..."

Rihito laughs loudly, throwing his head back, choking a little as he brings her closer with an arm around her waist. "Calm your tits, Kane, or soon enough you'll be asking to be the bridesmaid or something, hahahaha!"

Himuro blinks. Kane? He exchanges a look with Okubo, arching an eyebrow, while Tomori was distracted taking another drink that Mariko offered her.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Okubo raises his eyebrows, pouting as he nods, drinking as well. 

“Told ya, man, that woman is the fucking Devil”

Ohma and Kanami sit down again, side by side, and Kanami says, mortified, "Okay, okay, we've already done the opening show, who's next?"

"Oh, can we go, Himuro?," Mariko asks, to which Himuro nods, still looking at his phone.

"Sure. I'll just send this video here... done," He puts his phone aside, and then gets up. "That way Kaneda doesn't get bored with the tv shows that his grandpa likes to watch, hahaha."

While they were choosing a song on the karaoke machine, Rihito whispers to Akane," Look, we're going to have a tough competition with Himuro. He's possessed by the spirits of a hundred GoGo Boys, he twerks like a bitch with no bones."

"Oh, but he'll have to deal with other two bitches who dance like thet have no bones," she winks at him, smiling devilishly. Jeez.

Apparently she couldn't handle much alcohol without food.

"Bitches versus bitches. It's the battle of the century," He laughs mischievously, and his voice is no longer so firm either. Tomori looks at them from the side as the music starts, calling, "Guys, slow down with the drinks, especially when it's not time for dinner yet."

"I've already stopped," Akane puts her cup aside, now holding on to Rihito's arm. "I do tons of dumb shit when I'm too drunk, I don't want to give Daddy Satan any reasons pull me under too soon."

"I'm not touching any alcohol, Ohma," Kanami says when he offers her a cup. "I promised I wouldn't do that anymore."

"No problem," he shrugs. "I'm hungry, so this strawberry is doing it's job."

"Rihito shrugs. "I, on the other hand, see booze as a source of inspiration. Damn, when will we have the chance to drink rich people's sake again while watching Himuro sing pop music...," He laughs loudly while watching the other couple's performance, with Mariko still a little shy, but smiling while Himuro encourages her, even taking her by the hand to make her dance slowly with him. Damn, they weren't even playing Just Dance yet and he was already showing off like the conceited bastard he was. As if he needed that to make his date more eager to sleep with him. "Look, Akane, that's what I was talking about! Come on, let’s analyze our opponent’s movements coldly…"

And Tomori just laughed seeing him with that predatory smile. Was it just her or was he taking this dance competition thing seriously?

"I've been watching them since I came in, my dear," she looks devilishly at him. "You're just not aware... "

"Really? Woman, you're a goddamn hawk," He smiles back. "But were you analyzing your opponent's tactics or just admiring that incredibly tanned skin? Don't make me jealous, c'mon," And he laughed again, now drinking more slowly, as if the drink were a rare delicacy that he didn't want to end so soon.

"I looked at everyone, but I don't eat more than what's on my plate. And my skin is more tanned than that anyway," she laughs softly, pinching his nose.

"How about we go next?," Okubo asks Tomori. "Then we can enjoy their show next..."

"I'm in! And I have a feeling that we're going to have to tell these two to control themselves soon," Tomori responds with a giggle. "They're not even trying to hide their flirting. This party is for adults, but not for the films produced for them, haha."

"Heh, I'm loving the view," He smiles a little stupidly. "It's strangely cute, and despite the adult content, they're actually quite well-behaved."

The song ends and the two laugh, and the other couples in the room gave them an ovation.

"Very good, Mariko!," Kanami congratulates. "You did good."

"Although I'm sure she was mostly looking at Himuro's ass than singing," Akane whispers to Rihito, pretending to look at him with interest. Even drunk, that woman was an actress, Rihito thought. 

"Aawn, thanks!," Mariko blushes, all happy, while Himuro smiles, holding her hand and saying, "See? I said you have a beautiful voice. Do you believe in me now?"

The girl is completely disconcerted, blushing, her eyes shining. Rihito shakes his head, commenting quietly to Akane, "And you think that wasn't exactly what he wanted? He's a worthless womanizer too, he's just the one who gets the best luck in the group, hahaha..."

