#but now he bats pens out of her hand to play with them

[gemstarstarlight]

I sent this to my roommate who is Decidedly Not On Tumblr, but maybe you all will enjoy this better than she will.

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Manx Norton: going over the limit

Contents: 18+ mdni, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, blowjob, deepthroating, throat fucking, swallowing, marks the end of their pre-relationship story

“We need to talk,” you say. 

Geto looks up from his journal, slow and steady like he knew you would come here and at this time. He sets his pen down. His hair is tied up completely today and there are dark bags under his eyes that you can’t bear to look at, so you don’t. Instead, you settle into the seat, without being asked, and you cross your legs and your arms. 

You mean business. 

“Good afternoon, pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

Sighing, you ignore that fluttering in your stomach. There’s no point in getting carried away by his charm; it’s his instinct to be sweet, otherwise he wouldn’t have as many clients as he does. But you’re aware, faintly and right at the very back of your mind, that his words have a bite to them — they’re complimentary whilst also accusatory. 

“I need an explanation, Geto,” you state firmly. 

His left eye twitches. It’s not a flicker or a nervous tick, it’s a flinch. You have the power, just like your sister said, when you were throwing her shoes out of the window, and she was offering advice as a means to fight your murderous intent off. It didn’t work.

There’s always something shifting between you, something unstable, and it’s been difficult to manage — you’re new to relationships, so new to venturing outside your comfort zone that you’ve relied so much on him to guide you. But you’ve also had to step up and make decisions for yourself. 

Your friends weren’t very helpful; they insisted you quit or bring a new man to the studio to make him jealous, and as tempting as it is to be petty, you know they wouldn’t solve anything. It’ll just make you feel bad and icky. 

So, you’ve chosen the high road, providing him the opportunity to share his side, to explain why he let you down once again and why everything between you had been built on a lie.

Nodding, he opens a drawer and takes out a familiar sheet of paper. Then, in a conversational tone, he asks, “What do you see?”

“It’s my CV,” you answer. Truthfully, you have no clue what game he’s playing; there’s something in particular he’s looking for but all you see is the whites of the paper and the lines of ink. 

“Look at it from the perspective of an employer looking to fill a hole in their establishment,” is his reply. 

You’ve heard that tone often, every day, in fact. It’s the tone he uses on clients when he needs to go over payment plans, or on suppliers when he needs to negotiate a new contract. But he’s never used it on you. Distant and devoid of attachment, it makes you feel uneasy. 

Fiddling with a loose thread on your sweater, you furrow your brows as you read over the paper. Geto is leaning back on the chair, hands folded on his lap, the pinnacle of confidence. That used to be so attractive. Now, you’re just a little peeved off. You were supposed to be the confident one; you came here on your own volition, even prepared a speech you practised with your sister.

You should have known he’d sweep the rug from under you. 

Frustrated, you groan and smack the sheet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see! I have no time for this.”

Smiling reassuringly, Geto doesn’t bat an eye at your outburst and instead, begins a lecture, “What I saw was a CV lacking in relevant work experience. In fact, you had very little experience. Your most recent job was in high school, when you worked as a librarian’s assistant for a day. The other things on there were debate club and a certificate for being a neighbourhood ‘sweetheart’, and I’m not even sure what that means.”

“Oh.”

To your embarrassment, he laughs. A blush is growing on your face and suddenly you’re very aware of how some strands of hair are sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, how the sweater you’re wearing is a little scratchy and that maybe, just maybe, you’ve overreacted terribly.

Maybe you should have confronted him sooner. Perhaps just as soon as you overheard him tell Miguel that your sister owes him a favour for hiring you. However, in your defence, you were feeling a little hurt from having been left at the restaurant — you waited for an hour, watching people pass by and give you sympathetic looks as you sent text after text to a man too busy with a client to realise time passed by. 

A week has gone by since then, and you haven’t come to work at all, you dodged every text and call from Geto and ignored him when he showed up on campus and had the nerve to get upset that you’re hanging out with a classmate. Your sister tried to defend him, and herself, but you weren’t willing to hear her out. On many occasions, you’ve told her to butt out, to leave you to make mistakes and get hurt, because it’s your prerogative. 

She can’t protect you from everything and the more she tries, the harder you all learn that lesson. 

“Okay, fine. So, my CV sucks a little,” you huff, “but you should have never hired me under the pretence that I was good enough when the real reason was because my sister asked you. It’s unfair on me. I wanted to earn this job on my own and you two went behind my back to manipulate this whole situation!”

The man sighs and leans forward. You smell his cologne and it’s muddling your mind a little, so you lean back, away from him. He notices. “I understand you’re upset. And I’m sorry to have colluded with your meddling sister. But it really isn’t what you think, pretty girl.”

You hate how patient he sounds, like you’re the crazy one. And maybe you are. You don’t know anymore. In fact, you’re starting to think you know nothing at all. 

“Yes, it’s true she asked me to give you a job. But all I promised her was that I’ll give you a chance, like everyone else. And when you came for the interview, I thought a lot of things. One was that you are so different from your sister. Different from the people that tend to come through the door, from me. You’re much brighter, much warmer and lighter than everyone I’ve ever seen.”

There’s something in his eyes, a sincerity that makes you breathless. All the air has left the room and you’re leaning in without even realising it. Everything that he says is entrancing, he’s a pied piper playing a tune that fills your soul with a fire you can’t put out, and he’s leading you closer to him, away from everything you’ve ever known, away from safety and reason. 

You’re not afraid. 

“I had a look at your CV and thought, there’s no way I would hire you, not even if she begged or blackmailed me — I take great pride in my studio, I turned it from a little backroom space with flickering lights to what it is now. My clients trust me to provide quality service from beginning to end, and I will not let a woman, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of that.”

Geto reaches for your cheek, like he can’t help himself, and you let him. His hands are slightly calloused but otherwise smooth and soft. And that smile, the polite one he always wears, is gone. In its place is something that reflects how you feel, how you’ve both been feeling for a long time now. A frustration against the distance between you, the boundary that’s erected itself between employer and employee, boss and receptionist, and a man who’s seen it all versus a girl who knows so little. 

You aren’t meant to be. Everything about this relationship is wrong, it’s inadvisable, foolish, like Hades and Persephone, or Eros and Psyche. It’s a tragic love story doomed from the very beginning, the kind people talk about centuries later with a mix sense of awe and pity. You know all about it, have read so many variations of the same story with the same individuals who think they know everything, who believe they’re different, special and that the Fates will smile fondly on them. 

Except neither you nor Suguru are under the impression that you’re different, that this will turn out differently and that the cards you’ve been dealt are from a separate, fresh deck. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game. 

Neither of you care. 

“But then I talked to you. And you were so witty, so undeterred by my unrelenting questions, and so willing to learn as you go. You had the confidence of someone who’s worked a thousand jobs, who’s met a thousand people that, despite knowing better, I wanted to hire you on the spot.”

Carefully, with your eyes fluttering shut at the tentative touch of your skin, you breathe out, “Suguru, we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

When your eyes open, you see his gorgeous, tortured eyes fall to your lips and you know what you want. 

Your lips meet his.

This kiss is so similar to the one you shared that night, but oh so new. It seems so long ago now, and when you feel his plush lips devour yours it feels like this is new to both of you and it urges you to push in further. His tongue touches yours and you don’t hesitate to intertwine it, to explore all that he’s laying out for you. 

Gasping for breath, you pull away with little success before he’s grasping the back of your neck and urging you over the desk, kneeing the papers there and hearing the pens and stapler fall to the floor with a dull clatter, you sit onto the desk and you hear his chair slam against the wall when he stands to press himself closer to you. He kisses you again. 

“Things work differently with me,” he says in between pecks to your lips. 

Whilst his mouth moves to your jaw, sucking at the skin by your ear, you giggle. “I know. My sister says you like control. Something about Christian Grey.”

Chuckling in your ear before nipping you there, he admits, “I’m not as insane as him. In truth, I don’t really know what I am, but I know it’s more intense than what most men ask for.”

“That’s okay, Suguru. We can work it out together, step by step.”

He kisses your pulse point. You moan. Goosebumps are rising along your arms; your back is arching to press as much of you closer to him. You’re barely capable of creating a single train of thought, you feel so lightheaded you don’t register how your legs are wrapping around his hips. 

“My smart girl,” Suguru muses against your skin. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hip, pulling him close until you can feel the bulge there push against your core. With a roll of your hips, the zipper of his jeans nudges your bundle of nerves. You gasp. And you seek out that pleasure again with slow, gradual grinds. 

Breathlessly, you say, “Suguru…”

He’s scraping his teeth against your pulse point, one hand kneading your thigh and the other holding himself up. Filling your senses, all you can think about is him and how there’s a growing pressure within that’s dying to be released. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Take what you need.” Tightening your legs around his hips, you grind harder, frustrated that there are layers between you. Your arch your back, chest rubbing against his. Like he knows what you want, his hand finds your breast, squeezing and groping. “No bra? Are you sure you came here to talk, angel?”

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, you cry out, body tightening as that coil inside snaps. You spasm, grinding hastily to draw out your pleasure. It’s much better than you any could have given yourself and you’re addicted. Hand flying to his hair, you thread it through, brushing out his hair tie until his silky hair cascades down.

He groans. 

In a blink of an eye, you’re being pulled and pushed down onto your knees. You grip his thighs, blinking fast as you desperately try to regain your bearings. 

“You’re asking for trouble, sweet thing. Can you handle it?” Suguru asks, a challenge glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. 

You bite your lip, thighs squeezing to subdue the regrowing aching there. With a sudden bravery, your hands make their way up, revelling in the marble like strength in his muscles before they find his zip. 

Hesitating, you feel something holding you back, an instinct within awakening. Awkwardly, you question, “May I?”

His smile widens, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then he’s threading his hands through your hair. It’s a rewarding pat, one full of warmth, and it’s empowering. 

“Such a good girl. You’re a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” He coos. “Of course you may, my pretty girl. Go on, go at your own pace.”

Nodding, you unzip his jeans, tugging it down with his boxers. And what springs out leaves your mouth watering. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s bad enough that he’s well-endowed, but nothing about him is typical. He’s different to the average man in every way. 

Starting with the metal piercing the underside of his dick, emerging through the head. 

Seeing the horrified look on your face, he chuckles, the hair soothing your head delving down to pinch your chin. Unperturbed by your reaction, likely expecting it, he explains, “I got it done a year ago, mostly as a dare. It took around nine weeks to heal and yes, it did hurt.”

“B-but I-I can’t,” you stammer and shake your head, adding, “there’s just n-no way.”

Suguru sighs, thumb grazing your cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand this is too much too soon, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re more than capable.”

You don’t want to disappoint him. And you want to prove you can do whatever you set your mind to. Recalling one of your sister’s drunken admissions, you know the trick is to pinch your thumb, so you don’t gag, to breathe through your nose and take a little at a time. 

“Okay, okay. I can do it.”

He gathers your hair and keeps them out of the way. Slowly, you wrap your hand around the base, gasping at the way your fingers barely touch. With no particular method in mind, you explore his length, thumb following a vein from bottom to top. He’s hot in your hand, almost burning, and the tip is shining with what you know to be pre-cum. 

It’s pearly white and you can’t wait to know what it tastes like; you lean in and scoop up the drop with your tongue. You both groan. 

Salty, you mull the taste over. It isn’t bad. And suddenly, you no longer feel scared. Your tongue fiddles with the bent metal barbell, surprisingly not minding the cold sensation against your hot tongue. 

“That’s it,” he groans, grip on your hair tightening. 

You widen your jaw, suckling the head, tongue pressing against the slit before it circles around, grinding the barbell back and forth. He groans louder, deep breaths vibrating through the room. 

When you push in further, you make the mistake of doing it too fast. You gag, eyes tearing up. 

“Slowly, pretty. Slowly. There’s no rush, okay?”

Coughing, you nod weakly, feeling embarrassed. Recovering your breath, you go back in, slower. Eventually, you work up a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him but never quite making it further than halfway. 

Both hands on your head, he soothes your tears away with his thumb before he advises, “Relax your throat, sweet thing. I’ll guide you, is that alright?”

You tap his thighs twice in a yes. 

And then he’s pushing in, more and more until he’s filling your throat, muscles stretching to take him in. Tearing up once more, you mentally swallow that panic rising, the claustrophobia within forcing your nails into his bare thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. So good -ngh- for me, hmm?”

Suguru pulls back, the piercing scraping your tongue. And then he pushes back in. Again and again, he builds up to a rhythm, allowing you to get used to it, before he gives you more of him. 

This is so overwhelming, the feeling of his piercing bumping at the back of your throat, the ache in your jaw at the stretch, and the salty taste filling your senses. All you can see and feel and hear and taste is Suguru. You can’t get enough of him. 

So, when he bottoms out, your lips tickling his skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head just as his do. 

“I’m going to cum, pretty. Do you want to pull out?” He asks, pleasure written all over his face, the veins in his arm bulging at his barely constrained urge to fuck your throat freely. Knowing that he’s so in control, so concerned over you, when he could use you how he pleased, could take what he wants makes you so wet. 

You blink rapidly. 

“No? Are you sure you -ha- can take it? I won’t let you spit it out,” he warns. 

Sucking your cheeks in, you suction him closer. His cock head is rubbing the back of your throat, piercing burning, and with a shallow thrust, he’s cumming down your throat. 

Hot liquid fills your mouth. 

Suguru pulls out and you swallow the thick cream he leaves in your mouth. Your head slumps against his thigh, gasping for breath, heaving like you’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. 

Hands tucking themselves under your arms, he lifts you onto his lap just as he sits back on his chair, boxers pulled up before you even realise what position you’re in now. 

He rubs your back, muttering encouraging words about how perfect you were, how amazing you did, and how he knew you’d do well for him. 

“Open,” he orders, bottom lip pulled down by his thumb. He inspects your mouth and smiles at what he sees. “Good girl.”

And then he’s kissing you, tasting both yours and his essence. 

“No wonder Miguel gave me a funny look when I asked how many piercings you have,” you whisper against his lips, a high pulsing through your veins. 

Suguru chuckles. “He’s a good guy, did all my piercings. Eased all my concerns every time and I knew I wanted him in my studio.”

You nod. 

Your eyes are heavy and you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and pondering the change between you. You’ve accepted that you’re entering an unconventional relationship, that he’s going to introduce you to a world none of your friends had seen a glimpse of, but you won’t be navigating it by yourself. 

He’ll lead you just as he had when you first started working here. 

Softly, gently and with so much patience, you’ll be free to stumble as often as you need until you know who you are, what you want, and what you need to be.

“Get some sleep, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Is the last thing you hear before you fall deeper into sleep in his arms.

[rueclfer]

shoujo touya save meeee pleaseee shoujo touya save me from the trenchessss

pull me through // touya todoroki

You awkwardly stood a few steps behind Touya as he felt around under the doormat for the spare key to his home. You two got along quite well for a couple of students who were on the opposite sides of the rankings, but never close enough to visit each other's home like this.

You were student council president, and Touya got suspended for setting the toilet on fire last year. That is how far you two were.

"Alright, come on in." He holds the door open for you to walk in before him.

At first glance, it seemed close to extravagant, but the closer you looked, it felt cozier by the second from the amount of framed photos, artwork, and trinkets displayed on every wall and counter.

In the living room, his younger siblings were all lined up like ducks as if they were awaiting for your arrival.

"Hi Fuyumi." You threw a wave at her.

"Hi Y/N!" She beams back.

You two worked on the student council together, so you were already close with her despite being a year older.

"Wait, this is Y/N?" The middle child with all white hair exclaims.

Fuyumi quickly swats her brother's arm, shushing him.

"Oooohh. Y/N, I know you!" The littlest one states, stepping up to you with an All Might figurine in hand.

"Oh do you?" You cock an eyebrow at Touya as he takes your jacket to put up by the door and your school bag off of your shoulder. You bent down to his level. "Your brother talks about me often?"

"No I don't." He quips before he could answer for himself, shooting a glare in their direction. "I don't know what either of them are talking about."

"Meet my ball and chains." He huffs with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Shouto, Natsuo, and you already know Fuyumi from your nerd thing."

"Can I play with them?" Shouto asks, moving over to Touya to tug on his pant leg.

"No you can't, turd. We have to work on a project so none of you bother us. Kay?" He motions you to follow him upstairs, slinging both of your bags over his shoulder.

You quickly follow behind him. "But maybe after!" You call out from midway up the stairs, giving them a final wave.

Upon entering his room, he sets your bag on his desk, letting you take the seat while he settles on his bed right next to you, whipping his laptop open.

Despite being somewhat of a delinquent, you knew that Touya was smart and had capabilities to be top of the class if he really cared to. You had no worries about this project, but the circumstance of being alone in his bedroom on the other hand, almost made you nervous,

"Your siblings seem to like me." You broke the tense silence as you two logged onto your presentation. "You definitely talk about me, huh?"

"It's probably Fuy. She's a big fan of yours." He glances over at you. "She talks about you way too much around here."

"You got a problem with that?"

"What, like I don't get enough of you at school?" He chuckles, biting on the end of his pen. "Don't I, Prez?"

"Lucky you, then. Not many people have that kind of access to me. I'm pretty high in demand, if you ask me." You tease back, meeting his eye for a moment before returning your attention back on your screen.

