#green pillbox hat

[poppingmary]

Brunette Doris Day in “It’s a Great Feeling” - 1949

Costumes by Milo Anderson

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Miss

Written for @hinnymicrofic December 2023 - Prompt 3

So - after chatting on Discord about a Muggle AU story I’m (maybe) writing, I woke up with this in my head. Did I look for a prompt that I could somehow vaguely attach it to? Yes. Yes I did.

Rating - Teen and Upwards, for a bit of bad language and some slightly racy content.

It was late evening, and Harry Potter, Private Investigator, was in his office. His suit, once sharply tailored, was rumpled and threadbare, his appearance made respectable only by his polished boots and fedora hat. The only source of light was from the brass lamp on the battered desk in front of him, the one with the cracked, green glass shade, casting shadows across the peeling wallpaper. A dented filing cabinet and an elderly coat stand occupied opposite corners, somehow making the room feel even emptier and more down at heel.

Potter could have gone home, but what for? Just swapping one empty room for another didn’t appeal to him. Besides, instincts honed over years as an investigator told him that now wasn’t the moment to leave. He poured himself a shot of cheap whiskey from the bottle he kept in the drawer, and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk, waiting. 

Sure enough, in the distance, he heard the sound of heels clacking against the tiled corridor outside, drawing ever closer. Moments later he saw her, just the outline of a dame through the frosted glass. She hesitated outside, looking left then right, checking that she was unobserved, before raising her hand to knock. 

“Come in,” he called.

Potter stood, as the dame opened the door and slid into the room, his eyebrows raising a little, because she was an absolute knock-out. Her red hair fell in perfect waves down the side of her face, where wide, wanton eyes blazed brown above cherry painted lips. She wore a pillbox hat, and a trench coat belted at the waist hinted at a bombshell figure hidden below.

“Are you Harry Potter? The private detective?” she asked, her voice low and breathy.

He shrugged, playing it cool. “That’s what it says on the door. How can I help you, Miss…?

She dropped her chin and looked up at him seductively, lips curling into a smile. “Weasley. Ginevra Weasley.”

Potter moved around the side of the desk and approached her. “Let me take your coat, Miss Weasley,”

Obediently, she slipped out of the coat and handed it to him, and he tried not to stare when the dress below was revealed, cut demurely but clinging to every curve of her body as sinfully as anything he’d ever seen. 

The dame turned and leaned back against his desk, her palms spread to either side of her and her hips turned to the side, ankles crossed, looking like a goddamn oil painting. She fixed Potter with those alluring brown eyes again. “I need your help, Detective. I believe I’m in danger,” she announced, dramatically.

Potter moved a little closer to her, intrigued. “Danger, you say? What… kind of danger?”

“Yes! I’m being threatened! Followed!” The dame lifted her hand to her chest dramatically, tilting her chin upwards, showing him a long expanse of pale throat. “I’m scared for my life, detective! Can you… protect me?” She turned her face towards him, her expression beseeching and her scarlet lips parted.

Potter took a step towards her. “Well, Miss Weasley. I’m afraid that protection isn’t normally part of the services I offer.”

“But, you’re the best, Mr Potter!” she protested. “Everyone knows that. Name your price!”

Now Potter was standing right in front of her, towering over her. His pulse quickened. “I don’t think you’re ready to pay it, Miss Weasley,” he growled.

She gazed up at him, defiant, pupils dilated, perfect breasts heaving with her rapid breathing. “Oh, Mr Potter,” she whispered, raising her hand and placing it softly against his chest. “I assure you that I am.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, frozen in time. Then unable to hold back any longer, he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her up towards him. Their lips met in a kiss that was urgent and messy, filled with hunger and need, mouths open, tongues connecting.

Potter pushed the dame back against his desk, and she curled her stockinged leg around behind his calf as he ran his hand up her thigh. She, in turn, pulled at the waistband of his trousers, untucking his shirt, letting her fingers trail across the taut skin of his abdomen, the muscles tingling at her cool touch. 

Just at that moment, the door burst open. Potter and the dame sprang apart as a tall, red-headed man strolled in. 

“What the fuck are you doing here Ron?” demanded Harry, blushing furiously, attempting to tuck himself back in as quickly as possible.