"I see... but you don't need to be jealous," She looks at him and smiles more, whispering. "I'm the one who has a knack for these things here..."

"And don't I know that? You're on another level, Panther...," He whispers with a mischievous smile, discreetly sliding his hand down her thigh.

"Okay, our turn, Tomoh!," Okubo jumps up and extends his hand to her. "You can choose," and he offers her the remote.

"Okay! I imagined you'd want to go for enka, I was already preparing to be your accompaniment," She jokes with a laugh as she holds his hand and checks the list. And Rihito scares the entire room when lets out that high-pitched whistle again, exclaiming, "Come on, you cheesy fools, do the gayest performance you can and make us proud!"

"I want the cutest, most sugary thing you can menage!," Akane coos, smiling with false innocence.

Himuro wastes no time, siting down again with a still shy Mariko at his side and pulling out his phone again, smiling mischievously.

"Himuro won’t run away from me next time," Ohma whispers to Kanami.

"Oh, I know," she smiles mischievously too, while watching Okubo and Tomori.

Okubo seemed a little shy at first, grinding his teeth at Rihito's antics, but Tomori's hand in his seemed to calm him down, making him smile tenderly at her. They intertwine their fingers, looking at each other as they sing, as if trying to ignore the presence of the others. There came a time when the plan seemed to work. Rihito, his head already a little foggy from all the booze, watches them, smiling a little.

"Just look at that, guys, I can't handle this much sugar! I'm gonna be sick! Get a room, you two!," He shouts, but it only sounded partially mocking. Akane could see genuine affection in the way he watched his friends interact. He probably wouldn't show his satisfaction with the couple's happiness so openly if he weren't already a little drunk. 

"I'm simply melting away with all this cuteness," She follows along, but more measuredly, making hearts with her hands. "My favorite couple keep giving me reasons to live! I love you guys!"

"She’s drunk, right?," Ohma asks his girlfriend softly, who nods. He becomes quiet again.

Tomori blushes at the comments, but she doesn't stop singing, and it's Okubo's turn to hold her hand more firmly to encourage her. Rihito laughs sharply before taking another sip of his drink.

"If I have one certainty in life, Akane," He says quietly to her suddenly "It's that that bald fuck won't wait more than a year to propose to this girl. I know him too well, haha. "

"I don't doubt it. She got what she wanted too, so I doubt she'll say no," she says in a sly voice. "And you like them together, right? You look all happy for them..."

"They make me wanna barf, and I kinda need to go on my nights out alone now," He shrugs, but the smile on his face doesn't diminish. "But I also gained a friend. And he's happy. Look at that stupid face. I've never seen him acting like this with anyone before... you must feel the same seeing her like this."

"I agree, I'm all giddy seeing them being cute together, enough to make me jealous of what they have, so much so that I wanna more booze, but our hot tanned friend closed the bar...," she looks at him. "No, you don't count, you're good but I want it only after dinner, so save that fire of yours for now."

He laughs sharply again. "Okay. But I was going to offer you my cup. Here, there's still half of it," He gives his cup to her. "Here's to all this cute fag shit, and here's to their fucking wedding because then we'll have all the free booze we could want, hahaha!"

She laughs and takes it, drinking promptly. "Thanks, honey," and she kisses his cheek.

He blushes, blinking his green eyes rapidly as he touches the place where she kissed him. He looks at her with fascination for a second... and then he laughs and asks, "What the hell, woman, are you gay?! Such a fag, hahaha!," And he pulls her towards him for a hug.

"Yeah, I am 'cause I can, so shut the fuck up," She hugs him back, laughing like an idiot.

"Not for long, 'cause we'll soon be playing horror games. We'll be screaming like little bitches!," He laughs again, his arm around her waist. At that point, they were no longer paying attention to their favorite couple's performance, nor noticing how the others were looking at them. Mariko blinks, surprised, and comments quietly to Himuro, "I didn't realize they were a couple..."

"They aren't," He responds bluntly, but he still looks sideways at Ohma and Kanami. He wasn't so sure about Ohma, but he was sure Kanami had noticed too.