He pushes his laptop out and leans back in his bed, propping his upper half up on his elbow to face you with his pen still hanging out of his mouth.

"I wonder how those people feel about you spending all that time with such a loser like me? Not scared to tarnish that golden reputation of yours?"

"You give yourself too much credit." You laugh. "You've been such a good boy lately, I don't think anyone really bats an eye." You say sweetly, swiveling your chair to fully face him.

He chuckles to himself and diverts his eyes away from yours as a rush of blood floods to his cheek.

"Anyways..." He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears slightly flush into red. "Back to this bullshit."

You two talk back and forth about the project for a while, slipping into silence every now and then as you work on your respective slides.

In your peripheral, you noticed that every so often, he would glance up at you from his screen like clockwork. It makes you a bit too self aware of yourself, forcing you to keep your posture straight, not to bounce your leg too much, and to keep your fidgeting at bay.

"You're grinding your teeth." He mutters, breaking the silence. "I can hear it, like sandpaper."

"It's just a focus thing." You reply, biting the inside of your cheeks to combat the habit.

"I can't stop looking at them in class.." You hear from outside of the door, paired with the boys' giggling. "...They're all I can think about, I feel so stupid."

You and Touya both stop shoot each other a confused glance, not quite sure what Natsuo and Shouto were going on about in the hallway.

"What are they doing?" You lean in and whisper.

"I don't fucking know?" He shrugs. "Maybe reading one of Fuy's books?"

"How cute." You chuckle, returning your attention to the project.

"Prez would never want a guy like me. I want to do better, but I'm fucking hopeless." The boys start, their footsteps running up and down the hallway this time.

"Natsuo! That's a bad word, you can't say that!" Shouto cries.

Your eyes widened and glanced over at Touya, whose face had now drained of color, jaw slightly gaped open.

He slams his laptop shut and frantically feels around under his pillow and covers, as if he had misplaced something.

"What're you looking for?" You asked, watching him rummage through his school bag after going through his bed.

"I'm going to fucking kill them." He mutters, throwing his bag on the floor. "I'm actually going to kill them."

He walks over to swing his bedroom door open, revealing the two boys leaning against the wall with a book in hand, flipping through the pages.

"Where the fuck did you two get that!?"

The two younger boys scream and scurry down the hall with Touya right on their tail. You follow them out into the hallway, watching them run a muck around the house.

Natsuo and Shouto eventually circle their way back to Touya's room, shoving themselves right behind you a second before Touya is able to get to them.

"Guys?" You look down at Shouto clutching your leg and Natsuo breathing hard, peering over your shoulder. "What did you two do?" You put a hand down on the top of Shouto's head, tapping it to get his attention up at you.

"Natsuo did it!" He cries, burying his face into your side. "I didn't do anything." He muffled into your shirt.

"You're the one who gave me his diary, you liar!" Natsuo reaches over and flicks Shouto's head. "Shouto did it!"

"What the hell is going on?" Fuyumi comes out of her room.

"These fuckers went through my things." Touya huffs, face now red. "Y/N. Move over please." He inches closer.

"No! Y/N please!" Natsuo cries behind you, clutching on you tighter.

"Whoooaa. Okay, okay let's relax everyone." You nervously chuckle.

"You, take a step back." You put a finger on Touya's chest, lightly pressing him to take a couple steps back into the hallways.

You noticed Touya clenching onto a journal so tight that his knuckles were white, jaw tense seething with anger.

"You two, go with your sister." You pried the two kids from your side, ushering them towards Fuyumi, in which she properly slapped the back of their heads the moment they got to her.

"Idiots. What did I tell you guys? Get in." She huffs before closing the door behind them.

"Don't think you're safe! Your ass is grass once Y/N leaves." He calls out before the door clicks shut.

"You, stop it. Come inside." You pull him in by the elbow.

"Jesus fucking christ." He groans into his hands, throwing the journal on his bed. "You didn't hear any of that, alright? None of that happened."

"Yup. You got it." You silently chuckle to yourself. "Absolutely nothing."

You watch him shove the journal deep into his school bag before throwing it back on the ground and flopping down in his bed, face buried in his pillow.

"FUCK!" He screams into his pillow, tightly gripping the sides of it.

"Okay let's just finish this shit and get it over with." He huffs, turning on his back and leaning up against the headboard, dragging his laptop back up to his lap.

"Oh so you really didn't wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" He shoots you a threatening glance.

You ignored the hostile look, anyways. "You have a crush on me." You bite your bottom lip to hide a side. "That's what that was, right?"

"Who said all that shit was about you, huh?"

"You got another 'Prez' in your life?" You cock an eyebrow.

He went silent for a moment, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath of air.

"Let's not do this right now."

"That's fine." You turn your attention back to your laptop. "I'm just saying, though, you don't have to do 'better' for me to like you. I already do."

Another beat of silence passes.

"Cool. Cool." He squeaks out. "Um. Can you double check my slides for me?" He coughs.

You looked at him in your peripheral to see him covering the bottom half of his face with his hand, hiding the impending blush creeping up his face as he kept his eyes glued to his screen.

"Sure." You smiled. "Only if you double check mine."

-

bonus scene hehe:

over the next week of school, touya had been actively avoiding you- which you expected. it wasn't until one late school day where you had to stay behind for your council meeting when you caught him waiting by your cubby.

"touya." you greeted, holding out your bag for him to take while you started switching your shoes out. "what are you still doing here?"

"got a request to deliver to you, prez." he responds with a smirk, leaning up against the cubbies with your bag under his arm.

"oh yeah? well unfortunate for you, but i'm off the clock. you should file it in the student council box."

"it's a special request that can only be delivered in person." he rolls his eyes. "also i'm walking you home, so you don't really have a choice."

you laugh, starting your way out of school. "okay, then. go for it."

"go out with me this weekend."

your breath hitches from surprise. you had to admit to yourself that you had been waiting for some sort of confession or at the very least a chat about the last time you had seen him, but for him to almost demand a date with you caught you off guard.

"really?" you snap your attention to him, face heating up.

"really."

"i'd love to." you smile. "you feel like talking about it now? or do i gotta go through your diary for that?"

"shut up. it's a journal- two very different things." he nudges you with his elbow. "fuyumi yelled at me after you left and told me that i was an emotionally constipated prick, so i guess that inspired me to get my shit together."

"sooo.." you motion for him to continue.

"sooo...i like you. i have for a while." he starts "and i got my marks up for this quarter. for you. well, technically for me, but i wanted you to see that i was trying."

your heart swelled at this simple act. "you didn't have to do that. i told you i like you regardless- even after you set the toilet on fire."

"we don't talk about that version of me last year." he laughs "and i wanted to. you made me want to do it for me."

you two continue to walk home chirping in conversation and light teases. you had always been drawn to him despite his bad habits and annoying mannerisms, but you knew he always had it in him to do good things and make better choices for himself. knowing that he did it because of his inspiration to be a good person for you only made you like him more.

[warcats-cat]

Warm Fuzzies

Summary: Hermes drops by for a visit, and is not at all prepared for what he finds temporarily sharing your apartment. Cuteness ensues!

A/N: This is a gift for @deltathelittleartist (MagicalEevee on Ao3!) for their AMAZING BEAUTIFUL artwork of Hermes in some outfits from First Valentine. (Seriously, go check it out!!!)

UPDATE DELTA MADE ART FOR *THIS* FIC AS WELL OF HERMES MEETING THE KITTIES AND ITS **ADORABLE** GO LOOK AT IT!!!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

-----

“Uh… what was that…noise?” Hermes' voice floated from your window/door as he carefully shut it.

You beamed, looking anywhere but his eyes. “What noise?” You asked.

There was a quiet squeak from your bedroom.

Hermes took off his sunglasses, “That… noise??”

Another squeak.  Hermes' eyes narrowed, and he turned to the bedroom. Before you could react and move to block his path, he wooshed right to the doorway in a blink and opened the door. You barely had the time to cry, “Careful!!”

The squeaks became slightly louder, now a chorus instead of only one particularly loud voice. A tiny kitten-shaped-blob waddled out of the doorway, and tentatively batted at the hem of Hermes' cloak.

The god of mischief stared down at the kitten blankly.

“So… uh… I can explain…” you stammered. Two more kitten-blobs waddled over to see what their sibling was doing; one climbing onto Hermes' foot and taking a nibble of his sandal strap.

“There are infants in your home…” The god stated, eloquently.

Finally, a cream and brown tortoiseshell cat wandered out, two more babies in tow, and she sat right at Hermes' feet to stare up at him. You moved forward, ready to grab any kittens that decided to continue exploring the room.

“Well, uh, you see - I heard them squeaking last night as I was coming home. They were under my car, ya’know, because it's warm, and I couldn't just leave them in the mall parking lot! So, I ran in really quick and grabbed a box from the back that hadn't been broken down yet and a blanket from my trunk - you should always have a blanket in your car in case you break down - and the mama cat didn't even need to be persuaded! She hopped right in and I piled up her babies and I had to look for the nearest vet because obviously I've never needed one before!” Your rambling was cut off by Hermes pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Breathe, darling,” he giggled. He bent down and gave the mother cat a soft scratch between her ears, eliciting a low purr. All five kittens now huddled at his feet, playing with each other and the god’s cloak.

You smiled, “yeah. Anyway, the vet said they were all healthy. They had probably been dumped that morning, and of course the mother wasn't chipped. But the shelter in the area was full, and I didn't want them to just be left outside, so I volunteered to foster them for a week or so until they can get a better placement.”

You sat down on the floor and the kittens waddled over to you, mewing and squeaking some more. The mother, content that her babies were with a competent guardian, licked your hand and wandered back into your bedroom to retrieve her food.

“I made a little corral for them but the mom kept escaping and taking her babies into my bedroom, so I just kinda let them waddle around in there. She must have escaped again…” you said, carefully picking up a kitten.

Hermes smiled softly, “ah, a fellow artist.” He carefully moved the kittens off of his feet and walked back into the living room area, beginning to fiddle with something.

By the time you had all five kittens and mother back in their makeshift pen, Hermes was walking in behind you and taking them back out.

“Hey! They're supposed to be close together! I don't want them to make a huge mess of my apartment…” you said, following him.

There, in front of the tv, was a proper little corral, complete with a new blanket he had summoned from somewhere. It was built with a sturdy-looking baby gate, and there were plush pillows and even a heating pad and scratching board in the middle.

You stared.

“Where did you get a baby gate in two minutes?”

“One minute, fifteen seconds.” He mumbled under his breath, and then shrugged. “I had one in my bag.” He placed the last kitten in the new corral, and you decided not to ask further…

“What are you going to do about work?” Hermes asked. You frowned, trailing a hand around the edge of the pen and watching a kitten waddle after it.

“I asked for the week off. I can use some PTO hours I've been saving. My manager wasn't thrilled but didn't complain since I got the days covered.”

You felt Hermes lean against you, warm and solid, and he put his head on your shoulder.

“Did you pick a name for any of them?” He asked softly. You blushed, looking away.

“Ah, well. I don't want to get too attached, and the kittens are still too little to do much. I didn't know what to call the mother cat, and the vet suggested a name but at the time I was only half paying attention.”

“What did they suggest?” He asked, leaning more into your space with his stupid mischievous grin. You blushed harder.

“W-well, they thought a cute name would be Molly…”

At the sound of her ‘name’, the mother cat chirped and looked up.

Hermes snorted, breaking into a giggle. “Wait, that's hilarious!”

You batted at him teasingly, smiling yourself. “It's a total coincidence!! I didn't even realize it until I got home and said it out loud!” you insisted.

“Oh, suuuure! I'll be sure to keep that in mind!” he laughed. “I can't wait to tell Circe some of her moly escaped!”

The kittens began to waddle over to investigate the commotion while Molly-the-cat kneaded the pillows, making herself comfortable in the new bedding.

“Whatever!” You said, still smiling, “Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?” Hermes stuck out his tongue at you.

“What, I can't come visit my partner?”

In a quick bid of mischief, you pinched his nose, making him squeak. “Sure, you can visit whenever you want, but I didn't think you were able to stay tonight.” You said.

“Well, now I've found out my partner has infants to take care of! So, I'm going to be a good boyfriend and help them!” He retorted.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, and leaning over to kiss him. “Well, thank you, I guess.” You teased.

The rest of the evening was easy; you and Hermes sat on the couch and could both watch TV and watch the kittens at the same time. They were so tiny and squirmy; you remembered seeing some post a long time ago about the name bumper-car kittens for the stage when the babies were round and unsteady on their feet, and walked with their tiny tails straight up to help them balance. Their mother, meanwhile, seemed happy simply to watch them; occasionally she would nab one and give it a thorough washing, but otherwise she lay there enjoying the warm pillows and heating pad.

-----

You must have dozed off about midnight, leaning against Hermes, because suddenly your alarm was going off and you found yourself in bed, still in the tee shirt and sweatpants from the day previous.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the sight just outside your door.

“Help…” Hermes, laying flat on the floor. One kitten curled up on his chest, close to his shoulder. Two kittens cuddled on his stomach. One kitten trying valiantly to fight the wing on the left side of his head. And Molly with her last kitten tucked close to his side, almost near his armpit.

You did not help, instead giggling and taking many photos of the god who had apparently been bested by a family of felines. The kitten playing with his wing toppled over when it tried to jump and swipe it at the same time, and you carefully picked it up, adding it to the cuddle pile with the other two on his stomach.

He gave you a big pout, widening his eyes and silently begging for rescue. “You're just gonna leave me here?” He asked with a whine.

“Are you kidding? Those things are vicious! I'm not coming within ten feet!” You giggled, stepping carefully over him and heading to the kitchen.

“They ambushed meee!” Hermes whined again, and you laughed.

“Oh, yes, I'm sure! They sure look formidable! What did they do, cry until you laid down?”

You heard a mumble from the living room as you put some pop tarts in the toaster.

“What was that?” You called.

“One climbed up my pant leg when I tried to feed Molly…” he said, slightly louder.

“Uh-huh. And how did that lead to your current situation?” You asked. You could imagine him blushing now, and pulling his wings to cover his eyes like he did when he was feeling bashful. The pop tarts popped out of the toaster, and you carefully set them on a plate. The pair of you could share.

Perhaps…

Stepping carefully back into your living room, you set the pop tarts where the kittens couldn't easily get to them (and hopefully Molly would leave them alone…) and sat next to Hermes' head. None of the kittens even bothered to look at you, too happy to be napping on their oversized heater. Hermes made another face.

“No, really, how did this happen?” You asked again, giggling. You reached and carefully broke off a small chunk of pop tart, waving it in the god's face.

He frowned, trying to lift his head enough to reach the treat before letting it flop back down with a huff.

“Mean to me,” he mumbled; “I told you, the little all white one started climbing my leg.”

“Uh-huh,” you smiled wider, “And?”

“I didn't want her to fall, obviously, so I picked her up and set her on my shoulder for a minute while I went to get cat food, and then she put her little paws in my feathers and it startled me. And then Molly chirped at me like ‘if you hurt my baby’ and hopped out of the gate. And then all of the kittens started crying, and Molly stared at me like ‘see what you did?’ even though it totally wasn't my fault!

So, I was like fine, you little furball and I brought all the babies out and sat down with them on my lap, but then they started climbing to attack my feathers!!” he rambled through his totally accurate and believable story. You snorted, feeding him the chunk of pop tart.

“Uh-huh. Sure, love. Whatever you say.” You giggled while he stuck his tongue out at you.

The pair of you sat like that for almost an hour - him on the floor with a cuddle pile of kittens on his stomach, you feeding him chunks of pop tart in between bites of your own. It was nice. Quiet.

At some point, you also laid on the floor, taking a few kittens to lay on your chest. They squeaked in protest only a moment before settling right back to sleep, and Molly purred loudly between you and Hermes. There was a soft haze to the day; a sleepy day off. You had soft blankets and pillows, soft sleepy kittens, and a soft silly boyfriend to snuggle up to. You and Hermes chatted quietly about his work this week, where all he had to go and why. You rambled about customers at work and the book you had been reading in your downtime.

About noon, the kittens decided their nap was complete, and they waddled around Hermes' torso, looking for a way to get back down from such a great height. The god tried very valiantly not to squirm, but it was clear the tiny paws wandering his abdomen were hitting every ticklish spot he had. The wings on his head flapped once or twice, and suddenly Molly was there, sitting just next to him and sniffing in his hair.

You quickly moved to grab the kittens and put them back in their pen, much to their displeasure if the squeaking and mewing was an indicator; and you watched, as if in slow motion, as Molly carefully lifted a single paw and brought it right back down on Hermes' forehead with a thwap. The god looked stunned, staring at the cat in confusion. You giggled to yourself, wishing you had that on video.

Molly raised a paw to do it again, Hermes still making no move to stop her, and you swooped in and gently lifted the cat away. Thankfully, she wasn't upset, apparently, but she did make her own sound of confusion at where the floor had suddenly gone. You gently cradled her in your arms, realizing now just how warm and solid she was. After a few moments of confusion, she settled, rubbing her face against the underside of your chin and purring loudly. You hummed, cuddling the cat, waiting for Hermes to stand up.

He didn't stand up.

You turned around, and found your boyfriend now staring at you. His typically silver eyes had the faintest tinge of green. You giggled.

“Is someone envious?” You teased, nudging him with your foot.