“Oh!” exclaimed Ron, looking surprised. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here at this time of night. We’ve been out for dinner, and Hermione thought she must have left her umbrella in here when she was down here to review the case prep earlier so I said I’d pop in and grab for her.”

“Merlin, Ron! You had to pick tonight to be helpful?” asked Ginny, tugging the hem of her dress back down.

“Ginny! You’re here too?” Ron greeted her cheerfully. “But… why would you be here, at this time of night?” Slowly, he looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time, appearing confused. “What the fuck have you done to your office, Harry? Have you transfigured it? And… why are you dressed like that?” Then a horrible realisation seemed to creep across Ron’s face. “Oh fucking hell - is this… did I just walk into some sort of sex game?”

Harry couldn’t meet his eyes. “Erm…”

“No!” spat Ron. “Forget I asked - I do not want to know! I am leaving now, and we are never mentioning this again.”

“Er, Ron?” said Harry, as Ron turned to leave. Ron glanced back, and Harry sheepishly handed him the errant umbrella. Ron snatched it from his hand and scuttled out.

Utterly mortified, Harry looked to where his wife was still sitting on his desk, to find that her eyes were dancing with amusement. She burst out into a peel of giggles as he glowered at her. 

“Well I’m glad you find it amusing,” he muttered, raising his wand. “Finite!”

Harry’s office blurred a little around them, and then was suddenly returned to the much more familiar, and far less scruffy, office the Head Auror usually inhabited.

“Oh, relax, Harry. You don’t want to pick up where we left off?” she asked him, sounding disappointed.

“I think your brother might have killed the mood a little,” he told her, wryly.

“Oh. That’s a shame,” she pouted, looking down at the floor. Then she straightened her back, crossed her legs and shot him a look filled with some much fire that he inhaled sharply. “It’s just that my house is in a rough neighbourhood,” she told him, her voice soft and breathy again, “and I thought that maybe Potter P.I. could escort me home and check that there aren’t any bad guys lying in wait for me?”

Harry couldn’t help smirking at her. His wife really was both incorrigible, and irresistible. He retrieved her trench coat from the (now much less shabby) rack by the door and handed it to her. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess I could help out. You know me - I never could resist a dame in distress.”

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

Black and White October

Funny Face / Kay Thompson as Maggie Prescott

The big joke of the "Think Pink" number is that Maggie pitches the idea in this black-and-white suit, and while everything around her gets pinker and pinker, she continues to dress in black, white, and grey. When someone finally asks her about it, she says, dismissively, "Oh, I couldn't be bothered."

As I look more closely at the screencaps, I wonder if the suit might actually be midnight blue, but since that was billed as "blacker than black," I think it counts for the theme.

She wears the suit in two different scenes, with what appear to be two different white shirts. One of them has an added scarf or a scarf-collar, which is fastened with a statement brooch in green and red. The jacket has three-quarter-length sleeves, which allow for the long white gloves. I also like the pillbox hat and the T-strap shoes.

[henriediosa]

there she is. chicago's most fucked-up tradwife. my vampire: the masquerade player character, lulee spencer/butler/porter née sargent! she's a toreador who loves baking and dancing, and she's just really excited to be married again. she just likes being a wife. it's totally not because she needs protection before the vampire government finds out about her two human children. i wrote lulee's backstory and it's up on ao3 (please read the tags for content notes):

alt text in the image description and under the cut.

(1) a watercolour and digital portrait of lulee, from the waist up. she has the appearance of a young white woman with red hair in big curls. she is wearing dark red lipstick, pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, and a black dress with a square neckline and short sleeves. the dress is painted so it blends in with the black and grey background, which also has a dark vignette. she has an uncertain smile. (2) four simple drawings of lulee, like paper dolls, wearing different outfits, labelled in cursive. "interview & escape": a black pillbox hat, a mint green tea-length dress, a light brown cardigan with cardigan clips, a small black purse, and black pumps. "night out": the pillbox hat, white pearl earrings and necklace, a black tea-length dress with a white belt, white gloves, and black mary janes. "yes, chef!": a hairnet, the white pearls, the mint dress, and a frilly pink apron with a heart on it. she's holding a dark green muffin tin. "wedding 1952": a white floor-length gown with long, lacy sleeves; a large bouquet of black roses; long white gloves; a white crown and a veil. ID ends.