Ohma was quiet, and Kanami smiled, seeing that he was leaning against her, with a frown and arms crossed, but not moving away in the slightest. They seemed too distracted to pay attention to anything, but Kanami occasionally looked at everyone else.

The song - which was actually prettty long - ends, and there was more clapping.

"Yesssss, please invite me to the wedding," Akane laughs coquettishly. "I love you two, please be together forever!"

Tomori just laughed with all the claps and whistles, a little shy, while Okubo scratched the back of his head. They were still holding hands. Rihito takes the opportunity to taunt, "Go on, man, seize the moment and propose now, since your hand seems to be glued to hers or something!"

"Screw you," Okubo turned extremely red. "You're the last person who should say those things to me! Get a grip," He looks at Tomori. "Just to make it clear, I love you, okay? It's this dumbass that's too damn inconvenient."

Tomori turns even redder, laughing sharply and leaning her head on his arm "I know, Naoh, I love you too, hahaha! Leave him be, I'm too happy to care," And she stays there, hugging him.

Rihito smiles even wider, giving Okubo a thumbs up. That idiot probably already owed him fifteen favors with regards to his girlfriend. These two would be lost without him...

Kanami laughs softly. "Speaking of convenience, it's your turn now. Or do you guys want something else?"

"Food," Ohma grunts, sulking.

"Soon, love, soon. You're even sulking, you poor thing," Kana laughs, and squeals when he pretends to bite her shoulder.

"And he says I'm a cannibal!," Akane points out, laughing loudly.

"I never said I wasn't," he laughs maliciously; the baker was mortified, her hands on her face.

Rihito chokes on the rest of his drink, laughing like a hyena, while Himuro just shakes his head.

"Told you. He's really been scaring me lately."

"If you can't stand me, go play some horror games," Ohma laughs more, still softly. He was clearly a little intoxicated, judging by the red cheeks.

"This is what I have to put up with every day," Kanami sighs, hugging him anyway. "What do I do with you?"

"I don't know, how about shutting me up with some food?," He smiles at her and she pouts.

"That way I’ll end up giving in, you naughty cat."

"That's the idea."

The two end up laughing, while she pushes him and he flinches, swaying as he lets out an idiotic but cute laugh. The idiots had never seen this side of him before. Normally he was always eating while also drinking, and he ate a lot, so it was difficult for him to get into that state.

"Are you seriously getting drunk already? I didn't even see you drink much... although you have an empty stomach too," Himuro comments, to which Rihito, still laughing his ass off, says, "It's the usual lack of habit, just like the Seaweed Head! C'mon, Kane, let's sing already so we can go eat and that creature can fill his stomach up before he gets hungry enough to eat everyone, hahaha!"

"How tempting," she laughs loudly. "But still scary, 'cause Butch would get mad. Let's go," She gets up and almost falls on her butt. "Oh my God!," she cries out before Rihito holds her. "Boy, I almost kissed the floor instead of you, so thanks a lot!"

"Damn, woman, you’re not in the middle of a fight to be kissing floors like that!," He shouts, worried, but still laughing out loud. "Here, lemme help, hahaha! Did you get hurt? Good thing you're so light...," And he helps her to compose herself; he himself felt a little dizzy. 

Tomori sighs with an exasperated smile, "That's what happens when you drink strong booze like it's water..."

"Will they be okay?," Mariko asks, worried, to which Himuro says, "Yeah, don’t worry. They'll just wake up with a hell of a hangover tomorrow. I said this thing could knock out a bull..."

"I'm not on the ground yet!," Akane leans on Lihito. "Wow, I knew you were big, but not wall-sized! I like it...," she smiles stupidly "Put on some... what will we sing, Rihito? I'm going to sing bad anyway, so it must be something equally bad. I'm down even for 'Barbie Girl' at this point."

"Alright, lemme see... holy shit, this one!," He exclaims happily while pointing to a specific song. "Since everyone decided to be sissies today, let's get with the program! If you wanna be my lover...," He hums in a falsetto, and Mariko gets a little startled when Himuro has a coughing fit, caused by laughter.