He looked away, “nooo…”  You could almost hear him blushing. You laughed a little harder, carefully settling Molly into the pen and watching as she gathered her kittens for lunch.

“Oh, no? Not even a little bit?” You pressed, crouching down next to him and poking his side.

Without answering, and faster than a blink, you found yourself laying on top of Hermes (while still on the floor!) with his arms around you.

“Don't know what you're talking about,” he said, though it was muffled from his face being tucked into your shoulder.

“Oh suuuure,” you teased, carefully threading your hands into his hair. You gently moved his head, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Are we feeling a little un-cuddled then?”

He squirmed, and rolled so you were both side-by-side now. “Maaaaaaybe” he drawled. You smiled.

“Well, then, I’ll have to fix that.” He rubbed his nose against yours, now smiling.

“Mm’kay,” he hummed. You wiggled free of his arms and the pair of you moved to the much more comfortable couch; Hermes waved his hand and the tv blinked to life.

The next morning, you would receive a call from the vet office, saying they had found a foster for your little fuzzy family. You were sad to see them go, but happy to know they would all be well taken care of.

And a month or so from now, if a familiar cream and brown cat and small horde of kittens showed up in a selfie of Hermes while he visited his friend Circe, it would just have to bring a smile to your face.

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!! And don't forget to reblog Delta's art too and give them some love!!!)

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

"Your eyes are really pretty up close..."

Summary: You never really noticed before, but being this close to them—mere inches away—you can’t help but blurt it out.

(Hyun ju, Thanos, Nam-Gyu, Young-Il, Dae-Ho, Gi-hun, Min-Su, Sang-woo) (Roh jae won, Choi san, Kim seo wan)

Thanos

You're helping Su-Bong put on a tie before an event, standing on your tiptoes to adjust it properly. He’s watching you in the mirror, but the second you look up and meet his eyes, you pause.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

Su-Bong blinks, his usual stoic expression faltering as a slow, amused smirk tugs at his lips. "You're just noticing now?" he teases, though his ears turn pink.

Nam-Gyu

Nam-Gyu is lying on the couch with his head in your lap, scrolling through his phone while you play with his hair. When he tilts his head back to say something, you meet his gaze and forget what he was going to say entirely.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

He laughs, a bit embarrassed, and lightly swats at your knee. "Aish, don’t say things like that so suddenly. What am I supposed to do with my face now?"

Dae-Ho

You’re sharing earphones, sitting side by side, leaning in to look at something on his phone. When he turns his head slightly, his face is right there, ridiculously close.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

Dae-Ho freezes, blinking rapidly before covering his face with his hand. "What—no, I—don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere!" His voice is muffled, but you can see how red his ears are.

Young il

You're sitting across from Young-Il at a café, and he leans in to show you something on his phone. He’s grinning about whatever meme he found, but you’re too focused on how his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

He raises an eyebrow, then dramatically bats his lashes. "Oh? Are you flirting with me right now?" He’s joking, but the way he tilts his head after makes you think he’s waiting for you to say it again.

Gi Hun

Gi-Hun is telling you some ridiculous story, animated as ever, but you’re only half-listening because he keeps leaning in closer and closer. Finally, you interrupt him.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

He stops mid-sentence, eyes widening before he bursts out laughing. "Ah, you're gonna make me blush!" He rubs the back of his neck but then leans in even closer. "Wait, say it one more time so I can fully enjoy it."

Min su

Min-Su is half-asleep, leaning on your shoulder while you read. You glance down at him, only to find his eyes already fluttering open. The warmth of his gaze is so soft that it makes you whisper,

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

He hums, his lips curling into a sleepy smile as he nuzzles closer. "Mm… keep talking like that, and I might not fall back asleep.

Hyun-Ju

Hyun-Ju is adjusting your collar, fussing over your outfit while you stand still like a mannequin. She’s so close that you can see every detail of her eyes—the way they shimmer under the light.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

She pauses mid-adjustment, blinking at you before a slow grin spreads across her face. "Wow, look at you getting all romantic out of nowhere." She lightly taps your nose. "Say it again."

Hyun-Ju is adjusting your collar, fussing over your outfit while you stand still like a mannequin. She’s so close that you can see every detail of her eyes—the way they shimmer under the light.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

She pauses mid-adjustment, blinking at you before a slow grin spreads across her face. "Wow, look at you getting all romantic out of nowhere." She lightly taps your nose. "Say it again."

Sang Woo

Sang-Woo is explaining something to you, and you’re both leaning over a table, studying his notes. At some point, you just… stop listening. Instead, you quietly say,

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

His pen stops moving. He looks at you, blinks, then clears his throat. "That's…" He glances away, suddenly very focused on his notes. "You always say things like that so randomly?" But the way his ears turn pink says he liked hearing it.

Roh jae won

You’re playing a game together, sitting way too close, elbows bumping. He turns to say something when you meet his gaze and instinctively blurt out,

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

Jae-Won stares at you for a second before a slow, cocky grin spreads across his face. "Whoa, where did that come from? You’re really into me, huh?" He leans in dramatically. "Go on, flatter me more."

Choi San

San is helping you fix your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. His hands are so gentle, and he’s so close that you can’t help but murmur,

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

He freezes, his fingers still resting against your hair. Then, he exhales a quiet laugh. "You’re making it really hard for me to focus right now."

Kim Seo Wan

Seo-Won is sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, staring at you with that same dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over yours.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close…"

His expression softens into something utterly devoted. "Ah… so this must be another sign of our deep connection." He sighs dramatically, clasping your hands. "Do you think fate made your eyes beautiful just for me to admire them? Or do you think The old wise dragon warriors heard my pleas of a beautiful companion to slay dragons with...?"

[dollieskisses]

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝜗𝜚

pairing - dinerowner!chris x customer!reader wc - 534 warnings - playful arguing, swearing towards the end, use of y/n not proofread!

A rushed y/n entered the local diner, the bell rung disturbing the peace. Most heads turned in her direction, she smiled timidly, nodded her head and found a table to rest at. y/n caught the eye of the diner owner, Chris. He gave her a quick stare with an annoyed look plastered on his face. Chris scoffed to himself before continuing with his task.

y/n placed her hand bag onto a spare seat that no one was using, and grabbed for the menu. Her eyes scanned it for a few seconds before she was interrupted by a pattern of knocks against the table. y/n looked up and her eyes met chris' piercing blue ones. "What do you want?" He asked y/n as he tapped his pen against the notepad in his hand. "Uhh can I get a coffee. And what are your healthy options? I'm on a diet." She looked up at chris and laughed slightly to herself. He didn't seem amused. "This is a diner, we have burgers, omelettes, waffles, fries and that's pretty much it."

y/n gazed down back at the menu and tried to let chris' kind of sarcasm go over her head. "Oh." she replied, a defeated sigh escaping her mouth. "C'mon kid, I haven't got all day. Do you want food or not?" chris spit rudely. y/n smiled to herself at his impatience, then her playfulness got the best of her. "Hey, if you're the owner of this place, maybe you should start being a little nicer to your customers? If you just flashed a smile, everyone in town will run in like the wind." y/n smiled sarcastically up at chris, his eyes widened just a small bit. No one had ever had the nerve to speak to chris like that.

He laughed to himself quietly and lowered his head, "Oh so you must be the new famous y/n? How long have you been in town, two days? And you already have everyone talking about you." y/n listened closely, thinking of another snarky way to play with chris. "A reputation? Oh my! Who knew everybody here would be so nice!" she batted her eyelashes.

"There not, and you can leave now." chris was done with her speaking to him, and he returned a copy of her sarcastic smile. y/n scoffed and grabbed her bag to walk back out. chris went back to his spot behind the counter with a smug look on his face. But before y/n exited the door he called out, "and maybe you can find your healthy options someplace else." Which y/n returned with, "I will!" She said it with a sing-song tone, leaving her with the last word.

Chris watched her walk past the diner window, she had a grin appearing as she went to find a new place to eat. "Holy shit chris, you've got some competition." A customer appeared at the cash register, making chris pay attention to them instead. "Shut up clyde." Chris mumbled, but soon after a small smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth.

He seemed intrigued. And he definitely wanted to see y/n again.

a/n: ahhhhh! how are we liking dinerowner!chris??? i'm enjoying this wayy too much! if you guys have any suggestions please send them in! i would love to respond and interact with them!!!

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊Tags: @emely9274

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 ���𝒐𝒙𝒐

[marauders-bs]

p4! and so soon :3 @jamie-potters ty for the comment it made me finish this <3 @r0seprincess no meadowes kids this time 😔 next time tho @im-a-mess-of-a-person :3

masterlist

Hermione watched Dorcas sprint, laughing with her braids flying behind her, summer sun glinting off the grass.

Regulus was just in front of her, laughing quieter but still laughing. 

"Fine!" a boy's voice called, and Hermione realized as she looked around that Barty, Evan and Pandora were with Dorcas and Regulus. The boy who had spoken was Barty. "Fine, Reg wins, and my dumbass should learn to stop challenging you two to races."

"You should learn," Pandora said. Barty flicked her arm.

"Are you guys going to try out for the Quidditch team?" Evan asked, meeting Dorcas and Regulus in the middle of the field. "I think the Keeper and the Seeker just graduated."

Regulus shrugged. "I'm not sure I will. That kind of thing will get back to my mother fast, and she'll think I'm turning into Sirius."

"I might," Dorcas said. "I'm not sure I'm good enough, but it's worth a shot. Bat, you're good enough to be a Beater, I think."

"Dora too," Barty said, nudging her. "We would be the best power duo."

"Bone-breaking duo," Regulus said. "Everyone would rue the day Flitwick let you play."

Pandora nodded, smiling. Every memory Hermione saw with her in it made her wonder what had happened to the twins to make them practically swap personalities. 

The memory began to whirl, and Hermione smiled at it. She knew the way Dorcas went out, and she was glad that she seemed to have a good childhood.

-

The next scene was the inside of the Slytherin common room. Dorcas was pointing her wand at a Muggle pen and trying to transform it- into what, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Just do it without the wand," Evan said. "You're better without it."

"I know," Dorcas said. She looked over at him, smiling, but something in his expression made her smile drop.

Evan picked up his quill, eyes vacant, and began to sketch without looking at his paper. Five drawings appeared out of the seemingly random strokes– a boy who looked like Regulus, but older, reaching a hand upwards as hands drug him down into water. An older Dorcas stood angry, wand nowhere to be seen but hands outstretched, as a jet of light shot at her. Evan himself laying in Barty's arms, dead, as the blond boy screamed at the sky. Pandora looked like she was flying backwards, a cauldron in front of her. Barty's eyes were vacant but he was standing, a dementor in front of him.

Hermione didn't believe in Divination, but this might be something to prove her wrong. She knew that Luna's mum had blown herself up, Regulus had drowned in the lake and that Barty had received the Dementor's Kiss. That was the drawings on the paper.

"Ev?" Dorcas asked, pulling the notebook towards her. Her own death predicted on the page didn't seem to faze her, but the others did. "Ev?"

"What?" he asked, pulling the notebook back to him. "Did I do this?"

"Just now," she answered. "Evan, what-"

"I don't know either," he said. "I don't know why Dora would be messing around with potions. That's my thing, not hers."

Dorcas shrugged, concerned look on her face, but Evan went back to his work, so Dorcas did too. 

-

The next memory was the Quidditch pitch. Dorcas stood there beside three older people, two boys and a girl. She didn't seem nervous, but confident in her abilities. 

The Chasers sent seven hard goals to the first potential Keeper, and he missed five. The captain just waved him off, turning to the next boy. He did even worse, missing six of the goals. The older girl saved six but missed the seventh, which was understandable as it was a professional-level shot.

Then it was Dorcas's turn. Hermione had never met the girl, yet she couldn't help but hold her breath as Dorcas saved one, two, three, four, five, six shots. The seventh was the one the older girl had missed, a feint to one side and a shot on the far goal. Dorcas managed to save that one and throw it to a Chaser halfway down the field, making it look simple and stupid that the other girl had missed it.

The captain raised an eyebrow at Dorcas, who was a third-year. "How'd you make those?" he asked.

"I practice," she said simply. "And I'm good at what I do."

"'Good at what you do,' my ass." the captain said. "Do you have your wand on you?"

"No," Dorcas answered calmly. "I don't need it. I'm perfectly capable of saving goals without help."

One of the Chasers rolled his eyes. "We can just take both of them, you know. Let Meadowes play until she gets herself injured too bad."

Hermione could actually feel Ron thrumming with anger from beside her. He was protective of all people, even ones he didn't know very well. It was Hermione's favorite thing about him, if she was honest.

The captain made a face at the Chaser who had spoken. "You're usually right, Anna, but we haven't let someone below fifth year on the team in more than a decade."

"I'll take talent over age," one of the Beaters said. "That might just be me, though."

"Not just you," muttered the Chaser who had made the most difficult shots, picking at her nails. 

"Fine," the captain said. He turned to Dorcas and her opponent. "Meadowes, congratulations, you're on the team. Sorry, Blanchet, but you're going to be our reserve Keeper for if Meadowes gets hurt."

The girl – Blanchet? – took it better than McLaggen had. She clapped Dorcas on the shoulder, and the memory began to whirl.

-

"So, Sirius told me you're on the Slytherin team?" Marlene said, swinging down into the seat beside Dorcas. A glance around told Hermione that they were back in the Transfiguration classroom.

"Why would Sirius know that?" Dorcas asked, pulling out an ink bottle.

"Baby Black, obviously," Marlene replied. "Him and Sirius together must know everything that goes on in the school."

"That's because of Barty, not Reg," Dorcas said, laughing a little. "For all his loudmouth tenancies, he does a surprising amount of lurking."

Marlene laughed, very clearly surprised at Dorcas's honesty. Hermione knew about her brutal honesty at that point, and she was a bit taken aback that Marlene didn't know about that.

McGonagall entered the room then, Dorcas turned to her, and the memory spun away.

-

The next memory showed Dorcas looking stoic in a locker room similar to the one that Hermione had spent time in because of Ron and Harry. The grip she had on her broom told Hermione that her entire attitude was probably faked. 

"Are you ready for this, Meadowes?" the only other female player asked, lacing up her boots. "Ravenclaw's really good this year thanks to those new Beaters they got. Second years, both of them, and one's a girl, but they work together better than anyone I've ever seen."

"I'm friends with the Beaters," Dorcas said dismissively. "One of them will do his level best to knock anyone off their broom except me and the other will be a problem because she's actually smart."

"Which one?" the captain asked from where he was pulling on his jersey.

"The girl," Dorcas said. "The blond one's book-smart but incredibly stupid. He's only on the team because he's powerful. Pandora's smart and strong."

"Hope you all heard that," the captain called to the team. "The girl Beater's the smarter one and the boy will just try to knock you off your broom. If you can take her out of commission, do, but try not to get taken out of the game, Dahar."

"Boring," one of the Beaters muttered. "But fine."

"Anything else, since you're friends with them?" the Chaser girl asked.

Dorcas looked deep in thought. "Levine is their lead Chaser, but he's not as good as Abbas is. They let him lead because it's his last year, but it's going to be Abbas who scores if anyone does."

"Their Seeker?" the Slytherin Seeker asked.

"Smart, as Ravenclaw Seekers usually are," Dorcas replied. "His broom is horrible and he refuses to buy another one, so he'll be slow."

The Chaser girl grinned and clapped Dorcas on the back, "Earning your keep this game, aren't you? Bet your friends are going to be real mad when they lose."

"They already know they're going to lose, Anna," Dorcas said with a grin.

"That's the spirit," the captain said. "Alright, everyone up. They're going to call Ravenclaw first because they hate us, but we'll be soon after that. Order we fly out in is as it usually is– Koz, Ford, me, Dahar, Stroll, Meadowes, and St James. It's going to be a rough game, but we have our own little secret weapon."

"Stop making jokes about my height, asshole," Dorcas muttered, but she was smiling as everyone laughed with her.

Outside the room, someone began to call out the names of the Ravenclaws. Hermione heard only two she recognized- Crouch Jr and Rosier, presumably Barty and Pandora, and then the commentator began to call names the captain had said. The Chaser girl, Anna, flew out first, kicking hard off the ground and flying through the curtain. The second Chaser followed, then the captain, then the two Beaters, then Dorcas.

Hermione felt the wind in her hair like she was flying with Dorcas. She watched her do a loop around Barty, stick her tongue out, and fly to the goalposts. 

A memory interrupted the main one, sort of like a flashback within a flashback.

Dorcas was sitting with Anna and the captain, presumably after a practice.

"Hey, Meadowes," the captain said. "If you save more goals than we score, I'll let you hit Snape for every save you make. I'll even whipe his memory for you."

"That sounds fantastic," Dorcas said, grinning at him sideways.

The memory went back to Dorcas in front of the goalposts, waiting there as a younger Madame Hooch called out to the captains. Dorcas's captain shook hands with the Ravenclaw one, looking as though his mind was already in the sky.

Hermione still didn't understand Quidditch, and the fact that the memory only showed Dorcas's saves made it harder still to follow. One flash showed a Bludger coming at Dorcas at top speed, one of the Beaters throwing her his bat, and her smacking it as hard as she could at Barty and throwing the bat back to its rightful owner. Pandora smacked Barty's head the next time she flew by.