[askthechronoverse]

The last of four short stories I have written for supplemental purposes. Takes place after everything else I've written so far.

The clicking of a keyboard was the only sound that could be heard in the sterile and clinical lab. A lone figure was the source of the oddly melodic sounds, her paws orange barely visible and her expression stern and focused. Her tail swayed to the rhythm of her typing as she made music with her large computer. Her music was visual, displayed on the monitor as various graphs, charts, and figures. Most of it would make no sense to a passerby, save for the images of two people. One was a man with wild dark brown hair who's eyes reflected a deep, almost spiritual tiredness. The other had dark grey hair that was adorned with a simple grey pillbox hat. His expression was neutral, almost bland. The fox tapped a mouse with an impatient paw, clicking into a diagnostic screen for a Project Daffodil. She clicked her tongue as she went over the diagnostics, a smirk slowly sliding onto her face. It was working. She should have guessed it would: doing this kind of task was just a normal occurrence for a scientific mind like hers.

She took her paw off of her mouse and sauntered to a small, nearby capsule. The capsule was smooth and black, several different kinds of tubes and wires making it look like a baby kraken in the dim light. The fox tapped the glass with her paw, the blackness parting to reveal something moving in water. She shook her head, ear twitching at the rapid movement. It was almost time, but her special project had to be patient for just a little longer. Perfection takes time, after all. She shuffled over to the console again and grabbed a jar. The jar had only two objects in it: a dim grey heart and a bright green heart. Both seemed to glow softly, ebbing in time with each other. She watched this dance for a moment, smiling at how coordinated it all was.

She looked back at the capsule, seeing the movement once again. The end was near. She could take her time with this, however. She had so much to prepare first, so much to do before the time finally came.

A soft hum made the fox sigh. She glanced back at the two hearts. The memory of gathering the samples was vivid as she looked back. They were symbols of pure love, created when the two men on her large monitor kissed for the first time as a married couple. She had been studying what she can do with these totems for a long time and this was the best thing she could think of doing. Grabbing the jar, the fox headed once more to the capsule, opening a small hatch. She carefully put both hearts into the hatch, closing it quickly.

Now to wait, the worst part of the process. She went back to the monitor and watched the screen. After what felt like an eternity, an alert flashed on her screen. The end was here. She typed some commands in the keyboard and rushed to the capsule, which was already open on her approach. A long cry cut through the evening air, coming from a bundle wrapped in soft, blue fabric with yellow stars creating a cartoony nebula in the open container. The fox peeked in to see the result of her careful testing.

"Success," was all she uttered as she picked up the noisy bundle. "Now. Normally I would dispose of you, but you are special." The fox bounced, the noise stopping in due time. "Let's not wake the castle. We'll go for a walk." She held the bundle in her arms and shuffled out the door, a small square robot following behind her.

The fox passed through the town, which was clearly getting ready for Halloween. Posters advertised a costume party for Halloween night. Leaves playfully circled her feet as she walked toward the woods, the smell of nature in fall making her nose crinkle. Nature. She wasn't a fan of nature. Why did they have to live so far into the woods? Oh well. It didn't matter, she supposed. She wasn't going to be there long. She'd just have to distract herself with mathematical equations and calculations for her next major experiment.

While the fox made her trek, the man with tired eyes was busy in the kitchen. He whistled a song he'd thought he'd forgotten as he mixed a white, creamy liquid in a pot.

"Hey, babe? We goin' to the party? I know ya gotta go, but are we goin'?" He grabbed a cutting board and waited for a reply. He soon got one from the grey haired man, who floated over to the maplewood bar and watched the other work.

"I would love nothing more than for you to go, my beloved. We could do a themed costume, if it isn't too late for that." His bright smile was the most expression he was giving, as his voice gave nothing in that department. "Would it be too late to attempt that?"

"Nah, it's never too late to beat Brock and Frown for the best couple costume award. They were stiff competition last year, but we just needta be clever ta beat them. Ya got something' in mind?" As Rex spoke, he began to chop some carrots and potatoes.

"We could dress up as the characters from that movie I showed you the other day. I'm surprised you stayed awake until the end. I know you prefer action films to period pieces." Richard floated behind his boyfriend, willing his feet to touch the wood flooring. Rex turned around and leaned down to kiss him softly.