"Oh, fuck...! Sorry, Mariko, but I have to record this!," And he immediately pulls out his phone. "Kaneda would never forgive me if I didn’t…"

Tomori lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Spicy Girls? Really? Damn, he's drunker than I thought!"

Ohma looks interested at the scene, laughing a little. Kanami raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms, just waiting for shit to catch fire.

"Oh I love this one!," Akane laughs. "Man, this is going to be great!," She takes the mic.

The result was the most out of tune couple at the party, but also the funniest. 

The scene was so surreal that even Okubo pulled out his phone to record it, Himuro and he bursting out laughing as they watched Rihito, who loved to declare himself the bastion of manhood and virility, swaying his hips and even snapping his fingers while holding the mic in the other hand, singing as loud as he could, going out of tune in the high notes, and at one point even throwing his head back with one hand in his hair, his eyes closed tightly. And he couldn't seem to care less about the show he was putting on; his attention was all on Akane, both pointing at each other while singing, laughing loudly when one of them was out of tune, and swaying together even though it wasn't a dance song.

"C'mon, woman, move those hips, now it's the best part! Wooooh!," He throws his arms in the air when Akane rests her hands on her knees and raises her hips, his eyes wide as if that were the best view he could have. The rest of the party members were too busy trying not to piss themselves laughing.

The song ended and they were still dancing. Akane ended up falling on top of him, both of them laughing a lot. Then their laughter stoped and they looked at each other. Himuro even zoomed in on the recording, wanting to capture the moment in detail. Ohma widens his eyes and looks at the others, pointing. Okubo nodded a lot, and Kanami just laughed quietly at her half-drunk boyfriend's reaction. Tomori even grabs Okubo's arm, hiccuping after the fit of laughter, but her eyes are shining with how the two drunks were looking at each other. And Mariko could only think that this was probably the strangest Christmas party she had ever attended. But it wasn't like she wasn't having fun too.

"Hey...," Rihito says in a low voice, looking at the woman on top of him, his eyelids even drooping a little... and then he laughs loudly, exclaiming, "What kind of dance move was that, cockatoo? Attack of the Fat Ass? It's become my favorite move now!"

Akane laughs too. "Did you like it? I'm developing it further to take you down, you big dog," And she pushes him lightly, a little shyly. "Okay, quit the sissy shit, what time is it again?"

Kanami looks at her phone and then smiles. She shows it to Ohma, who blinks a little with the brightness of the screen. He then opens his eyes wide, smiling a lot, standing up suddenly in a burst of joy. "FUCKING FINALLY!!," He shouts, scaring everyone, immediately running to the kitchen. Kanami laughs loudly.

"Someone hold him, quickly! Or there will be nothing left for us!"

And everyone laughs together, running to the kitchen. Ohma gave a surprised yelp when all the men held him at once, so  Kanami could at least go ahead with the girls and set the table for everyone. Their fighting instincts suddenly took over, and the thing became an all out brawl. Those four huge men shouting and fighting each other in the hall was the icing on the cake of that pre-dinner party.

But the most impressive thing was Ohma taking them down one by one with absurd ease, even as a joke, with only food as motivation. Damn, and he wasn't even the biggest of them all! Akane looked at Kanami with an air of astonishment.

"What?," Kana shrugged, blushing.

"Girl, you knocked that man down with a leg lock! Damn, well done. You're a fucking badass."

Kanami was mortified when the others laughed, but everyone was scared when one of the mastodons crashed into the drywall and almost put a hole in it. 

Kanami widens her eyes in fury. The girls cower in both confusion and fear as the baker charges into the hall like a bull.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, ALL OF YOU," she gets in the middle of the four men. "COME ON, QUIT IT, YOU FUCKS! I SAID QUIT IT!," She holds Ohma and Rihito by their ears, and they flinch at the sudden pain.

"Ooouch!," they both complain, and when she lets go, they look at her with their tails between their legs.

"They started it!," Ohma defends himself, pointing to the others.