The memory began to whirl suddenly as a bludger rocketed towards Dorcas. She looked at it in surprise and tried to dive out of the way, but the memory went black.

send thoughts and prayers grade check ins for my seventh graders come out tomorrow and 1/2 of them are failing because they won't do the two pieces of gd homework i assigned them IT'S CADEN'S OWN DAMN FAULT HE'S FAILING JENNIFER HE HASN'T DONE AN ASSIGNMENT IN TWO MONTHS

[frostyhelltime]

A Folly of a Plan

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here.

Alastor x singerOC

Warnings: None, just Alastor being manipulative. So it's your average day.

Clara could already feel quite easily how charmed she was by him that first night. Everything he did felt…calculated didn't feel quite like the right word, but she couldn't think of another. The leaning back to look more alluring and match her own posture, pulling her closer than he needed to during their dance, his smile...but somehow she didn't mind.

It's when he's back another night and they find themselves chatting by the bar again that she takes note of the gloves she remembered him wearing that first night too. It seemed to be a usual part of his outfit.

"A man of taste I see. These are quite nice gloves." She compliments, used to discerning good fabric from shoddy fabric. A skill her mother instilled in her to help keep up the appearances her father was oh so fond of.

She instinctively reaches for his hand without thinking and Alastor looks over at their connected hands as Clara strokes her thumb against his gloved palm. She at least has the presence of mind to take her hand away quickly. Quite an observant and quick learner, it seems.

“My mother always said that we must dress to impress.” He says, always smiling in his charming way before offering his hand to her.

“You seem to have just as much boundless energy as the other night. Do you need a little help burning off that excess?” He asks, his polite tone not hinting at any kind of ulterior motive.

She looks to the band, listening to the slowed sound they were playing for now. It wasn't bad…and he was right. She did still feel entirely too restless. She chuckles to herself and turns back to him, taking his hand and lifting off her seat.

“Anyone ever tell you you can read people like a book?” She asks playfully as they walk out to the dancefloor. At least the song is slow enough they can continue to talk.

“Once or twice.”

There's a hint of mischief in his eyes and she almost wants to question it.

“As for what your mother said…mine said something similar. She sounds like a brilliant woman.” Clara compliments, unaware of the brownie points she was unknowingly earning by complimenting his mother.

“Likewise.” He chuckles. Their conversation flows far easier than he expected, if he's being honest. He doesn't even realize that not one, not two, but three songs have passed by the time they stop chattering enough to check the time. She was quick witted and easy to talk to, had fascinating opinions on everything, from politics to business to theatre and music. He could see them being quite good friends. He supposes when he's no longer being gossiped about and he dumps her, he'll have to try to see if they can remain amicable. But he's getting ahead of himself now.

Clara is actually a little sad when she's worked out that excess energy and ready to return to the bar with him. Perhaps she'll ask him if he'll come see her perform again, so she can steal another dance.

It's when they go back to sit at the bar that she addresses Roy again.

"I know it's a pain but could you make a sidecar for little ol' me?" Clara asked, batting her eyelashes even though they both knew she didn't have to. It's easy for the man to just huff a laugh and roll his eyes playfully.

"Only because you asked so nicely.”

Once Roy has gone to attend to other customers and they were left alone again, he turns to her.

“How about ‘I Can't Give You Anything But Love'? For my request, I mean. There are some…difficult high notes in the song but you seem to be fond of those sorts of songs.” He comments, having noticed the types of songs she likes to cover, both from seeing her perform and their talks on their own favorite singers.

As they sit at the bar and sip their drinks, he's fishing in his pocket for something before he pulls out a business card. He looks around and grabs a leftover pen from the bar and begins writing down something.

“As much as I enjoy keeping your company all to myself…I do have a radio show. I think it would be marvelous to have you come on and sing a song or two.” He says, glancing at her briefly. He has to hold back a chuckle at how shocked she looks, not realizing the connection she had made when they met.

Her mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide a moment. If she was more cognizant she would feel foolish for acting so silly. But there's no time to think about that as she nods her head rapidly, pulling herself together and beaming at him.

"Oh I would absolutely love to!!" She agrees quickly, leaning a bit closer to see what he was writing, but not so close she would accidentally touch him.

“I get recognition for discovering new talent,you get more eyes on you and this…” He pauses a moment, trying to think of a word that was more complimentary than what he wanted to say.

“...venue.” He finishes and she snickers a moment, knowing full well he was being polite. The place wasn't a dump. But it certainly wasn't the fanciest place.

She certainly wouldn't have minded being close to him and casually touching him, but the fact he's wearing gloves indoors and the way he seemed to recoil slightly when Roy's hand accidentally brushed against his to hand off a drink earlier...she thinks he probably isn't a touchy person in general, and makes sure to keep her hands to herself unless he initiates. It's easy to not be bothered by it though, his charming smile making her own feel so effortless.

Her smile goes from exuberant to simply content, although it's clear she's still excited and almost unable to sit still with this new offer before her. It's almost…adorable, he thinks.

"Will you...come to another show?" She asks tentatively, holding the card close to her chest as if it's a valuable treasure.

"You'll see me here again, my dear. I can assure you of that." He says with his signature smile and added a wink before he departs. Alastor notices Clara reach for him in her excitement to thank him for the opportunity, and then stop, taking her hand back before she made contact. She must be observant as well. That may be a problem later on for him but he wasn’t going to worry about it for now. Right now he was just going to enjoy the fact that for the duration of this plan he wouldn't be tormented by constant touching.

"It was very lovely to see you again, Miss Massou." He says giving a polite bow before he says goodbye and heads out himself, giving her one last playful wink before he does.

Clara beamed, still on cloud nine from the business card still resting securely in her hands.

There's a slight rosiness to her cheeks and a bashful smile on her face when he winks at her as he goes, and it's clear that, at least from him, she enjoys the attention.

"I can't wait. It was very lovely seeing you again too." She calls out as he's leaving, standing and doing a small curtsy herself to be polite, a well-practiced motion she has done many times for many different events...but not usually in a place like this.

She can tell he seems a bit old fashioned, but there's something about that she finds endearing, and even charming. He seems old fashioned in all the right ways, she thinks. Polite, a gentleman, but modern in the right aspects as well. He was in a jazz bar after all. He also seems earnestly polite, like he's respectful because it's what he wants to do, and not because it's what others tell him to do. There's also something about that she quite likes as well. She looks down at the card again once he's gone, biting her lip to contain a soft squeal of excitement before getting ready to leave herself.

———⋅˚₊‧♬ ‧₊˚ ⋅———

She's positively giddy as she walks through town, a brilliant smile on her face that she can't hide as she passes people by on the way to the radio station. This time she wasn't dressed up as the glamorous Clara Massou, in a fancy and tight dress, and alluring smokey eyes and red lips beckoning you from across the room. That was a getup that looked striking on the stage where she needed to be dramatic, but felt garishly out of place in the light of day. She was dressed as she normally would be during the day. Fresh faced but still beautiful with rosy cheeks, an elegant and more conservative dress covering her frame and keeping her modesty quite well hidden as she carried herself with her normal poise and grace. It would be quite easy to not realize they are one and same woman, with how drastic the wardrobe and makeup changes are.

She smooths out her dress almost absentmindedly, more of a nervous habit than anything before she knocks on the door to the station, her eyes lighting up when she hears the door open.

"Hello again! Its Clara." She explains almost immediately, in case the change in appearance has him stumped since he has only met her a few times.

Alastor, for his part simply looks confused until she speaks, and the voice clicks for him.

“My, my. What a transformation.” He hums aloud to himself, opening the door wider for her as he looks her over. Quite a chameleon apparently.

Clara has to hold back a small giggle at the quickly covered look of surprise Alastor has at seeing her so differently today. Surprise is quite a cute look on him, she thinks.

"I'm so delighted to be here! Thank you for having me!" Her smile is earnest and truthful as she does a polite curtsy for him in place of a handshake, thinking he would likely prefer that. The edge of his smile quirks up just a little more naturally at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit as she walks past him without touching him.

“I'm just as delighted. I have to say I am surprised. You look like an entirely different person…” He shakes his head in fascination. “But still just as beautiful, of course.” No sense wasting time when it's clear she's interested. The sooner he can date her, the sooner he can be done with it all.

She smiles back at him, not turning her head away even as she feels her cheeks redden just the slightest bit.

"And I see you're just as handsome and charming as I remember, thankfully." She compliments him back, her tone polite enough that it could be seen as a genuine compliment instead of a flirtation. Of course...there was no way of knowing for sure though. But she wouldn't flirt so shamelessly and obviously. Yet, anyway.

“Nervous?” He asks her curiously as he leads her in, getting her some water for now and himself a cup of coffee.

She looks bashfully down at her foot, which she can't seem to stop tapping against the ground.

“How could you tell?” She jokes even as she takes the water and drinks.

“You'll do fine, I'm sure. Your voice is magnificent.” He compliments, and not even as an attempt to further woo her. He had met many talented people in his life that he had brought into his station but it's been awhile since he had brought someone on with talent like hers.

He helps her get set up in the sound booth with him pretty easily. She at least seemed familiar with recording equipment, which wasn't surprising given her clear passion to have a music career. She still looks nervous as she sits across from him in front of her own microphone. But there's no more time to delay. The show must go on and it was almost time to go live.

Alastor welcomes back the audience and introduces Clara reminding them that he had found her at the local jazz club he likes to go to. Short, sweet, simple intro.

When it was her turn to speak he leans back in his chair listening to her, his eyes watching carefully. Alastor could tell she was nervous which was cute in a way but he understood why her nerves were so heightened. This was quite the opportunity for her, he imagines.

She's nervous as she speaks, and she sounds like it too at first but the more she talks the more she transforms back into the woman he saw on stage.

“H-Hi! Hello! This is Clara Massou. I'm so happy to be here with you all today. I really wanted to show off my range of capabilities. So..I do hope you enjoy what I've prepared!" She begins and takes a deep breath before the music starts.

She's still clearly fighting her nerves until the music starts, and then it's almost as if a switch has been flipped and then she's truly the stage siren he saw back in the jazz lounge again. She closes her eyes and feels the music just as much as she sings it, despite the only one able to see her being Alastor. Her voice is soft and full of longing at first before it begins to build, her strength and power coming through, eventually building into such a powerful and clear sound that it's hard not to be captivated by her working her craft expertly, even without the visual of seeing her facial expressions full of passion.

There was something hypnotizing about her voice and he knew it wasn't just him that thought that. Being the observant man that Alastor was he witnessed her voice captivating the audience at the lounge, and he's relieved to see it hadn't been a fluke or a one time thing.

When Clara really began to sing Alastor closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the woman's voice. It truly was pleasant to the ears. When she finishes he claps his two hands together before taking the microphone and signing off for the night.

She was so lost in what she loves that she blinks in surprise, jumping slightly when she hears him clap, practically forgetting for a moment he was there.

“You heard her here first folks. Be on the lookout for the name you're sure to see everywhere someday, Clara Massou!” He grins at her and gives her a playful wink. The high praise and wink to go along with it just makes her blush, a smile so big on her face she thinks her cheeks may hurt later.

“In the meantime you can find her singing at the Sapphire Flame on 7th Street.” He is focused on his broadcast again and doesn't even realize she's staring at him until he's officially off the air. Once he does he turns to face her fully, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” He asks her curiously.

“Sorry. You're just…a natural. You sound like you were made for radio!” She gushes excitedly, her hands clasped together as she praises him.

He actually laughs at that, instead of a reserved chuckle this time.

“I'm glad. Radio to me is what music seems to be to you.” He says. If there's one thing he can't deny, it's her passion for it. But passion only gets you so far. Fortunately, much like him, he thinks she has both the skills and the charisma to go far.

Shame this is all a farce. He imagines they would be quite the power couple if they stayed together.

"I have no doubt there will be talent agencies reaching out to you at the jazz lounge soon enough." Alastor says giving Clara a friendly nod as he stands and opens the door for them to walk through and leave the booth.

"I hope so!" She nods vehemently, unable to hide her excitement as they walk out. Nor would she want to. "I have butterflies in my stomach just like the first night I was the main singer at the lounge." She laughs and smiles almost bashfully, looking away slightly as she recalls the way her heart had pounded in anticipation when she stepped onto that stage by herself for the first time.

"This was just absolutely wonderful. Thank you again for inviting me." She says politely, doing a small but polite curtsy out of habit. Another softer edge to the smile of his at her quite polite habit, that he's pieced together is for his benefit. Besides, he always found good manners charming, after all.

“Of course. I do hope you'll still save me a dance after your performances, even as you get popular.” He says, voice dropping a little lower as he moves closer to her. He can tell his attempts at flirting are certainly working from the way her breath hitches and her eyes widen.

He is handsome and charming, and she's aware he knows it. She was used to a lot of men flashing their money and/or good looks and assuming that was enough. But that wasn't exactly her style. Good looks and money were great obviously, but if the personality wasn't right for her, she could care less about their net worth or their looks. He didn't do any of that. He didn't show off his money or anything like that. He was just...him. He just…showed his charms, his politeness, his good taste, his humor…how she could possibly say no to that offer?

“O-of course.” She manages to get out when her throat doesn't feel so dry.

———⋅˚₊‧♬ ‧₊˚ ⋅———

Over the next few weeks, Clara finds she starts to look for him in the crowd during her performances, smiling nice and big when he catches her eye. She's really started looking forward to their dances and conversations afterwards too, usually heading over to where he was after a show once she's done a little bit of networking and fan service. Neither one says anything about the fact that routine has become a habit, but it's an unspoken rule that they follow.

This night was no different, although she was taking a little longer than usual get over there, talking to a man in a business suit excitedly as he hands her a card.

In the past the brunette haired man would only go to the lounge a few times a week but now he had been going nearly everyday. Just to see her. At first it was just to continue this little game of flirtation they so publicly did, but eventually he realized he was going regardless.

He was once again making small talk with Roy while he waited for her to inevitably get to him. It was like clockwork. Alastor shows up, chats with Roy, listens to her sing, chats some more while she networks, and then they can dance and talk the night away as much as they please.

Clara bounces over and sits in the chair next to Alastor and holds out a fancy looking business card for them to see, oddly more energetic than usual, and seemingly bursting with the urge to speak.

"That fella over there is hosting a private party with some people, and one or two of them are from the music industry and he wants me to perform! He said he heard me on your radio show, Alastor! And he just had to come check me out himself to see if I would be a good fit for the gig!" Clara is looking at Alastor as she talks excitedly at first, practically bouncing in her seat in uncontained excitement.

Alastor looks at Clara, hardly surprised. "See what did I tell you cheri?" He says, testing the waters with a cute nickname he's sure will likely make the red on her cheeks bloom, like he's gotten the hang of causing. She blinks a few times, eyes widening as she processes the name. Once she does, her rosy cheeks are evident as she glanced to the side and smiles to herself, clearly pleased with the name choice. Exactly as he thought.

He thinks now is the perfect time to strike.

"Are you busy or would you care to join me outside for a walk in the moonlight? It is rather stuffy in here." He says.

Then she's looking up at him again despite her blush and she's nodding almost immediately, unable to hide any eager edge to her voice.

"That sounds just lovely! I bet the sky looks just beautiful tonight." She nods again, standing up off the stool once she finishes her drink.

Alastor was solely focused on Clara as they spoke. The way her blue irises were blinking, the way she blushed when he called her cheri, and how she was oh so quick to agree to join him. His plan was going perfectly. He had her nearly eating out of his palm.

Once she has a coat on to keep herself warm she gladly leaves with Alastor, Clara talking to him about her opinion on what he talked about on his radio show that day.

“-and you were completely right about the cast at Pearl Theatre! They truly outdid themselves this time!”

She had been a little shy about admitting she listened to it at first, but the more they talked and spent time together the more she enjoyed hearing his thoughts and opinions on topics.

Alastor listened to her, actually a little surprised she had become such an avid listener. "Ahh, so you listen to me? I am flattered." He says smoothly. His smile only grew wider, but genuinely wider as she shyly explained when she first listened in. It had been the day after she had appeared, it seemed. So she had meant it when she had complimented him so earnestly that day.

Despite being bashful before she has a bit of her brazen courage back again now that they're alone.

"I do! I found myself listening after that day and I don't think I can stop now." She laughs as she walks alongside him.

You truly do have such a wonderful voice made for radio." She finds herself sighing wistfully as she compliments him. She even thinks perhaps she can be a bit bolder, at least with that pet name he called her earlier.

"It's just an absolute shame your listeners don't get to see that you look as good as you sound." She looks to him and bats her eyelashes, a coy smile on her face as she flirts back a little less subtly. It has become easier to be herself when it was just the two of them, at least when he wasn't throwing her off balance with his own flirtations. Her natural self was more confident, outgoing, and bold than the usual scattered mess he seemed able to reduce her to sometimes.

“Oh? I suppose that's some knowledge you'll have to live with being the sole owner of.” He teases before gently taking her hand and tugging her out of the way of a puddle she's about to step in as if he wasn't the one that usually recoiled at most casual touches she's seen him have to endure. On the other hand he doesn't seem to realize the unusual action of his, but Clara does, and her heart is beating faster knowing he reached for her first, even if it was just to keep her from mussing up her shoes.

She's so distracted by that fact, and the fact he doesn't let her hand go afterwards for a few moments that she doesn't quite realize he's talking to her again at first.