"I almost did, babe. But, we can do that. Am I gonna be Lady Pemblebrick or Lord Bricklebottom? I should have time to grab some very period accurate pieces after work tomorrow." He turned back to the pot, adding some herbs to the stew.

"You know I look better in a corset, but you have her passion and hair type. If we want to win, you will need to tame that cowlick of yours, but if I'm Lord Bricklebottom, we can easily win." There was a twinkle in Richard's eye as he spoke, his voice still monotone. He floated to the counter, perching there with crossed legs.

"I find it hard to say no to you, babe. I'll even wear the heels. We gotta win this year. It's gettin' embarrassing to get beaten by those two!"

A loud knock from the front door crashed through the banter, Richard sighing softly as he floated toward the door to open it. Just before he reached the door, it swung open with sizable force. This startled both occupants of the cabin, a green exclamation mark appearing over Rex's head.

"Oh! Doctor Fox! Did you walk all this way? It's supposed to start raining soon." Richard saw that Doctor Fox and the robot were already wet and the rain was coming down heavily. "Come in. You'll get a cold."

"It's not me you should be worrying about." The words ominously hung in the air as she entered the cabin, the bundle she held close to her chest starting to stir.

"Who else would we worry about, Doc? The robot?" Rex went back to the pot on the stove. "We should have enough stew for ya if ya wanna stay a while." Doctor Fox sat at the counter, Richard once again perching on it.

"I was just planning on dropping something off and leaving." She put the bundle down on the counter and started to leave. She didn't get far before Richard picked it up and unwrapped it to reveal a round little face, dark eyes staring up at him with a blank calmness. His heart stopped as he stared back at the thing. He whistled for Rex to turn around, which he did. He walked over to his husband and was handed the bundl with shaking hands.

"What... what is..." Richard spoke breathlessly. "Why us?"

"It's a girl and she's yours, genetically speaking. I wanted to see if your DNA would be compatible, since you still have traces of your brickness and Rex is something else altogether. It worked." She looked at the couple for a sign of a possible compliment, but all she got was a shaking Richard and a Rex on the verge of tears. "You could thank me or something, guys."

"... Our daughter? This is our daughter?" Rex swallowed, eyes solely on the little girl. She made fussy little sounds, squirming a little.

"Doctor Fox, you should have said something first. We don't have room in this cabin for a third person and we both work. One of us will need to take time off to take care of her until she is out of infant-" Richard looked around and saw that Doctor Fox had left. He shook his head. "Rex, what are we going to do?"

"Rich. We can do this. I can renovate the cabin and I can afford to take time off." Rex held the child close to him, almost afraid she was going to vanish if he let go.

"Rex. You just got the Royal Chrononauts off the ground and financially viable a year ago. You can't afford to lose that momentum." Richard urged, worry and fear framing the monotone in his voice.

"You and I both know ya ain't gonna be the one to stop working for that long. I can afford it. Besides, the one picking up my slack would be the exact person who put us in this... amazing position." The tears continued to flow as Rex walked to the couch and grabbed a clean blanket and rewrapped the baby in it. "We get back at her for throwing this on us, I finally get time off work that isn't for some science talk or to visit Emmet and we get to... to start a family." Rex moved back to his husband, who had taken the stew off the burner.

"...You know, you can tell she's our little girl. She has your eyes." Richard floated by Rex's side, watching the little girl fuss in her tight wrappings.

“Well yeah. She has one of your eyes too. Two different colors.” Rex chuckled as he loosened the blanket a little for her. 

 "If you're ready, I'll be as well.” Richard whispered. “I do recall that Lady Pemblebrick and Lord Bricklebottom had a child at the end of the novel the film was based on. We may have to just compete for best group costume this year.

[royalhouseofcarrington]

The Style Evolution of Queen Elissa of Carrington (King's Day Edition Part 2)

See Part 1, her Crown Princess looks, here!

Now a mom of four, Elissa wore a plum skirt-suit and matching hat to King's Day as she rode in the carriage for her first year as Queen, with the white bow in her hat perfectly coordinating with the white bow on her dress.

For her second year as Queen, Elissa wore sunshine yellow and a matching hat, which she paired with the Genovian Diamond and Pearl necklace, which later became a favorite of her daughter, Anastasia.