"Ow, Auntie, that hurts! Damn it, you seaweed head! You only managed to knock me down like that because I'm drunk!," Rihito points to Ohma, his face red red, massaging his sore ear. Himuro, panting, snorts, also red in the face, "He's drunk too, Rihito, did you forget? Shit, I need to train more…"

"Damn...! Tomori!," Okubo shrieks, mortified, looking up at his girlfriend. "I- I didn't look like a loser to you after taking a beating from Ohma, did I? He- He caught me by surprise, I wasn't even fighting seriously and-"

"Calm down, Naoh!," Tomori interrupts him, unable to contain herself and laughing, despite also being a little exasperated. "You're still the greatest to me, you know that."

"Really?!," His eyes shine. Then he also whimpers loudly when she approaches him and holds his earlobe, and with the size difference between them, he practically has to bend over. "Ouch!"

"But no more of these stupid shenanigans! If you want to play fight, go outside, okay?"

"... Okay, babe," Okubo pouts, and he looks furiously at Rihito and Himuro when they giggle. 

"Hunf. You still need a lot to take me down, you weaklings," Ohma shakes his head, his smile malicious, even while feeling pain on his ear. "You might give me some trouble when fighting three on one, but one only has brute strength and little technique," he points at Rihito, "a lot of technique and little strength," at Himuro, "and Okubo has both but not as much as me, so take that."

"That's enough, Ohma," Kanami raises her voice, and he stops immediately. "You four will fix what you broke, you hear me? I don't even want to see the damage to this hall before eating, otherwise I'll lose my appetite, and if this shit happens again, you go without eating. All of you will go without eating!," She points at the three idiots when they start to laugh. "This isn't a fucking madhouse, damn it! Next time go fight outside, do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," The three said at the same time, cowering, while Ohma still complained, "I wasn't even the one who started it..."

Kanami looks at him with acid eyes and he takes a step back, his eyes wide. Mariko just shakes her head, astonished.

"That was funny, cute and scary at the same time…"

"Even more so because the one who stopped the whole thing was Kanami, not the men," Akane adds, whispering, her cheeks flushing. "Damn, Butch, you almost made me wet my panties... in a good way."

Next chapter here

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

What was Marguerite Ricord like as a person and what did she look like?

Her personality

According to Charlotte Robespierre:

The most frivolous and inconsiderate person in the world

Malicious

A passionate lover of pleasure, and often of pleasures not permitted to respectable women

Laughing and frolicking humor

A woman who knows so little of the rules of propriety and her duties as a wife to commit the gravest offenses against them.

[Someone who] wanted to shine and be adored at any price, and would do anything to get attention.

According to René-Nicolas Dufriche

Apparently very shy, probably because she had no use of the world

Dufriche also shares the following anecdote from the Ricords’ first stay in Nice alongside Charlotte and Augustin:

Walking one evening on the beautiful terrace which borders the sea, I came face to face with the representatives Barras and Fréron, who both flanked Madame Ricord, the wife of their colleague, who followed them a few steps away, chatting to Robespierre the younger. A swarm of young staff officers surrounded the national representation at a respectful distance. I was forced to greet the first group and approach madame Ricord, to ask her for news of her family, who had received me so cordially in Grasse.  “Monsieur,” citoyenne Ricord said to me, “aren’t you a bit of a Girondin?”  “No, madame, I’m simply a doctor.” Then, slowly retreating, I went to see the husband, who affectionately held out his hand to me and took a few steps away from Robespierre so that we could talk more at ease.  “Citoyen representant,” I said to him, “your wife just asked me a very inappropriate question.” And I repeated what she had said. “Certainly, very inappropriate, and it does not surprise me, because my wife compromises me every day… Forget what she told you… I am counting on your silence.”  "Admit, however, citoyen representant, that if Madame Ricord's question could cause me some grief, I could not help saying that your wife's suspicions infallibly relate to what she saw me do in Paris at my uncle V... She was waiting for you there, as you well know, chatting with my aunt and my cousin, while you deliberated in the neighboring salon... Isn’t that how it is?”  "Certainly; I repeat to you that my wife does not have any common sense. Be calm, and whatever may happen, you will find in me a warm friend who will make use of your services.”  While complying with the somewhat interested words of M. Ricord, a loyal man, I was not completely reassured. I had humiliated self-esteem and swallowed too much the ridiculous pretensions of a few Figaros, exclusive patriots and aesculapian servants of the proconsuls, so as not to apprehend the denigrations. Confining myself therefore into a clientele which increased every day, I avoided with extreme care the national representation and all its entourage.