"Ah. I'm sorry. What?" She blinks a moment, her gaze shifting from his hand to his face again.

“I said...If I might be so…bold. Would you perhaps be interested in dinner with me sometime?” He asks, as if he isn't nervous at all. Which he isn't, to be honest. No need to be nervous when you're so very sure she'll say yes.

Despite his obvious flirtations, and her even more obvious ones, she's still taken aback when he actually asks her out. She feels almost silly for not expecting it, especially when she's normally so very used to people asking her out. Except this time she would actually like to accept.

"I would love to!” She says the words so quickly they practically run together. “Name a time and place and I'll make sure I'm there in my best!" She says in a forcefully more calm voice, doing a small twirl in her current dress for emphasis despite her trying to make her voice sound less eager. Although whether she's emphasizing her figure or her dress was up for debate.

Alastor chuckles, placing his hand over his mouth as he watches the display she puts on.

"Hmmm." He hums. "Lets say this Friday? I will pick you up at six o'clock and take you to a real nice place?" Alastor questions, smiling at her eagerness. He was very pleased that he was wrapping Clara around his finger but he didn't realize that she wasn't the only one; didn't realize the small ways he was becoming more comfortable with her, and the way their dynamic was shifting and becoming easier between them from all the casual talks and the way their personalities meshed so well, like tides pulling at each other.

"That sounds perfect. I'll make sure I'm ready!" She's happy to agree, nailing down the details of where to pick her up. She feels like she's on cloud nine all the way home, humming delightfully to herself as she takes a bath and thinks of what to wear, deciding to spoil herself a little and use some of the fancy oils and perfumes for the bath that her father usually brought back from business trips.

Although, on the other side of town, as Alastor looked over the address she gave him for a pick up spot for their date, he chews on his lip nervously. He began to wonder if perhaps he had picked the wrong target. Perhaps picking up someone from that neighborhood might be a little more attention than he bargained for…

But still...surely he could figure something out if there were any troubles.

[fetidfruit]

application.

── ( sophie thatcher. twenty-four. nonbinary, she/they. ) thank god you’re here, man - have you seen PATTI FONTAINE anywhere? i totally lost them after their rendition of creep by radiohead last night. no? they’re like, aye - high and go to PALLADIAN - i think they’re a JUNIOR studying GOTHIC FILM STUDIES & CLAYMATION? but who knows, these days. all i know is that they’re DEADPAN, SARCASTIC and a SCORPIO . last night they kept going on and on about how they won PRINCE OF THE RATS last year, which is cool and whatever, but i just wouldn’t expect it out of them, considering they’re so, like, OFFPUTTING and WITHDRAWN, you know? anyways - i’m going to check down by fourm darkrooms, i think that’s where they like to hang. text me if you see them, okay? bye! / as penned by nai, 28, gmt.

student file.

full name — patricia violet fontaine.

nickname(s) — patti. patricia is FORBIDDEN for UGLINESS (patti's words not mine)

place of birth — yorkshire dales.

date of birth & age — nov 2nd, twenty-four.

gender / pronouns — nb, she/they.

sexuality — bisexual.

dormitory — holland hall.

interests — spiders. bats. the most low budget gore in the tubi horror section. amanda from saw. foxes screaming in the dead of night. mary shelley. body horror. the black mould in jk rowlings bedroom. bram stoker's dracula. sad clowns. niche french films with delayed subtitles. lynchian everything. over exposed photography. goth modded bratz dolls. black coffee. moths. this one black ram doll in a long victorian nightgown their dad made them. black cats discordantly strutting piano keys. saint sebastian's pierced arrow. shadow puppets. upturning stones to find weird bugs. ethel cain. black veils worn for no reason. engraved hatchets. spaghetti dyed black like demon worms. hybrid taxidermy (i.e. bat winged fawn). red contacts. biblical monsters.

aversions — shawn mendes. not being able to make ur teeth fall out or grow sharp at will. LA influencers. harry styles' hairline. minimalism. coasters. people who say they were cyber bullied. churches without massive fuck off organs. loud traffic when ur trying to sleep. leaving the house in the cold without wearing a huge russian babushka fur hat. not having horns. men who don't bark on all fours when politely requested to. badger hunting. yappy dogs. broken yolks. loose ends that haunt u. being asked to explain what a film means. receiving sympathy.

quirks — playing the organ (learned at church growing up). has birthed several lambs and horses by hand. sometimes bites themselves. finds the flagellation of christ erotic.

notable features — eye makeup like a hot boxed raccoon. choppy mullet. sometimes long flowing victorian gowns n fuckass boots, sometimes tit bound n suited, depends on the appetite for androgyny that day!

general disposition — foreboding frankly. sometimes cackles sometimes is silent n staring. forrest gump voice: u never kno what u gon get! loves to bully. r they joking r they not? that's a secret i'll never tell...

public record.

ok so. grew up at a farm in the yorkshire dales bt then her parents split n narcissistic mum moved to london to hop around finding the richest option to move on dot com. wound up at a fancy ass townhouse in kensington so cherCHING mission successful n now patti has a 9 yr old stepbrother who they lowkey suspect is a sociopath / future serial killer bt they're obsessed w him so they overlook it temporarily bc like in fairness they're like. ok maybe i'd grow up to be a serial killer if i had to spend that time w our mum fr. so ya lived between two homes from then on #divorce n always preferred the farm. bestiesssss w their dad who is also neurodivergent like patti so they kind of hv always just Got each other n bonded as such. he's a bit of an eccentric n talks more to his farm animals than people bt he's patti's beloved n role model despite hw much flack their mum gives him fr being different.

(missing person tw incoming) alwyas a bit of a black sheep ugly duckling in school bt somehow bonded w a sweetie coded ray of sunshine who had dyed pink hair at the ripe age of 13 n used to always scrunch up her nose when she laughed (regularly milkshake wld come out of her nose upon such occasions). they were besties n thick as thieves and each other's favourite person in the world. vaguely homoerotic undertones never acknowledged. both patti n bestie (name tbd i jst refer as paper chain girl in my head don't ask) hd a lot going on at home n their coping mechanisms were kind of the dividing factor tht sent them on different paths. her best friend went down a dark road where patti cldnt follow her n eventually got a late night bus n disappeared from town without a trace. the police investigated her as a missing person bt she was never found n presumed dead after a certain amt of years by the vast majority

as a result of this patti kind of withdrew n wld only form superficial connections bc they were just so hurt from losing someone who felt like a part of them. they still dnt quite feel Whole to this day. they put a lot of their unresolved emotions into their art (claymation w a lot of body horror featuring) n a lot of it's pretty dark n sad n gothic as a result. they see life thru a kind of jaded pessimistic lens bt also try to maintain a nihilistic approach like well nothing matters lol <3 to make it thru.... hence not taking too much seriously a majority of the time.

personal details.

LOVESSSSSSSSS to bully men. has a leather leash hanging up in their dorm just bc despite NOT owning a dog if u kno what i mean.

smuggled a scrawny black cat in tht lives out of their dorm tht has bright yellow eyes. named doom. patti's absolute beloved. patti is nvr softer than when she's scratching doom behind the ears. sleeps curled up w them like a hot water bottle. doom has ferocious tuna breath that scares the hoes n patti's like awwww so cute <3

obsessed w the gothic in many aspects of life. gothic victorian clothing (loves vintage n the like), old gruesome bt beautiful renaissance paintings of brutal battles scenes, any heartbreaking greek myth with monstrous creatures who patti almost always sides with, insect metamorphosis stages (patti finds these symbolic for many things n is fascinated by analysis n metaphor regarding such), anything involving cannibalism or vampires, old medieval castle architecture ESPECIALLY if it involves stone gargoyles, wabi sabi / signs of wear in old abandoned mansions (patti thinks imperfections r far more interesting than seamless minimal monstrosities), they even hv a lamp made out of various xray scans of different times theyve broken bones (frequent thru being an adventurous gremlin growing up on a rural farm)

frequently intimate w many people despite never actively being intimate w anyone. like there's nvr any emotion or feeling there patti just doesn't know how to connect the two n finds it very difficult to truly go beyond surface lvl most of the time. mayb one day..... (winks at potential plot) bt it wld be a slow burn for sure.

i feel like contrary to the scary / intimidating demeanour patti puts out they can b quite a yapper n a cackler bt it's unlocked rarely by a select few....... like u have to meet the criteria the fungus in her brain tells her is necessary except they aren't even particularly sure themselves what that is.... (many subconscious walls put up to guard them from forming connections) (thirl go to therapy!)

desired plots.

SOOOOOOOOO i'm open to anything if u read and get an idea off the top of ur head but i'll cobble together a couple of things below jst to get the ball rolling!!

not in love: mayb some sort of lowkey fwb situation bt feelings were caught from ur muses side n patti didnt quite kno how to compute it. idk we can discuss the complexities of it bt maybe for some reason they keep coming back to each other anyway despite patti's inability to connect loins n heart n it's just quite a messy situation w various jealousies inevitable. me starting off my wcs w this toxic little number posing cutely w one sleeve of my nightgown slipped off my shoulder so sultry.... tbh this could be multiple ppl bc of the elusive nature of patti's #whorings (that one boy in hp so dramatically vc: it's loik tryin ta catch smoke wiv ur bare hands...) so i'll leave this kind of open ended quantity wise!

gremlins: i'll b real. patti is kind of annoying. like she loves to bully she struggles to take things seriously half the time u dnt kno if she's joking or not. deadpan to the extreme. ur muse perhaps likes to indulge in such wicked jestering n together they're a diabolical nuisance to society esp if hanging out together at parties. wld walk patti into a party in full the nun cosplay despite it not being halloween on their arm like a father giving away their daughter at a wedding. HAS wheelbarrowed patti across campus once so they cld recline smoking in style and vice versa. it's a common understanding. a rabid solidarity. closer acquainted than any sleep paralysis demon. that SAID bc of patti's allergy to forging deep connections since bestie's disappearance mayb we cld play around w this. do they want to kno them more deeply??? do they get exasperated w patti's walls???? do they simply accept patti as they r n not probe deeper?? let's discuss.

cat and mouse: quite literally patti's cat doom hs taken to haunting ur muse by leaving mice on their window ledge even if ur muse is on a floor that doesn't make any logical sense for a cat to be scaling to reach it. it's supernatural. it's ominous. it's inexplicable. it's haunting and u wish it woudl just stop. patti declares their cat innocent of all charges even if the cat's caught red pawed patti simply scoops her up under one arm n walks away ignoring the outcry. in patti's words "it's a gift. it's a love note. ur being so narrow minded".

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twenty-five

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: nothing much! i hope y'all enjoy!

masterlist

‘I can smell them.’ Y/N batted at her hair and clothes as she lurched through the snow, trying not to retch. She couldn’t stop seeing those bodies, the angry red flesh peeking through their burnt black casings like burnt coals. It felt like she was coated in their ashes, in the stink of burning flesh. She couldn’t take a full breath. Not that she deserved to. She wondered how many of those soldiers were at one time under her command. Under her sworn protection and care.

She had made every effort to be a mother or sister figure to the soldiers in the Second Army. That’s how you earn their loyalty, show them you care and they’re valued. And she tried. She tried so hard to make every one of them feel her compassion and empathy while maintaining her power as Lieutenant-General. She tried and it wasn’t enough. Again.

She heard an argument stir in the group behind her but she paid no mind to them until a sudden rumble shook the ground. Y/N turned around and lost her footing, she saw Kaz brace himself with his walking stick. They exchanged puzzled glances.

“Are there fault lines this far north?” Wylan asked.

Matthias frowned. “Not that I know of, but-”

A slab of earth shot up from beneath Matthias’ feet, knocking him to the ground. Another erupted to Y/N’s right, sending her sprawling. All around them, crooked monoliths of earth and ice burst upward, as if the ground were coming to life. A harsh wind whipped at their faces, snow spinning in flurries.

“What the hell is this?” cried Jesper.

“Some kind of earthquake!” shouted Inej.

“No,” said Nina, pointing to a dark spot that seemed to be floating in the sky, unaffected by the howling wind.

“We’re under attack,” Y/N spoke up. She crawled on her hands and knees, seeking some sort of shelter in order to regroup. Her mind raced as she witnessed things never done by Grisha before. There was someone in the air, hovering in the sky high above her. She was watching someone fly.

The only Grisha known to fly was herself.

She had seen Squallers play at tossing each other into the air at the Little Palace, but the level of finesse and power it took to maintain controlled flight was unthinkable– at least it had been, until now. It wasn’t a topic that they taught at the palace. Jurda parem.

Y/N had seen the drug’s effects on a Heartrender but to see it on a Squaller is a whole different field.

The Squaller turned in the air, stirring the storm into a frenzy, sending ice flying until it stung her cheeks. She could barely see. She fell backward as another slab of rock and ice shot from the ground. They were being corraled and pushed closer together to make a single target. She knew they were too high in the air for her flame to reach them.

“I need a distraction!” shouted Jesper from somewhere in the storm.

She heard a tiny plink.

“Get down!” cried Wylan. Y/N flattened her body to the snow. A boom sounded overhead, and an explosion lit the sky just to the right of the Squaller. The winds around them dropped as the Squaller was thrown off course and forced to focus on righting himself. It took the briefest second, but it was enough time for Y/N to throw her hands out to contain the fire from the bomb and direct it to the Squaller while Jesper aimed his rifle and fired.

A shot rang out, and the Squaller was hurtling toward the earth. Another slab of ice slid into place. They were trapped like animals in a pen, ready for slaughter. Jesper aimed between the slabs at a distant stand of trees, and Y/N realized there was another Grisha there, a boy with dark hair. Before Jesper could get a shot, the Grisha rammed a fist upward, and Jesper was thrown off his feet by a shaft of earth. He rolled as he fell and fired from the ground.

The boy in the distance cried out and dropped to one knee, but his arms were still raised, and the ground still rumbled and rocked beneath them.

She saw Inej signal to Kaz. Without a word, he positioned himself against the nearest slab and cupped his hands at his knee. The ground buckled and swayed, but he held steady as she launched herself from the cradle of his fingers in a graceful arc. She vanished over the slab without a sound. A moment later, the ground went still.

“Trust the Wraith,” said Jesper.

The group stood, dazed, the air strangely hushed after the chaos that had come before.

Y/N had already got to work on melting the slab of ice to get them out of there and within a few short moments the bottom collapsed and fell backward. Y/N moved her hands gracefully for the fire to swallow the ice before it hit the ground, melting it so it didn’t make as loud of a sound. Her flames radiated a heat none of them had felt before, enough to warm them all up before they would have to continue their journey.

They found Inej standing over the body of the trembling Grisha. He wore clothes of olive drab, and his eyes were glassy. Blood spilled from the bullet wound in his upper thigh, and a knife jutted from the right side of his chest. Inej must have thrown it when she’d escaped from the enclosure.

Nina knelt beside him.

“I need a little more,” the Grisha mumbled. “Just a little more.” He grabbed at Nina’s hand, and only then did Y/N recognize him.

“Nestor?”

He twitched at the sound of his name, but he didn’t seem to know either of the Grisha women above him. “Nestor, it’s me, Nina.”

Y/N knew the two of them were in school together back at the Little Palace. She had personally sent them to Keramzin together on a mission. He was a Fabrikator, one of the Durast who worked with metal, glass, and fibers. It didn’t make sense. Fabrikators made textiles and weapons. He shouldn’t have been capable of what she’d just witnessed.

“Please,” he begged, his face crumpling. “I need more.”

“Parem?”

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Yes. Please.”

“I can heal your wound, Nestor, if you stay still.”

“I don’t want your help,” he said angrily, trying to push away from her.

“Nina,” Y/N warned while placing her hand on her shoulder.

He stood up, staggering on his wounded leg, pulling at the knife buried in his chest. “Where are they?” he screamed. “Where did they go?”

The rest of the group backed up slightly while Y/N stayed in her place. “Who?”

“The Shu!” he wailed. “Where did they go? Come back!” He took a wobbling step, then another. “Come back!” He fell face forward into the snow. He didn’t move again.

Nina had rushed forward while Y/N stood still and watched in horror. This wasn’t right. Practicing the small science should make a Grisha stronger, never drain them to the point of death. Never. Grisha was never supposed to die like this, let alone a soldier. They were to be honored and held with the highest regard.

Kaz had called them all together to keep hiking but Nina argued that they couldn’t leave the body for the wolves. The two bickered for a moment before Matthias offered to help Nina and make sure they’d catch up with the other five. So the group carried on, trying to shake off the scare of the events a few long moments ago.

They all knew this wasn’t going to be an easy heist. They all signed up for it, some more willing than others. They all had to train their minds to focus back on the bigger goal at hand. Go in, get Bo Yul-Bayur, get out. Alive. All of them.

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy

[aliypop]

Anyplace Is Paradise

Word Count: 1,551

Writers Note: A Little break before I write Chapter 6 Of Anday Now, Sorry It took so long I was editing a podcast

Warning: Language / Fluff

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Summary: It's 1956 And Elvis and Cecelia are Vegas-bound for their concerts, but in between time Cecelia has sparked a love for photography.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

Audubon Drive April 1956

"Cecelia! You're driving like a bat outta hell!" Midge shouted. Cecelia was speeding down Alabama Street in her pink Ford Fairlane Crown Victoria Skyliner. Daphane and Rosa were in the back, sliding around and laughing. "Baby, she's just excited," Cheryl mentioned, 

"About what?" Midge mumbled back to her wife. Cecelia had hit a sharp curve as Midge shook her head, to be 21 and wreckless. 