While expecting the Princes Robert and Benjamin, the Queen took a page out of the style book of other royal women that came before her, in a cerulean blue dress and a matching hat with a cream flower detail.

The year after, the Queen debuted of her least liked Trooping the Colour looks with a simple red-purple hat and a hat in a similar shade. The Queen Consort also, strangely, decided not to pair any jewelry with the look, with the exception of her engagement ring.

Wearing one of her favorite designers, Natasha Burton, again, the Queen redeemed herself the next year with a salmon pink dress and bright pink polka-dots and an equally fun hat.

The year following, Elissa channeled Jackie Kennedy for her King's Day outfit a Natasha Burton Chanel-inspired skirt-suit and matching pillbox hat in white tweed.

The following year, in her 7th year as Queen Consort, the Queen took a little page out of the book of her sister-in-law, Princess Claire, the Duchess of Asbury, in an all blue ensemble, which she paired with the Tromsø Sapphire Earrings, which had been a wedding present from her father, who had passed away earlier that year.

The year after, Queen Elissa wore a Natasha Burton purple coat dress and matching hat, which she paired with the Elphinstone Chandelier Earrings.

The year following, the Queen, now one of the most senior female members of the family, 20 years after her marriage to the now King Richard, wore a Mary Poppins-esque ensemble, combined with her pearl necklace and diamond earrings, which were reported to be wedding gifts from the late King Louis and Queen Eliza.

The next year, to mark her husband's 10th year on the throne, the Queen dressed in green with a pair of emerald earrings that reportedly belonged to Queen Helena, King Richard's grandmother.

This last year had marked the start of great change for the Queen Consort, as it was her last year wearing a color that was not red, after she had welcomed Princess Alice, the King and Queen's last child, earlier that year. Her mother, Clara, would later pass away in that year.

Stay tuned for part 3 of Queen Elissa's King's Day (and a few Queen's Day!) outfits!

[givemogahug]

mogtober day 6- the gossamer spun garden

Ignore how I haven't done the last 3 days

In its prime the gossamer spun garden was a bright, full, bustling place full of wundersmiths creations from over the years but when morrigan goes its an empty room.

This raises some questions from me at least lol.

First off, what happened to the creations of the wundersmiths? Did they disappear when they died? But surely some of the wundersmiths who had started the garden had died by the time the ghostly hour mog saw was created. Maybe it needed to be looked after. Or maybe it was destroyed by wunsoc after squalls reign to destroy all joy made by wundersmiths?

And what about morrigans vomit green pillbox hat on a stick? She made it in the ghostly hour so when she returned was it all by itself in the room. Or does it stay in the ghostly hour forever???

Idk at this point I spend way too much time thinking about these kind of things.

Anyway happy mogtober 🎉

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Vintage Headways By Albert Green Velvet Feel Pillbox Hat smart dark greenblack ebay ellieandmac

[deirdreisme]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage 60s Cherry & Webb Veiled Floral Pillbox Hat Union Made FLAWED Colorful.

[elegancefascinator]

[rightcaps]

$49.64 18% off sell - Women Flower Pillbox Hat Autumn Winter Vintage Beanie Beret Cap - Army Green - C218O77UR9G 【MAIN MATERIAL】100% Wool,Except The Accessories【HAT SIZE】Length:26cm/10.24" Width:21cm/8.27" Depth:14c/5.51"m,Hat Circumference:57cm/22.44"【SUITABLE FOR HEAD CIRCUMFERENCE】56-58cm/22.05-22.83"【APPLICABLE OCCASION】Perfect for all casual or formal occasions such as parties, weddings, derby, churches, or walking through the country, watching the match, just a simple cold weather hat for those cold and blustery days in Spring / Autumn / Winter【Tips】Processing time: 1 - 5 business days. If you need your item by a certain date please let me know. more product select from our Berets:https://www.rightcaps.com/17-berets # 's #& # # #

[capsshow]

$41.21 18% off sell - Pillbox Hat Fascinator Beret Wedding Party Top Hat Church Wool Hat for Women - Deep Green - C218XKHWDOL Material: Wool, veilPerimeter: 22.4 inches, fits for most womenFascinator beret hat with veil for wedding bridal hair accessory, fashion and elegantGood gift for families and friends. Suitable for wearing in spring, autumn and winterIdeal for wedding, tea party, cosplay, performance, festivals, cocktail party, carnivals, costume party, tea party, fashion show, Christmas party, halloween party, etc more product select from our Berets:https://www.capsshow.com/17-berets # 's #& # # #