Also, no offence Charlotte, but I can’t help but notice the way Ricord talks about his wife in this anecdote is actually quite similar to the way your brother talks about you in this this letter here below:

My sister does not have a single drop of blood that resembles ours. I have seen and learned so much about her that I regard her as our greatest enemy. She abuses our spotless reputation to lay down the law on us and threatens to take a scandalous step in order to compromise us. We must take a decisive stand against her. We must make her leave for Arras, and thus take her away from us, a woman who causes our common despair. She would like to give us the reputation of bad brothers, her calumnies spread against us aim at this goal. I would like you to see the citoyenne La Saudraie, she would give you certain information on all the masks that it is interesting to know in these circumstances. A certain Saint-Félix seems to be from the clique.

Her looks

According to the memoirs of René-Nicolas Dufriche, Marguerite and her sister ressembled their mother… who he unfortunately doesn’t give any description of…

That, along with what I’ve written in this post, is all information I’ve got on Marguerite Ricord for the moment.

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 3 - Acquainted

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing, bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN, no description of the reader.

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: thanks so much for all your love! Sorry to keep you waiting, hope you like it!

*

Narrator's POV:

Coming out of the shower, Javier, once more, fought against his crave to remember:

Y/N dancing, he could see himself holding that body close...

Stop it, Javier! - he thought

Y/N wearing her red lipstick and a black dress, he could almost feel her lips on his...

No, stop it! - he continued.

Y/N almost purring when she called that stupid barman by "mi amor", oh, he could do so much: He could punish her, he could imagine her moaning...

No, fuck, no! - his voice in his mind almost screamed. - Stop, Javier. He doesn't want you, why would she anyway?

Y/N didn't even like Peña, so he believed...

Of course Y/N's supposed rejection towards Javier could be explained by a bunch of reasons: he was arrogant, was a complicated subordinate, a living RH nightmare, hated to follow the rules and orders, and risks? Oh, the stupid risks...

Truth be told, Javier Peña was fucked up in a lot of ways.

His boss had hella of work to do, a reputation to manage and maintain. If she's half as smart as he thought, she would have studied her team, to say the least.

Javier Peña had a problem, although. He wasn't expecting or counting that she would be so fucking perfect: loved whiskey and cigars, smart and hot as hell, such an angel that a devil like him definitely did NOT deserve.

And, of course, didn't want anything to do with him.

And now, she was just a few steps away, right next door.

Javier took a deep breath, trying to pick up an outfit, be damned the day he said "Yes" to Connie and Steve to join them at the USA's club in Bogota.

*

Y/N's POV - 1st Person

I should've known better... I should've said something before... I knew I wasn't gonna run away forever. - I thought. - Oh fuck, and he just entered home, like, in the morning. Where have you been, Peña? Stop it! Leave it!

I shook my head, trying to keep him out.

I had so much to do, groceries, Mail, beauty salon, bank, Yoga... Then, I'd go check the USA's club here.

But he had to show up like that? When I'm trying to dodge him?

Around 1 pm, I went to the damn club, they checked my ID and let me in.

It seemed really nice, with lots of activities, different sports, a bar, restaurant, SPA... It almost felt like an advantage to fight the drug war.

After I changed and put my bag into the locker they lent to me, I walked around for a while, until I decided to lay by the pool, wearing nothing but my red bikini, enjoying the heat and the breeze.

All was missing: a good drink and a bittersweet cigar.

*

Steve, Connie and Javi arrived about 2 o'clock, and the club looked a little bit empty than it would be on such a beautiful day. All of them were still trying to recover from the insane amount of tequila they drank.

All 3 agreed to go to the pool, since it was such a beautiful day and the bar provided all they needed.

Connie started to babble about Y/N, when they sat down, how she was a strong, smart woman. She wasn't a pushover... If so, Y/N was hard working and demanding of all of the DEA.

Javier made a face, while Y/N was the subject. He just wanted a little bit of peace, just to forget about you, until Monday. Murphy knew his partner like a few, and loved to mess with him even more.