"Let's see a big two-week show in Vegas..."

"At the same time as Elvis~" Rosa added,

"That's why you agreed to this?!" Daphane rolled her eyes playfully as Cecelia began singing to whatever WHBQ had playing on the radio. "Oh my God...It is..." Daphane reached over and playfully hit her as Cecelia laughed. She and Elvis had been secretly dating for about a year, with her mother on tour with her father. She didn't have to worry about her mother knowing anything. 

"So what if it is. Elvis and I are-"

"Just good friends," Everyone in the car said as they rolled their eyes, 

"Papers are saying y'all are a thing..." Cheryl hinted as Cecelia's cheeks got red. She was silent, "Haven't you seen them oogle at each other," Daphane pretended to gag as Cecelia parked her car next to Elvis's in the open garage. "We don't ogle, we daze." Cecelia got out, walked towards the door, and knocked. Gladys had opened the door, a smile on her face as she hugged Cecelia, 

"Mrs. Gladys!"

"Cece! Come in. Elvis'll be out any minute," Gladys ushered her in. Elvis had had a few flings, but Cecelia was a favorite, 

"Thank you. Did you get the gift I sent you?" She asked as Gladys sat down, "I did, and they're Vernon's favorite pair of earrings on me." She laughed as Cecelia chuckled along with her. 

"I'm pleased you like 'em so much." 

"Alright, Mama, how do I look?" Elvis walked out. As Cecelia was ogling at him. He was wearing one of his lace shirts and slacks. Gladys looked between the two as she shook her head, 

"You look fine,"

"Yes, he is..." Cecelia mumbled, "I mean, does!" Cecelia then stood up as he scooped her into his arms and kissed her, 

"Hey, sugar,"

"Hiya, star shine," Cecelia blushed, 

"You look beautiful." He peppered her face with kisses as she laughed, "Oh Elvis~" a flustered tone from his mouth, "Don't you have to pick up Scotty and Bill..." Vernon said as Elvis pulled away, red as a lobster, 

"Right, right!" Getting his suitcase, Elvis headed out the door holding Cecelia's hand in the other,

"Hey Daph, Rosa! Y'all wanna a ride?" Elvis asked as they looked at Midge and Cheryl, 

"Please, we're all going to the same place!"

"You two can go, but Cece rides with us."

"We aren't going to do anything," Elvis smirked, blinking his baby blues, 

"Presley!"

Elvis and the girls zoomed off as Cheryl smirked at Midge, 

"Now we have some alone time..." 

"I can finally sew without Cece scanning every station for an Elvis song." Midge grinned, 

Cruising to pick up the fellas of the Blue Moon Boys, Rosa, and Daphane were like two kids watching their parents kiss from the back seat, 

Las Vegas April 1956

"We're getting word. A certain Pink Cadillac and Ford have made their way to The New Frontier Hotel." Cecelia laughed, handing a pen to Elvis. In the backseat was a sleepy Scotty, and Daphane was drooling on Bill's shoulder, "Two weeks of paradise..." Elvis smiled,

"Maybe... a trip to the pool will clear your mind?" Cecelia said as he opened the door for her. Cecelia took his hand, and like clockwork, the fans flocked, 

"Denise, Cecelia is gonna be fine..." Midge replied as Cheryl moved their bags into their hotel room, "No, Elvis won't be a problem. Or distraction, they won't even see each other!" Cheryl nearly cackled hearing her wife lie,

Cecelia walked down the hall as Midge stopped her. 

"Your mother called."

"What'd she say?"

"Well, I told her that you didn't even know Elvis was here,"

"So..."

"Don't get pregnant, and don't get caught."Midge smiled,

"So I..."

"Can stay in his hotel room." Midge winked. Cecelia hugged her as she ran off to get settled in, 

"What's that about?" Cheryl asked,

"Oh, Nothing," 

Cecelia had unpacked everything from her suitcase as Elvis was trimming his sideburns and doing his usual pre-show grooming regimen. He was in the mirror, lost in his world until he heard. 

CLICK!

"Cece, what in the hell are you doing?" Elvis laughed, looking directly into the lens of her camera.

"Takin pictures of art." Cecelia laughed as she snapped another photo of him. Elvis couldn't hide his laughter as he tried to act annoyed, but it was also his idea to buy her that thing as a gift. "Last I checked, you can't kiss art." She rolled her eyes as Elvis pulled her in close, dipped her, and kissed her, "You can if it's your muse." She winked. Elvis blushed as he picked her up, "I-I'm your muse?" He blushed as Cecelia nodded, 

"All my love songs are about you." She kissed him again, and he then heard another CLICK!

"Damnit, Cece." He chuckled, tickling her as she laughed. 

The next day, the sun was up and piping hot. Cecelia had just gotten off the phone with her mother as she made her way to the hotel poolside, which was where Elvis was signing autographs in his tied-up shirt, looking as handsome as ever to Cecelia, taking another photo she had soon walked over to him, her heels clicking as she sat by the poolside in her bathing suit. A few fans crowded around her, and Elvis couldn't help but stop and stare at her, "Cat got your tongue, lover boy." Cheryl asked as Elvis blushed, "Wh-What, naw," His accent strong as he was flustered, 

"I believe it does," Cheryl laughed, "You two ain't fooling no one with this whole hiding thing," she whispered before walking away. Cheryl was right, and with Cecelia taking pictures of him, he knew he might as well have his cake and eat it, too. Walking over, Elvis tapped her on the shoulder, some of the guests in shock that he'd even talk to her. While their kids and teenagers already knew the story, 

"I think we should give 'em something to really stare at," Elvis said as Cheryl watched the whole thing happen. She beckoned Midge over, whose blood was boiling like hot pasta sauce, "Like what, Pres..." her brown doe eyes looking up towards his. Pulling her close to him by her chin. He leaned in to give her a kiss until they heard,

SPLASH!

Rosa and Daphane chuckled, seeing the two get out of the pool, sopping wet like a biscuit in gravy. Some of the guests gasped as Cecelia noticed the staff draining the pool. Oh, how it boiled Elvis to the core when people did such things to Cece or, in general, "You'd make more money if you sold the water!" She shouted as Elvis held her back, back in their hotel room after they had both gotten out of the shower. Cecelia was already dressed, her camera back in hand as she took another picture. Elvis glanced up at her as he was a little embarrassed. After all, he was putting on his pants. 

"Cece!" 

"Oh hush, it's not like we didn't just shower together..." Cecelia laughed. Elvis tackled her on the bed and began to tickle her, the two laughing and kissing as he had his hand on her thigh, 

"God, you're beautiful..." Cecelia blushed,

"And you're annoying some- CECE!" He said in a pit of laughter as she tickled his stomach, 

"St-Stop It!"

"Make me~"

"HEY BREAK IT UP YOU TWO!" Midge said. The two looked at her as she shook her head, "You two already broke one rule. Don't break the pregnant one..." she slammed the door, the two irrupting with laughter as Elvis took the camera and pointed it towards them as he took several pictures of them. Even though they were in Vegas to strictly perform, he felt he was on a romantic getaway with his true love. 

On their last night in Vegas, the eight of them were at dinner, eating and carrying on. And there was Cecelia taking pictures of every memory. Sure, a few of her bandmates thought it was annoying. But Midge knew why tomorrow wasn't promised, and youth faded away quickly. Yet here was Cecelia taking every photo she could get of the love of her life, 

"Cece!" Elvis looked at the camera, "Don't you show anyone that one!" He laughed. He had crumbs on his face, and to Cecelia, he never looked more handsome,

~ Bonus ~

"You sure you wanna drive back to Nashville tonight?" Elvis asked as he pulled her close to him by the doorway, "My mother will worry, and I gotta get the girls home." She responded as he sighed, "Alright, you be safe and call me when you get home," He kissed her forehead, 

"I will." She giggled as Elvis felt her slip something in her pocket. It was the photograph of him eating, rolling his eyes. He loved that woman, and he knew that she loved him. 

[trashcanplant]

The Very Model of a Modern Major Beagle

Sally Starlet sat hunched in her room over a sheet of paper. She groaned, crumpling it up and tossing it into the bin. Papers were beginning to pile up.

“Ugh! Why can’t I get this script write? I know I’m no Shakespeare, but I am the brightest, most brilliant playwright in Home!” She cried out in agony, dramatically lounging in her chair. Sally sighed, looking at her new, blank page of paper.

This semi-angry script writing session was fueled by a visit to Poppy’s barn not three hours ago. Sally was bringing her a script to read, and the bird, anxious about starring in another one of Sally’s plays, suggested that she try to write for another one of her neighbors like Frank or Barnaby.

Thus, Sally sat positively simmering at her inability to write. She wouldn’t say she loathed her neighbors, just everything that they did and stood for. How uptight Frank was, and how loosey-goosey Barnaby was. Such stark opposites, and Sally was expected to write a script even those buffoons could do?

She tapped her pen against the page, then started idly doodling Frank in a very fancy, over-the-top hat. An idea came to the stars head, and she grinned.

“Oh, Sally, you brilliantly bright thing, you! You’ve done it again! Now, to put pen to page and let the ink tell this story!” She said grandiosely, beginning to furiously write upon the paper.

Come the next day, Frank was awoke by a feverish phone call from Sally.

“Mmnnnhello..?” They groaned into the speaker, voice still croaking out of its glaze of sleep. He tried to remain semi-quiet as not to disturb the soundly sleeping mass in their bed.

“Franklin! You must get dressed as soon as possible and meet me at my house! Immediately, do you understand?” Sally asked loudly. Frank whined slightly, taking the receiver away from his ear. It was too loud for this.

“Fine, Fine..” they replied. He was definitely awake now. This was going to be a long day for the etymologist.

A similar call awoke Barnaby. His phone rang ceaselessly for much longer though, as the pampered pooch tended to be a heavy sleeper. Finally, after Sally managed to hurl herself through the beagle’s window, he woke up.

“Barnaby!” The star shouted giving his body a jostle. His eyes opened unevenly and rather slowly. One would think Sally had drug a corpse out from the grave. No, she had just awoken Barnaby from a ruff dream.

“Huh? What? Somebody turn off the lights in here, I’m blind in here-“ Barnaby spoke, already cracking jokes as he batted Sally away with a paw. The actress scoffed.

“Barnaby, you need to wake up right now and get dressed! Or else!” Sally threatened, hands on her hips.

“Or else what? Ya won’t put food in my bowl or give me belly rubs or nothin’?” He asked, rolling over in his bed to face away from Sally. She groaned, tapping her foot on the floor. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Or else I’ll write a play saying that apples are bad for your health and show it to Wally!” She said. Barnaby sighed, falling onto the floor on the other side of his bed.

“Fine, Fine. Yer lucky I’m a sucker fer that lil’ guy.” He said, chuckling.

“Yes. Now get dressed and meet me at my house! There’s no time to waste!” She repeated, running out of his house. Barnaby stood there confused. Today was gonna be weird.

Both Frank and Barnaby ended up at Sally’s house at just about the same time. They entered her front garden, only to find her standing on the roof, looking down at them with a grin. From her vantage point, she threw two thick books of paper down to them.

“There! My latest masterpiece! Barnaby, you will be playing the role of Pirate King. Franklin, you will be the general!” She announced. The two men on the ground looked at each other.

“Sally, how are you expecting us to do this? I don’t even know the first thing about war!” Frank said. They shook their head slightly, flipping through the pages only to be pleasantly surprised.

“I am the very model of a modern major general, I’ve information vegetable, animal, mineral… I know the scientific names of beings and emalculas… I can a hum a fugue of which I’ve heard the musics dine fore?” Frank spoke, a little smile on their face. He chuckled, and Barnaby looked down at his paper.

“With a pirate head an’ a pirate heart… somethin’ somethin’ I am a pirate king… oh I am a pirate king. Swinging around.. bein’ silly.. keep movin’.. sword fight. Hmm.. When I sally forth to seek my prey I help myself in a royal way… Must somehow manage to get through more dirty work than ever I do for I am a pirate king. It is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king— woah Sally, you’re really gettin’ the point across. At least I get a sword fight. Frankie here just brags about how smart he is.” Barnaby said with a laugh. Frank’s brow furrowed and they grumbled.

“I know! It’s just like the both of you!” Sally said with a smile. She crossed her arms. Barnaby and Frank exchanged a look. There wasn’t a lot they agreed on, but in this moment it was decidedly so.

“We will not be doing this show, Sally.” Frank said with a smile. Sally paused, looking at them.

“What do you mean you won’t be doing this show?! It’s my best work!” She fumed. Barnaby stepped in, resting an arm on Frank’s perfect hairdo. He grumbled slightly, but kept cool as Barnaby spoke.

“What he said was, we ain’t doin’ yer silly lol’ show, Sal. Ya turned us into our arch-ee-types, an’ that ain’t real nice a ya.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his pipe. He lit it and released a puff as he laughed.

“Besides, there’s no way a little pooch like me would be a pirate king. Or a pirate for that matter! I’ve never stolen once, swear on my mama’s heart.” Barnaby said, crossing himself with his big blue fingers. Sally rolled her eyes.

“But I need someone to play the parts! You must play them, you were made for them!” Sally said. Frank moved Barnaby’s arm off of them.

“No, Sally. We refuse to be reduced down to our core elements! We aren’t caricatures of ourselves like how you’ve written us in the script. We are more than just smart and loud.” Frank said. He was really putting his foot down on this one!

“Yeah, you tell ‘er, Frankie! We ain’t just the whipped cream an’ cherry on top! We’re the whole dang hot dog.” Barnaby said. The sentence made both Frank and Sally pause in disgust and disbelief. Sally shook her head.

“Never the matter! I’ll just have… Julie and Howdy play the parts! There!” Sally said. She stomped her foot down. She was clearly upset.

“Whatever, kid. Just call us when ya start showin’ it. We’d love ta watch.” The comedian says, taking another puff of his pipe and walking away.

Frank stayed behind for a moment. He took a breath then approached Sally.

“Look, we’ve never gotten along. But I am interested in seeing more of what this general has to say. You write very eloquently for someone so loud.” They said. The comment was just nice enough, but Sally was smart.

“I heard that, Franklin. You have 5 seconds before I go telling Poppy what you said.” She grinned. Frank started running towards the barn, and Sally gave chase.

She may not have ended up with actors, but at least she’d made her neighbors smile for a moment and pay attention to her. And in the end, that’s all that really matters.

[marblesarelost]

Tales From the Nightshade Clinic Part 5

Chris looked down at the forms in front of him, his entire face wrinkled up, before holding his head up with his left hand, pen still in his right.  “The hell,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh hello, dear!”  He looked up to see …again, the hell, he wondered.  The little old lady seemed familiar, but he didn’t recognize her right off the bat.  She was smiling at him as if she knew him, though, so he decided to play nice.

“Hi.”

“You are Chris, aren’t you?  I know I’ve seen you in here before, and I know Deena.  Such a sweet girl.”  She stayed about a foot away from his table, just hanging on to her purse in one hand and her coffee cup in the other…and she was old…and she might know something about this bullshit.

“Uh, yeah.  I’m Chris, Deena’s my aunt.  I don’t know that I know you, sorry?”  

“Oh!  Oh, my manners, I’m so sorry.”  She came closer, set her cup on the table and held out her hand.  He stood, like Mom taught him, and shook it gently.  “I’m Mrs. Guzman.  Well!”  She looked down at the papers on the table.  “Oh my.  You’re coming to work at the clinic?”

“Uh.”  He stuttered, looked down himself, and saw the emergency contact card had “Nightshade Clinic” at the top of it.  “I, um, yeah.  Just like, janitorial stuff, but Dr. Hirai and Matt, the nurse, said I could maybe learn some basic stuff too.”  The lady just beamed at him, her smile becoming even brighter and wider as she adjusted her glasses.

“Well this is lovely!  I’m a member of the board that oversees it.  I’m sure you’ll see me, I bring in lunch for the staff every other week or so, and we have a little meeting – but oh.  You might not be there, it’s usually very, very late, and you’re still in school aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m a junior, but it’s almost summer,” he shrugged.  “Figure I can stay later over the summer.”

“Well, we’ll have to see, you know, child labor laws and all of that,” she said.  “But I’m sure we can teach you more than just – what are you being hired for again?”

“I’m supposed to help Bobbi with like, cleaning and manning the front desk and stuff, like getting folks to fill out their paperwork, you know.”

“Well, that might mean handling money or trade, too,” she said, leaning in and dropping her voice a little.  “And some of that trade might be…a little strange, to a young man like you.”

“Oh, Aunt Deena and I go mushroom and herb picking,” he told her.  “And…I mean.  I’ve helped her with some other stuff.”

“Ah.”  Ms. Guzman sipped from her cup.  “The sort of thing the little fluffy bunny wannabes would faint over, I take it.”

“Yeah, probably.”  He remembered the blood spraying over the fire, the way it sizzled.  Remembered the smell of bay and rosebuds.  Remembered the way the moon had sung to him that night.  

She changed the subject, though her smile grew sly.  “So you won’t have any issues, then, if one of our clients brings in…a brace of rabbits, say.  Fresh.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” she nodded.  “Now what were you frowning so hard about when I came up, dear?  I know our applications aren’t that tricky.”