[annefic]

Some slight corrections:

- Anne typically gets about three to five new outfits made a year and it's not uncommon for her to debut at least one of them at Ascot or some other Booty Hunting Week event. I think it's possible she is wearing two years worth of new stuff now since she didn't get to trot out last year's for obvious reasons

- Several of the outfits we've seen this week have SUCH 70s Anne energy I'm honestly not fully convinced she hasn't just hardcore shopped her closet for a lot of this stuff, I'd have to dig the archive to find potential matches though :P

Is it not like Anne to buy new clothes?

No, she’s a thrifty one! Anne rewears stuff she’s had since before her children were born, and it’s rare for her to rock up to the races in new outfits, so I’m loving this week!

[rizlowwritessortof]

Sunshine

This fic was written for @deanwanddamons Three’s a Crowd 3K Followers Challenge. My quote - “I mean, accidents just don’t happen accidentally” will be in bold. My trope - Opposites Attract (Rich girl/Blue collar Dean). And my Third Wheel - Parents (in this case a very snobbish disapproving mother). Sian, I hope I did your Sian Special justice! 😁

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2952

Warnings: Nothing but the usual smut

The awesome dividers are from the amazing @talesmaniac89​ 

“Dean, you look like a stalker.”

Dean geared back in his chair, shooting his brother a disparaging look. “Just appreciating the scenery, Sammy. Unlike you who can’t tear their eyes away from that fascinating research.” His eyes wandered back to the girl in line at the window for coffee, the breeze stirring her hair and the skirt of her sun dress. “How can you not notice her? She’s a beauty, and she looks like a classy chick.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, classy chicks always go for guys like us.”

Dean smirked, looking at Sam with challenge in his eyes. “So you don’t think she’d be interested in me?”

“No way. Looks like a little rich girl, and I bet that’s her mom with her, in the Jackie O suit, all that’s missing is the pillbox hat. She’d shoot you down before you even got close to her daughter.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.” Dean rose to his feet, turning after a step to look back and shake his head. “By the way, nice fashion assessment, Samantha.”

“Shut up,” Sam fired back, bitch face aimed at Dean’s back as his brother’s bow-legged stride carried him closer to his target.

You waited patiently at the counter for your coffee order and your mother’s cup of tea to be finished. It was a gorgeous spring day, the sun warm on your shoulders, and you watched, trying not to roll your eyes as your mother pulled a tissue from her purse and disdainfully brushed at some invisible thing on her chair. She hadn’t wanted to stop at an outdoor coffee spot, but you loved to sit outside and enjoy coffee here. She’d live. Your mother needed to loosen up.

You shook your head, watching her gingerly perch herself on her chair, and you couldn’t help smiling. Not that you didn’t love her, but you were glad you had moved far enough away that you didn’t have to be under her scrutiny every day. The barista came to the window with your order, and you payed them, leaving a generous tip. You turned, coffee in one hand and your mother’s tea in the other, and collided with a tall man, gasping as both drinks hit the pavement, splashing all over the previously pristine white of your dress and the denim he was wearing.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”  You stood there, mouth open, eyes slowly scanning upwards as he spoke.

Your gaze made its way over his solid chest and broad shoulders, finally reaching his face. Your brain nudged you to close your mouth, and you did, finally nodding and forcing words out. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” My God, he was a stunning man – perfect hair, sexy lips, long-lashed eyes that were a stunning shade of green.

“I’m really sorry. Tripped over my own feet. Let me buy you some more coffee.” He grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter, bending to dab a little at your skirt, handing them to you as you reached for them. “I’ll pay for your cleaning bill. Sure you’re okay?”

You managed to smile up at him, and his eyes lit up. “I’m good, I promise. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You returned to the counter together, reordering your drinks, and Dean paid, offering to bring them to your table. Your mother watched, her expression tight and disapproving, as you approached. “Mom, this is Dean. We had a little collision and he gallantly offered to buy our drinks.”