Steve pretended that he didn't understand what bothered Javier so badly and endorsed Connie.

Steve ordered the beers, trying to enjoy a little break from all.

Javier's mind went to a place he avoided, just like the night before: his life in the US.

Truth be told, he could've brought Lorraine, she could try to make a home, he could see his son grow a little closer... But when they offered a chance to escape his wife, he left without looking back.

Colombia, despite all the problems, meant freedom to be, peace to live. He left the US, but brought an old self, another version, honoring his so called fame as "Laredo's leg spreader".

Not even his marriage kept Javier safe from that fame.

Of course, Lorraine and her family ignored all the comments and rumors about it, and when they've got a shot, loved to put Lorraine as a savior, his savior from a life of sins and depraved behavior.

Of course, Javier avoided doing anything at Laredo or its proximity.

But, again, Colombia was a new world, even with an anchor.

Once a week, he called his son, his little boy who was 3 years old, sent letters very often, sent money, different toys and... Was obligated to actually speak to Lorraine.

How could Javier deny his baby boy a family, just like he had?

Well, not exactly like that. Chucho and su mama loved each other a lot, not the same case as he had in his so-called relationship.

Avoiding another self-pity session, Javier made an effort to hunt his next company to bring home... At the same time, he spotted a hella of a piece of ass, wearing a ridiculously small red bikini.

Although Javier couldn't see a face yet, he was quite amused by the view and continued to appreciate it.

A few minutes later, a waiter came to serve her... With a scotch.

Neat scotch.

That's odd. - he thought. - what a coincidence.

She sat down, still not facing him. Her hair was smooth, with the wind playing with it.

"Showtime!" - he whispered to himself, leaving Connie and Steve.

Walking, as if he was the king of the world, towards the red bikini lady, he could see a little more... Her smooth skin, her curves, her nice ass, that was even hotter seeing it closely... Even noticed something on her ribs, maybe a tattoo?

Javier, the king of the world, was wearing a white speedo and open button down linen shirt, his aviator sunglasses, flip flops and his cocky smile...

A smile that started to fade, as her beautiful body became more familiar, her fresh perfume invaded his nostrils... And Y/N finally looked at him.

"There's no fucking way..." - he thought.

Steve and Connie felt like they're watching a stupid romcom, holding themselves, trying not to laugh in a way they'd notice.

"Agent Peña?" - she called him, pretending to be confused, yet, with her mouth watering so badly when notices his cock throbbing through his speedo.

A ridiculous tight speedo, that left little to no imagination.

You ignored the arousal between your legs.

As you spoke his name, with that mocking tone, that accent, that voice he hated to love, Javier became borderline painful. It felt like all of his blood went straight to his cock.

And there was him, dick hard as a rock, wearing small white swimming trunks, face to face with Y/N, the woman who he was positively sure hated his guts.

His jefe.

In parallel, little did Javier Jesus Peña know how you were drooling over his figure.

Of course you're having the time of your life, seeing the embarrassment all over his face, as he did not expect any of that...

However, not only your mouth, but also your very much wet cunt, clenching over nothing.

You got up, walked slowly on purpose, saving that unholy view, to greet that devil.

You meet halfway, but close to the pool.

"Javier Jesus Peña..." - she said, his name dancing on her lips. To him, it felt like something bittersweet. Felt like a motherfucking sin, a curse. - "What brought, better, who dragged you here? Let me guess, Connie and Steve?"

"Si, jefe." - he responded, still in disbelief. - "Care to join us?" - he showed the table. - "I know how you like'em."

Fighting Escobar seemed like eating candy, compared to the effort he was doing to look calm.

"Sure, will be nice. I did not expect company, since we all drank tequila as if it was water... Not even from you, given that you arrived in the morning." - and she laughed.

Javier offered to pick up her stuff, as she made her way to the seat. You let him, trying to keep it together.

In fact, you kept together, just not enough to walk straight, since you fell into the poll.

Per instinct, Javier took off his sunglasses and jumped, to save her.

"Gracias, Javi..." - he noticed that was the first time she called him by nickname.