He pushed the tax papers at her, and she giggled.  “No, you’re right.  These are tricksy.  Did you need some help?”

“Please?”

“I would be delighted to walk you through it.”  She started telling him where to put what, and he followed her directions carefully – “You always want to put single if you can, dear, they’ll withhold more, but that means you’ll get something of a windfall next spring.  And if you’ll take an old lady’s advice, do try to save at least five percent of your pay.  Ten is better, but five is usually more doable at your age.”

When they finished, he stacked the papers neatly and put them back in the manila folder they’d come with.  He stood when she did, picked up his bag and held the door for her as they went out into the sunny afternoon.  “Um.  Ms. Guzman?  Can I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she offered, heading for a gorgeous, absolutely fuckin’ beautiful, red convertible.  Classic, he knew that, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the model.

“Why do …why would the clinic have us do taxes, if most folks who work there are…you know.  Different?”

“Oh, dearie.”  She opened her car door, dropped her purse on the seat, and the breeze picked up, blowing hard, but she looked perfectly unruffled, not a hair out of place.  “Listen to me.  The clinic has many, many people who come there and who work there who are, as you say, different.  But the IRS is a monster even the largest wolf, even the bloodiest vampyr, even the eldest of the Sasqui won’t challenge.”  

He couldn’t help laughing at that, and she winked before sliding behind the wheel.  “Have a lovely day, Chris.”

“You, too, ma’am.”  And she was gone in a flash, pretty car pulling out on the road and heading down Harrison Street, leaving him…a little more confident, to be honest.  He grinned, hefted his bag, and headed for home.

[medicus-mortem]

@chatcambrioleur​ asked: "There's a storm coming. Dry lightning." Nami would have preferred a little rain --- the island they were near probably could have used it. A plus, it was always fun to play in the rain.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her head tilting as she took note of the shift in the air. The sky was blue and the clouds were white and as fluffy as the cotton candy their reindeer doctor adored, but she was certain of it. Law was visiting on the Sunny for business, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try to snag him away for a little fun. Even if it was something as simple as spending time with her. "I was thinking I might go to land and find a safe spot to watch." After a little bit of time exploring the town. Maybe a little shopping.

"--- Wanna come?" She posed her question looking up to Law, instead of the sky, with a soft smile and a bat of long lashes.

Unprompted

   He and Nico Robin have been planning an expedition into the depths. The Hearts had located many a sunken poneglyph in their journeys and they have meticulously mapped out all their locations. Law couldn’t read them then, no one on his crew could, but he’s learning now. The Straw Hat archaeologist is happy to teach him what she knows and Law, with his new goal swimming around in his brilliant mind, is an eager student. He’s even picking up the script rather quickly and this bit of history hunting will prove useful for both him and Nico Robin.

   Law is currently supposed to be taking a break from the planning and logistics stage. He managed to come out for some fresh air, deciding to linger near the mikan orchard where Nami is tending to her trees, but that’s where his resting ends. He holds one of his journals in his hand, golden eyes focused on the page and rough map of undersea caverns they have to traverse to get to the poneglyph. Thinking about route, currents, dangers. Everything. As he so often does.

   Nami’s pleasant voice slips into his thoughts, the navigator making a comment about the weather. He grunts around the pen he’s currently chewing as an acknowledgement of her words. Curious, he does glance up from the page to look at the sky. He sees no signs of a storm but Law has long since learned to trust Nami’s instincts. She’s a wonder with the way she seems so in tune with the weather.

   Then comes her chosen adventure for the day, and a question thrown at him. Law lowers his book, turning his gaze to Nami’s. He tenses for a moment when he sees how she’s looking up at him. Soft smile, fluttering of lashes. Trying to butter him up, to manipulate as she does, but is that a hint of genuine hopeful expectation he hears in her voice?

    “Hmmm, dunno,” he says, frowning with his thoughtful hum. “This is a big endeavor. Nico-ya and I got a lot of work to do.”

   As he speaks the doctor turns his gaze to where Robin reclines on the deck, a book in hand and a coffee nearby. She seems content, relaxed. Seems the archaeologist is taking break time seriously.

    He isn’t surprised when Robin turns to look directly at them. A smile is on her lips when she waves a hand at him, a gesture to go and have fun. Their planning can wait a while. He suspects she was listening to them. Robin does seem to enjoy knowing about everything that happens on the Sunny and her flower power is ideal for spying on others or listening in on their conversations. He looks down at that railing and sure enough an ear is sprouting from the wood.

   “Sure, alright,” he says, letting a sigh slip from him and forcing his shoulders to relax. He snaps his journal shut, gaze focusing on Nami. “Maybe you’ll explain to me how the fuck you predict the weather as you do while we’re there.”

[wndrbcy]

♡ "mmmmm fusion, if you can. but ramyeon noodles, so it's faster." he's picking at the toppings, too, ravenous in his search to quell this undying hunger. something is amusing about playing house with alice, more than any of the others. with most, he had to dance on that fine line between too much and too little. he forgot about lovers quickly, left many gardens untended, and lost them to the hands of time. then others—those who stuck around grew pesky when they wanted more of leo. truthfully, this was all he could ever offer, really, which was everything. he was an all-in-all-at-once kind of person, left on e and spiraling towards a keyboard or guitar. this, his final task was to squeeze whatever pulp was left inside our for the masses. truthfully, it'd become a bit taxing over the years, exhausting to drain himself if only for a glimpse of that addictive limelight. alice roared, a holy oceanic feminine entity that replenished leo as much as she took.

♡ "—but i like it when it burns." how could he resist sending things? always trickling in slowly to show that he was on his way back. small things, stupid pointless crap with price tags he hardly batted an eye at. then littered in between, his true heart. a pen, a pick, a postcard from some remote place in the world. he's like a street rat, almost, rummaging through until he finds a prize. leo tears open a pack of ramen, plucking the dried puck out and discarding it on the table before emptying the crumbs down his gullet, crunching down. he'll imagine for a moment that they could be normal people, just fiendin' for some late-night lovin'... but is quickly bored with the thought of not being them. utterly unctuous. it's unclear if he'll have his meal and be on his way, or if he can convince alice to let him stay. he touches now, whenever he can catch her grasp. maybe he's hoping for a slap. sometimes that's all he really needs, fingertips combing through his hair and maybe a gentle pull to yank him away from slumber, "can we share, lady and the tramp style?"

she blames him for all the attention, but he glows and basks within it. he's all caught up in puppy love and showing off, he loves those blurring photos and the hints of someone there, her hand, their drinks on the table, he documents it all, meticulously, to put online. everyone talks and nobody knows and there's ALL THOSE RUMOURS really, that they love to imply and never confirm. his label gives him headaches and he the same, and honestly, she doesn't mind it because it's all fun, right? they come in and overdose and leave off and stitch it all back up together, again, like cats that can't quite help the way that they find themselves home. that's love, she tells him breezily one night when he's tracing songs into her thighs with the tips of his fingers. that's love.

"a gentleman and a scholar~" alice quips in english this time, the words coiling and curling, caught up in unspoken LAUGHTER. she's already in the kitchen, she's making him food, and just like any guy, she's making him dinner knowing that's the poor excuse given for him to show up here in the first place this late. i'm hungry, let me see you. only they skip their meals and opt for bed, or her couch, given he'd come with gifts from his last overseas engagement where she wasn't able to make it. arms wrap around her from behind, she's leaning into it for a brief moment, at peace. she has forever to be terrible later, but she could savour this, guilt free, for now. "i can either make you ramyeon or i can make you geang deang~ you say spicy, but now i can't tell if korean spicy means thai spicy orrrr..."

- @wndrbcy

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 1*

Summary: You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This will be a short series (3-7? parts). The Con Artist Masterlist

6.7k words

Warning: Criminal activity detailed (drugging, stealing, conning), smut (oral sex)

◈ ◈ ◈

The first time you remember stealing anything was when you were about three years old. From what you recall, you were with your mother at a dollar store of some sort. On the bottom shelf in one of the aisles was a pretty mirrored compact. It snapped close with a satisfying click and opened up easily for your three-year-old hands and so you put it into your mother’s purse as she was bringing you out of the store.

Being three years old, though, you forgot all about the mirrored compact when she surprised you with a toy she bought for you. The next day she came across the stolen item and somehow, she knew you’d done it. Because maybe there had been some sort of pattern. You just can’t remember stealing before that day.

But then you started stealing clothes from the mall when you were older. Lip balm (you became fond of the Chanel lip balm in Light but frequently settled for a Lancôme or Clinique as they were usually easier to snatch up), candles (the expensive ones to make it worth your while), pens, and lighters. You stole anything small enough to be taken without anyone noticing.

The only time you ever got caught was when your mom found the mirrored case in her purse when you were three. Even now, 23 years later. Here you are, stealing for a living. The man lying on the bed you are standing next to is knocked out cold. You may or may not have slipped him a little something to send him off to sleepy time before he could take his pants off, but that was the game. He wanted something and so did you.

Yours was a simple grift. Straight men are easy. All you have to do is hang out in really nice clubs and bars near the nice neighborhoods. Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Compliment the man. Compliment him some more. Laugh at his attempt at flirting and play dumb. Definitely laugh at his jokes. Act dumb. Sit alone. Bat your lashes. That kind of bullshit.

The man would need to be rich, or if not rich, showy and cocky (because how fucking annoying is a showy cocky asshole with nothing to actually show for it?). You typically looked for a nice watch (Rolex is easy to spot, but the really expensive watches are Audemars Piguet and Patek Philippe). He’d need to be a little drunk. Or even desperate is fine. Sometimes drunk isn’t necessary. You just need to get him to take you to his home. Never to yours. Married men would suggest a hotel. And that could work too, under the right circumstances. And married men were special because they’d never report you.

Then, once you’re in his house you suggest a nightcap, a drink for your nerves you say (a lie because you don’t drink alcohol) and insist on making them yourself. Drop in enough crushed benzos and voila. The man thinks he’s about to get laid but he falls asleep fast and you steal his cash and his jewelry. And sometimes a few other things you can take with you on your way out the door.

Tonight’s meal is a married man but his wife is out of town. The “house” is in Hope Ranch but it’s more like a mansion. It’s massive and the guy is loaded. That’s all you care about.

You served him a gin and tonic with a lime wedge and 10 mg of crushed-up benzos. You poured yourself a tonic and chucked a lime in for good measure, so it looked like you were drinking too.

He brought you to his room after drinking his glass of nighty-night juice and you could tell it was taking effect. He fell asleep almost too quickly. But who were you to complain? His wallet was lying on the coffee table and his Rolex was an easy snag. You were out the door in less than an hour. He only had about $50 cash in his wallet but the Rolex would be worth around nine thousand dollars for you. You loved the dumbasses with the expensive watches the most. Rolexes are a dime a dozen. They’re the easiest to come by and the easiest to get rid of.

By the time you get back to your little studio, it’s past 3 am. You don’t live in the best part of LA but it’s also not bad. Koreatown has its moments. The supposedly haunted Gaylord Apartments studio has been your home for the last two years. You truly could afford something nicer but it’s hard to imagine paying more than you already do for rent. It’s a waste of money really. You’re living fine and saving your cash. You don’t want to be a thief all your life. Just for long enough to save up so you can go anywhere you want, buy a house for cash, and live out your days as an old maid who never found love. Because love seems like a pipe dream at this point.

Men suck. But then again, you’re not really much of a catch yourself. So ending up alone is probably your true calling. You’ll buy a bunch of books, get a few cats, maybe grow a garden and wear robes all day long. Drink cold juice and watch murder mysteries at night with your cats all curled up around you, and fall asleep on your couch because sleeping alone in your bed just sounds depressing. And maybe you’ll do some traveling. Who knows? You’ve amassed a decent amount of money. You’ve given yourself until 30 and then you’ll call it quits. Just a few more years.

At the Gaylord, you’re not allowed to have pets, but you can have fish. You crouch down to look into your aquarium and see that Buster and Barry are fine. They usually are. They’re pea puffers. Kind of cute really. But Buster killed his first mate, Brenda.  When you introduced Barry, Buster left him alone. Buster and Barry don’t usually interact which is why they get along. You had no idea that puffers could tend to be aggressive but when Brenda was found belly up in the 10-gallon tank one Thursday evening after you’d secured a nice Saint Laurent coat and a Royal Oak Piguet, you were quite disappointed. You’d had such a good night too. The Royal Oak was worth close to $60 thousand. And the coat was just an extra on your way out the door. But poor Brenda. Dead in a day.

You turned off their fish tank light, “Goodnight boys.”

At night, when you were alone in your bed you’d think about the things you’d done. You never really found guilt anytime you thought back. You did feel like what you were doing was wrong, though. You knew that much, you just didn’t feel that bad about any of it, though. You’d made yourself a nice small fortune and you did it doing something you loved. Why did you love stealing from unsuspecting idiot men?

Who knows?

You had a mostly-typical upbringing. Your mom and dad split when you were five and you saw your dad every other weekend like most of your friends with their dads.

Your mom was a good mom. She took care of you. Loved you. Protected you. Encouraged you.

You didn’t have an unusual childhood. Others who had it far worse turned out normal. You had no excuse. No trauma to point at. No mental health problems ran in the family. No vendetta against men. Nothing to prove.

You just liked it. There was a thrill that came with it. And the better you got at it, the more fun it was. And you loathed the idea of working a regular job somewhere earning a living wage. A living wage. What a joke. You were earning like a CEO and not once did you ever have to put out for anyone you didn’t want to. Everything was on your terms.

You could sleep in as late as you wanted. Skip a day of work if you chose, never needing to call anyone to tell them you were taking a sick day. You could do two in one day if you were on a roll. Or you could abandon ship if the man you started chatting up turned out to be someone you could actually see yourself fucking. Because you did draw the line there.

If you started to become interested in the guy, or he was attractive enough, and he invited you back to his place you would have a choice to make. You could stay the course, drug him, and then steal his watch and his money or you could just have a fun night with an attractive man at his place. You wouldn’t steal from someone you’d slept with. You had some moral boundaries.

You were nice, though. You weren’t like a bitch to anyone. But I guess ask any of the men you’d stolen from and they’d have a different mind about that. You had a small handful of friends. You didn’t like letting people get too close, though. For good reason. Because when you got close it became harder to hide your dark secret. People always asked what you did for a living. What an intrusive question to ask anyone. You always made up some lie about working online and inputting data for a medical corporation. Something that pointed to you making just enough money that would explain your nice clothes and expensive purses, but also that would have you home during the day.

Your best friend, Raechel knows your secret. Probably your mom as well. Also, Josh who buys your stolen goods but that’s a different story. But that’s it. In the whole wide world, you have one person that you’ve told directly what you do (again, not counting Josh). Because you couldn’t hide it anymore. And Raechel is still around. She’s your best friend. Now your mom, well, you never told her but she knows. She’s not dumb.

Bright and early the next morning, if you can consider 11:30 am bright and early, you headed to your dealer slash fence man, Josh, after shooting him a message that you were on your way.

You had with you the white dial Rolex Daytona you took off of whatever his name was the night before. Now, this watch is worth about $20,000 but Josh would take a big cut of the profit because he was the one going and selling the stolen item, he needed to make money from the deal too. Plus whoever he sold it to wouldn’t pay him the full $20,000 either, because they also needed to make a profit.

You met him in your usual spot. He took a look at the jewelry and searched for the model reference number to make sure of its value. Then you left with $8,500 in cash and a quarter ounce of Girl Scout Cookies (that’s a nice strain of marijuana bud to clarify).

The bank wouldn’t take big ass deposits like that at a time or there’d be some kind of flag on your account and it would get reported to the IRS (protocol), so you generally would only deposit $3,000 at a time. Which also meant you had a large stash of cash in your apartment at all times. You tried to space out the deposits. Had multiple bank accounts at different banks, and went to different branches in different locations but cash was difficult to work with at times. It was the only part of the job you hated. Dealing with all that cash. Especially when you preferred to save most of it. You usually bought yourself nice things, but most of your money you didn’t touch. You were serious about your future plan of buying a house for cash and getting lots of cats.

Tonight you planned on going to the Warwick again. The last time you were there was six months ago. You’d gotten a big hit with a B-list celebrity and you didn’t want to show your face around there for a while just in case he found you there or anyone recognized you somehow. Six months seemed like a good amount of time to wait.

You stopped at your favorite café and picked up a latte and scone to go. Then you walked to Liberty Park to drink and eat your breakfast slash lunch in the sunshine.

You wondered who would be at the club tonight. The Warwick was usually crawling with celebrities (lots of money). You knew how to handle them all. It really didn’t take much though. Look cute, act dumb. Usually. There were a few times you’d encountered a celebrity or wealthy man who was looking for someone with substance, but that wasn’t what you were going for. You searched for the ones who wanted one fun night and nothing more.

You were sitting on the concrete ledge near the sculpture and sipping your hot latte when a shadow appeared blocking the sun from your body. You looked up to see a tall man looking down at you. Instantly you sat up straight. He was very attractive.

“Hi… I was hoping you could point me in the direction of The Ritz Carlton. I seem to be lost…” he looked at his cell phone and then held its screen to your face and you laughed, placing your latte down next to you.