You had military training, was an unbelievably fast and handy fighter, could take down a man twice your size, knew how to survive in the jungle, to shoot, to swim, to kill... You're Head Chief of the DEA.

Not to Javier, at the moment.

You're just a lady in danger to him.

Yes, Javier Peña was a manwhore, that was no secret, he fucked half of Bogota, was no stranger to brothels... But, on the other hand, he could be a gentleman. He grew up in Texas, it was his southern way.

Javier picked you up in his big and strong arms and took you to the edge of the pool. For a few, he could feel your soft skin, now wet, shivering... Saw your nipples get hard and appear though the bikini…

You really meant to thank him.

Javier just nodded, still taking in all those feelings and sensations, especially the one of having you so close, you fit so well against him...

*

Next

[titleleaf]

"The critics seemed to agree that Fuseli had personified an idea. The question was, what exactly was the idea?

Where paintings of visions were concerned, the critics seemed much more comfortable describing the visual conventions than they were at explaining what all this might mean. It took a Church of England vicar, Rev. Robert Anthony Bromley, Rector of St Mildred's in the Poultry, to be the first to suggest that The Nightmare might after all be about sex. In the first volume of his Philosophical and Critical History of the Fine Arts — Painting, Sculpture and Architecture (1793), Bromley included in his chapter on 'the qualifications essential in the constitution of moral painting' a longwinded sideswipe at Fuseli's picture. He did not mention the artist by name but he did not need to:

the dignity of moral instruction is degraded, whenever the pencil is employed on frivolous, whimsical, and unmeaning subjects The Night-mare, Little Red Riding Hood [exhibited by Maria Cosway at the Royal Academy in 1783], The Shepherds Dream, or any dream that is not marked in authentic history as combined with the inspiring dispensations of Providence, and many other pieces of a visionary and fanciful nature, are speculations if it be right to follow Nature, there is nothing of her here, all that is presented to us is a reverie of the brain mere waking dreams, as wild as the conceits of a madman. [A recent commentator] very properly calls these persons 'libertines of painting': as there are libertines of religion, who have no other law but the vehemence of their own inclinations

In strongly implying that Fuseli was among the 'libertines of painting', Bromley was breaking new ground. Maybe The Nightmare was an example of the kind of libertine art which had been exhibited in recent Paris salons, or was known to be collected for private consumption by well-heeled connoisseurs. The Philosophical and Critical History continued - at great and pondero's length - to enunciate the principles that 'whatever is outré and extravagant can never be beautiful' and 'whatever is empty or poor of sentiment cannot instruct any persons'. Fuseli was furious. He took bitter offence at Bromley's attack on The Nightmare' it was one thing to encourage a public reputation for eccentricity and even for being 'Painter in ordinary to the Devil' - Fuseli did that whenever the opportunity arose, and on one occasion said of his diabolic reputation 'Aye, he has sat for me many times' - it was quite another to be publicly accused of being a libertine, especially to someone who was desperate to be accepted by the artistic establishment. So Fuseli wrote an ill-tempered notice of Bramley's book in the Analytical Review (July 1793]:

the whole [of Bromley's book] is delivered in the style and with the somnific loquacity of a drowsy homily ... the reader will forgive us if we refuse to enter into a more circumstantial analysis of a work which to us appears to have hardly any other title to grave consideration than its size …

Not content with this (the 'size' reference may have been an echo of criticisms made of himself), Fuseli then took part in a debate at Somerset House which resulted in the Royal Academy cancelling its subscription to the second volume of Bramley's History. This debate took place on 20 February 1794, and during the course of a heated discussion (which resulted in a vote seventeen to four in favour of cancellation), Fuseli's friend the painter Joseph Farington (1747-1821) helped to swing it by stating that 'a man who had written with so little delicacy on the works of living artists already might well traduce 'in his future volumes the professional characters of the very persons then assembled'. The vicar responded to these 'few men, acting in an Academic capacity' - and to Fuseli's 'shallow and contemptible objections' - in a series of seven letters published in the Morning Herald."

"Fuseli's The Nightmare: Somewhere Between The Sublime And The Ridiculous", Christopher Frayling (from Gothic Nightmares: Fuseli, Blake, and the Romantic Imagination)