You stood up and smiled and noticed he didn’t have a watch on his wrist (old habit), “You’re definitely lost. The nearest Ritz is gonna be like a 45-minute walk from here. It’s that way,” you pointed in the direction of the 110, though it couldn’t be seen from where you were.

“Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. I’m new here and went for a walk and found myself enjoying the sun and now here I am. Lost puppy in a big city.”

The man had thick, dark hair, seafoam green eyes with a dark green limbal ring, richly pigmented lips, and a jawline that could cut rock. And he was British. Clearly from out of town.

You held out your hand and introduced yourself and he quickly wrapped his big paw around yours and you saw the tattoo on his wrist. His clothes didn’t indicate that he was well-off. But sometimes it was hard to tell. Some rich guys didn’t give a fuck. This one didn’t. If he was, in fact, wealthy.

“Harry. Nice to meet you. S’hard finding a friendly face in a new city. Do you live here?”

“I do. Not far from here. What are you in town for, Harry?” You asked, keeping eye contact. You didn’t know if you should size him up for a job or see if you could get him to take you back to his hotel for a fuck. This guy looked like he could fuck. Tall and broad, deep voice, and big hands. A dimpled smile.

“Ahh, just work. Plan to be here for about a month. Staying at The Ritz off Olympic while I’m in town,” he smirked at you and that was all you needed to hear to know he was interested. Yeah, you’d fuck him.

“Is that so? For a month huh? Here, let me give you my number, ya know, in case you need anyone to show you around. A friendly face like you said…” you gestured toward his phone so you could put your number in and he unlocked it and opened up his messages app.

You were bold. You had no problem picking up a guy to fuck. You just needed to be somewhat straightforward. Your jobs were different. Playing coy was the game when they wanted to feel like they were in charge. But when it came to actually fucking someone, you were in charge and you wanted them to know it.

“Seems quite forward to give your number to a complete stranger, Y/n,” he spoke your name, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the most sensual way. That mouth of his could do some damage. You swallowed.

You laughed and shrugged, “Not really. It’s just a number. Now, what you do with it is up to you. If you’re bold, you’ll use it.”

Harry grinned at you and the way you nearly let your knees buckle when you saw his dimples was not a normal reaction. But Harry was gorgeous. You'd let him fuck you if he was into it. Absolutely. This man could get it from the top to the bottom. He was well-muscled and sturdy under his clothes. Something told you he’d have a big dick too and you’d love to let him use it on you.

You shook yourself of your thoughts and Harry cleared his throat, “Well, thank you. I’ll certainly consider calling you,” he lifted his cell phone upward as he spoke.

You were a little disappointed by his remark. Consider calling you? What the fuck? Maybe he wasn’t straight. Would explain why you found him attractive. All the hot ones were some shade of gay. But he was flirting with you... Wasn’t he?

Harry waved as he walked off and you sat back down to finish your latte and dry scone.

◈ ◈ ◈

You got yourself dolled up and tried to erase the way you were feeling annoyed that Harry hadn’t messaged you or called you. You gave him your number. You were rarely rejected. Unless he was gay… You laughed at yourself as you sprayed your hair to hold the style and then looked at your phone again. It was 9 pm. The perfect time to show up at the Warwick. It was time to work.

You were let in with no problem, despite the long line to get in. No cover for you. You got yourself a soda water with lemon and sauntered around the perimeter. Lots of groups tonight. Some of the guys watched you walk by. But you were specific. Precise about the men you worked. The young ones in the groups were probably spending more than they could afford to be there. Not your type. You moved along the lower room until you spotted a group of men sitting together. Now, these guys were job material. Men with money.

You neared them slowly, sipping your soda water until one of them looked up and saw you. You smiled at him and kept walking until you found a place to sit where you could be in the sight line of the man with whom you smiled. He had his eyes on you alright.

You’d give it ten minutes before heading their way. Just to see if he’d come to you first. Just to see if he was into feeling like he had the upper hand. Sometimes older men preferred more traditional roles and liked to be the aggressor. Oh, little did they know…

You swung your left leg over your right one, letting your dress ride up your thigh so he could see what you were working with. You smiled at him again and then looked away, pretending to be caught in the act.

But then suddenly someone sat down next to you, catching you off guard. You jerked your neck toward the intruder (this was not uncommon), ready to tell him to buzz off when you were met with the warm smile of the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your look of disdain quickly turned to one of excitement and you couldn’t help the smile that crawled over your face at the sight of Harry. He was in a suit; his hair was styled just so with a thick curl falling over his forehead. He had rings on his fingers and he looked like he’d been drinking a little with dazed-out eyes on yours.

“Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his gaze dropped down to your dress and your thigh and then back up to your face.

You mimicked his display, dragging your eyes down his frame and back up to his handsome face, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out. Felt like a good night to have some fun.”

The man you’d scoped, was long forgotten as you and Harry began to chat. He was alone at Warwick. Like you. And he was hot. He was clearly a bit tipsy with the way he was so loose with touching your arm and your hand, the way he’d pause his eyes at your lips as you spoke.

The thing that really got you worked up was how he’d lean in to speak into your ear so you could hear him. It was necessary to do because the club was so loud, but you fucking loved having him so close you could smell him and feel his voice vibrating off your ear.

“You look amazing,” he said as he plucked at the hem of your short dress, his fingers brushing against the skin on your thigh as he did so. Probably on purpose. Definitely on purpose.

You decided he’d be worth the work raincheck. You’d let him fuck you. And it seemed like that’s just what he wanted when his eyes settled on yours and he looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked. You were a-okay with abandoning ship for a hot night with Harry. Work could wait. This man before you, flirting with you and watching your lips as you spoke was ripe for the taking. You didn’t want to miss the chance to try him out in the sack.

Just like he said, the taxi stopped at The Ritz-Carlton on Olympic and he took you up to his room. In the taxi on the way to his hotel, he scooped his arm behind your back and pulled you into his side, brushed your hair from your neck, and put his mouth next to your ear, “You sure you want to do this?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Yeah, that happened. That never happens. Not to you. You were the one making men’s breath hitch. But Harry had some kind of natural charm about him that matched your own energy. A panty-dropper. But it helped that he was so goddamn fine with a deep British accent and dazzling eyes.

The room didn’t appear to have been slept in, but that’s probably due to the strict housekeeping staff taking care to clean up behind their guests.

You kicked your heels off near the door and Harry walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front. He kissed your neck first. You were admittedly caught off guard by his energy. He was quite forward and confident.

You leaned your head to the side and smiled when you felt him in your back, poking you with what you knew was going to be a big cock. He was already very turned on.

You turned in his arms to face him and slid your hands up to his shoulders and kept your eyes on his, “I don’t usually do things like this…” you spoke innocently.

Harry tilted his head to the side and smirked. The look on his face said he didn’t believe you, “Me neither.” You certainly didn’t believe him.

You lifted yourself upward on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. You had had enough of the back and forth. It was time to get down to it. Harry’s cock was hard and your panties were wet. That’s all that was necessary at that moment. Talk could wait.

Harry gripped your waist and walked you backward to his bed with his mouth attached to yours. You let go of his shoulders and slid yourself back onto the bed as he crawled after you. You grabbed his collar and pulled him down to you, lips locking together in haste.

Putting your leg over his hip you bucked yourself upward to feel his hard-on under his pants and you moaned at the bulk of him.

“Get your pants off, Harry,” you cooed as you palmed over him. Harry sat back and removed his shirt and there was nothing in you that was disappointed by what you saw. More dark tattoos covering his chest and his arms. His body was masculine and sculpted exactly to your preference. Firm with smooth skin and a smattering of hair at his pecs and under his belly button.

You moved your arms behind your back and unzipped your dress and let it fall down your arms. You were wearing a special bra that was sticky on your breasts, which you’d forgotten about until that moment. It was difficult to remove in one quick go because the sticky inside was super sticky so it stayed put. You sat up and turned away from him as he began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

Pulling the bra away from your skin slowly you looked over your shoulder and Harry was looking at you with his brows scrunched in confusion. You laughed and when you’d removed the bra lifted it upward so he could see, “It’s a sticky bra and it’s awkward to take off. Didn’t want you to see it coming off. It’s less magical that way.”

Harry spit out a laugh as he visually inspected the bra and he nodded, “Okay. If you say so,” taking the bra from your hand and tossing it on the bed. Harry was only in black briefs when he put his hands up to cup your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. He pushed you back into the bed with his lips smoothing against yours and he settled himself in between your legs. You were left in only your nude thong. Harry’s briefs-covered cock was pressed right over your pussy. He was thick. You knew he was something special down there. He rocked down over you and licked into your mouth. His solid arms kept his torso held up while his hips were pressed down over you.

You bent your right leg at the knee and spread a bit for him to access you better and he moaned.

“You’re getting me wet even through your underwear. Need something, Y/n?” His cocky smirk was warranted. You hated a cocky man but Harry had every reason to be. He was delectable.

“I need you, Harry. S’why I’m here right now,” you spoke in your sultriest voice and licked at the seam of his lips. Harry brought his mouth down slowly, his warm lips pecking and licking a cherished path down toward your breasts. He palmed and sucked at them. You arched your back and panted. He wasn’t going easy on your nipples as he pulled each into his mouth and swirled his tongue around your areola. His nips caused you to moan loudly into the room.

He moved his head further down and you knew what was coming. But in all honesty, you hadn’t shaved in a while. You were full-on bush down there. You didn’t expect to be getting laid tonight. You were on a job when you saw Harry at the club. You got all dolled up, shaved your legs, and did what needed to be done. But no more than what was necessary.

When he got to your hips you braced yourself for him to see your pussy in its natural state. He put his fingers into the band at your hips and looked up at you as he slid them down slowly. You craned your neck up to see what his expression was when he finally took you in.

He saw your bush. You saw him pause at your pussy but he continued dragging your panties downward. You held your breath when he put himself back between your legs and lowered his face to your inner thigh, planting a hot kiss very close to the curve of where your ass and your cunt met.

“Can I?” He looked up at you, his mouth parted in lust. You weren’t going to say no to head. If he wanted to get down there with your wild garden of desire and wrap his mouth around your clit you’d let him.

“Yes,” you smiled but felt yourself blush a little at the idea of being munched on while you’re pussy-scaping was nonexistent.

But he didn’t seem to care at all. He put his lips over your mound and went to town. Like all the way into town and back home again, then back to the strip so he could have dinner and seconds. He found all the parts that needed to be found under your pubic hair. You settled yourself back into the pillow and relaxed. Harry was a man who liked pussy clearly. He wasn’t deterred by the bush one bit.

Your clit was being given sufficient attention when he began to use his fingers in your crease, softly stroking you up and down until he placed his middle finger right at your hole. He prodded it in a bit and you looked down at him between your thighs. He had his eyes closed, his tongue lapping at you then you watched as his lips found your clit and he pulled at it, sucking you into his mouth and you gasped. He was good. This man was hot and he was good at giving head?

“Fuck, Harry! Right there…” you moaned your words, needing to let him know to keep up with what he was doing. He was going to get you off fast this way.

Harry moaned into your pussy and opened his eyes when he heard you and he nuzzled in further, shaking his head left to right quickly and slurping your clit just as he inserted a second finger. You felt it go in. Harry’s fingers were long and he was getting the job done nicely.

You arched your back at the distinct feeling of heat traveling from your groin outward. You slid one of your hands down and placed your fingers into his thick hair. Something you’d wanted to do since you first saw him earlier in the day. You just had no idea it would be happening while he was expertly eating you out in his hotel room at the Ritz.

You bucked upward toward him and panted, “I’m gonna come, Harry… please….” Your voice was shaky and your orgasm was beginning to blossom. Harry was making a mess of his face with your arousal as he dug in further, one hand holding you down while his other kept his fingers stroking your walls just like you needed.

The snap fuzzed up your hearing for a moment. Your ears rang as you came in his mouth, your body stiffening and jolting with each stroke of his tongue. You were sure you were speaking but your mouth and your brain didn’t meet up as you quivered under the man who was lapping at your pussy like there was no hair in the way.

You opened your eyes when Harry kissed both sides of your hips and sat back. He looked down at you with a grin as your chest was rising and falling quickly, “Holy shit. That was the fastest I’ve ever come from… that.”

Harry chuckled and got off the bed. He walked toward the dresser and you could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his dark briefs. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of water and brought them to the bed. Pouring a glass for himself and for you. He sat down next to you as you sat up and handed you the glass, which you happily guzzled down. Harry did the same. You hoped he wasn’t washing away the taste of your hairy pussy. That would be embarrassing.

“Sorry. About the lack of trimming. I really didn’t expect to show anyone the goods tonight,” you laughed. It was so ridiculous for you to be apologizing for that. It was natural for most women to have hair on their crotch. Just like it was for men. You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. Maybe it was because Harry was so incredibly attractive.

Harry’s brows pinched together and he frowned, “Really? I mean, I don’t care about the hair, but you weren’t thinking you were gonna laid tonight? Looking like that?”

You shook your head, “No. Truly.”

“Well, you have a beautiful pussy. I doubt anyone would ever kick you out of bed for going au natural. Doesn’t bother me.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to brush the back of your hand over his cock, “What about you? Do your trim?” You smirked.

Harry laughed through his nose and took your glass, placing his and yours on the side table before covering your hand with his and pressing your palm down on his lengthy cock. He brought his other hand up to you, his fingers at your neck and thumb over your cheek when he leaned in to kiss you.

When he backed away from the kiss he looked down to where he had your palm pressed over him, “Why don’t you check.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief but smiled and took the top band of his underwear in your hands and pulled at it, lowering the material and seeing the smattering of hair at his low stomach turn into a darker, thatch before his cock sprung out. The cock was a total distraction. You had forgotten all about the hair when you saw his large organ standing out.

Harry lifted his hips and helped you pull his underwear down. He was certainly nicely built. That was for sure.

You smiled at him and then looked back down at the masterpiece between his legs and leaned in to kiss the tip. Harry moved back, putting his arms behind him to give you space to worship him.

You heard him inhale a sharp breath when your lips came into contact with the tip of his crown and then you looked up at him, “May I?”

Harry nodded quickly and you stuck your tongue out to lick him up and down. You had a lot of area to cover with his penis but you managed to lick him from base to tip all around. He was very hard in your hand. Heavy and thick. You stuck your tongue softly into the slit at his head and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and his mouth parted.

Just as you wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue over his frenulum he jolted his hips and gasped, “Wait, god… hold on…” his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you off.

You looked up at him and then sat back, causing his hand to fall away from your neck.

“I’m not going to assume you wanted to have sex, but I kind of wanted to,” he kept his dark eyes on you.

You hated giving blow jobs if you were honest and Harry’s cock was going to cause some damage to your tonsils you could already tell. That monster might not even fit quite well enough for you to really get the job done anyway.

“So, you don’t want a blow job?” You queried, just to be sure.

“I love a good blow job, but…” he looked down and laughed as he shook his head and then set his eyes back on yours with a goofy grin, “this,” he gestured toward his crotch, “tends to take a little training. Not the easiest man to suck off.”

You raised your brows and scoffed, “So, you’re saying that you think your cock is so fat that I’d have trouble taking it down my throat and you’re giving me an easy out and offering to fuck me with that instead of choking me with it?”

Harry barked out a laugh and nodded, “Well, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Thank God, because that thing is quite daunting. Would rather have it in my vagina than my throat, so thank you for that,” you couldn’t believe this man, but he wasn’t wrong. In all honesty, he probably got used to this spiel. It kind of sounded like he’d said it all before.

“So you do want to have sex?” Harry repeated to be sure.

You rolled your eyes and climbed over his thighs, pushing at his chest to bring his back down to the mattress. You straddled his hips and put your unshaven pussy over his cock and then kissed him as your answer. You rolled your hips up and down and Harry grabbed your ass and guided you up and down along his shaft.

There was a lot of girth to rub yourself on with him so your clit was being pressed into on each stroke. Harry moaned into your mouth and pressed you down harder over him as he rocked upward, pressing himself between your slick folds.

“Come on…” he breathed out, “I’ve got a condom,” he said and nudged you up. You stayed in his lap as he leaned over and pulled out a condom from the side table. You found it interesting that he had a condom there being that this was a hotel room. You knew the pattern of men staying in hotels.

Condoms would typically be kept in the luggage or a wallet. Unless the man was expecting company… But you decided to let it go. So what if he was expecting company? Maybe he planned on getting lucky tonight when he went out and thought ahead by putting condoms conveniently in the side table (which is odd for a man to think ahead like that). A woman, now she would think ahead and put condoms in the side table because women think about things like that. Men don’t. Not normally. It’s not a big deal, but it’s also out of character for a man staying in a hotel that he only very recently checked into.

“You okay?” Harry asked you, making you realize you were stuck in your head a bit.

“Oh… yeah. I’m totally good,” you nodded feeling a bit like you were missing something important. Like you were being forewarned of something by the tiny revelation you just had.

You took a breath and tried to push the sudden inexplicable feeling you had down. You wanted him to fuck you. Of course, you did. But what was that feeling you were getting? This sense that something was off? You knew to trust your senses. You had a good read on people and something was not quite right. And you saw him twice in one day? In LA of all places? A strange man from out of town? Yeah… something was off.

You put your hands on Harry’s shoulders and frowned, “I’m… sorry…” you pinched your brows together as you slid off of his lap, “I think I should go.”

Part 2

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