Dean placed your mother’s tea in front of her, nodding towards her as he spoke. “Ma’am. Nice to meet you. Sorry for the trouble. I’ll pay for the cleaning bill.”

You sat down, thanking him as he set your coffee on the table. “Thank you, it’s really not necessary. It was an accident.”

“No, I insist. I can – meet you back here in the morning? I don’t have any cash on me today, but I’ll still be around tomorrow, if that works?”

You deliberately ignored your mother’s glare as you answered. “All right, I can meet you here, around 9? I come here for coffee most days, anyway.” You smiled up at him and he returned the favor, nodding in agreement.

“9 it is! See you then.” With another nod to your mother, he turned to walk away, and you happily watched, finally turning back to your mother’s reproachful stare.

“Mom. Please stop. He feels bad about what happened and he’s trying to be nice.”

She cleared her throat and picked up her tea, taking a sip before speaking. “He seems rather disreputable.”

You rolled your eyes in response. “Mother, anyone not in you and Daddy’s club seems ‘disreputable’ to you. I think he seems very nice.”

“I am concerned about you, living in the middle of this city, being influenced by all the – eccentric types who live in this neighborhood. You should have gone back to school like we wanted, gotten your masters degree instead of this job of yours. You should be dating a suitable boy by now, thinking about your future. Instead, you’re wasting your time exploring and absorbing all sorts of God knows what kind of ideas, and by the time you realize we were right all along, it may be too late. We would like you to come home.”

“That’s not going to happen, Mother. You and Daddy need to accept that and accept that I’m living my life the way I want to, not the way you have tried to dictate. And don’t threaten me about my trust fund, I don’t want to hear it. Just drink your tea and let’s try to enjoy our day.”

Sam looked up as Dean approached their table with a grin. “Guess who’s meeting little rich girl here tomorrow morning?”

His younger brother shook his head with a wry smile. “Yeah. Very smooth, Dean.” He stood, grabbing his laptop to head towards the parking lot, and Dean swatted him on the shoulder as he walked beside him.

“Takes planning. I mean, accidents just don’t happen accidentally, Sammy.”

Dean arrived a little early the next morning, settling in with his Americano and his phone. He wanted to be there when you showed up, watch you walk into the seating area, take in your presence, enjoy it all before he approached you. Hopefully you’d show up without your mom. She was definitely not a fan.

When you came around the corner, he almost choked on his coffee. You were wearing a flowered halter dress, your toes tipped in red to match, your eyes shining as you said something to – unfortunately – your mother. You walked directly to the counter, and he debated, then headed your way.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said quietly, bending close to your ear, and you turned to him with a smile.

“Dean! Good morning! Looks like you beat us here. We just couldn’t get going this morning.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm as you talked, not mentioning the fact that the reason you were almost late was that your mother had argued with you for over an hour about coming at all. You had finally put your foot down and told her you were going, but she insisted that if you were meeting this ‘shady character,’ then she was going to be there.

Your drinks were ready, so you paid the barista and handed your mother’s tea to her with a pointed stare. “Please just go sit, Mother, I’ll be there in a minute.” Obviously displeased, she took the cup from your hand and went to the same table you had occupied the day before, disapproval clear even though not a word was spoken. “Sorry about that. She has very antiquated ideas about – well, about everything. Including letting her daughter lead her own life. You’d think I was 16 years old.”

Dean laughed softly. “I get it. She’s just trying to protect you. Gotta admit, though, I was hoping you’d show up without her today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “Here. For the cleaning. Like I promised.”

“Dean, really, you don’t…” You stopped as he shook his head and pushed the money back towards you. “All right, if it makes you feel better. But it’s really not necessary.”

“I think it is. Anyway – it was really nice meeting you. Maybe someday I’ll come this way again and find you here.”

“Maybe…” You looked up through your lashes at him. “Or maybe you can meet me, say – in one hour? The bookstore on the corner. In the basement. I’ll put my mother in the reading lounge with a cup of tea and then I’ll meet you down there. If you want.”

A slow smile curved his lips, his eyes warm. “Oh, I’ll be there, sunshine.”

About 45 minutes later, Dean entered the book store, wandering until he found a sign reading ‘Vintage Books’ pointing the way to the stairs. The basement was huge, filled with bookshelves, tables and bins full of used books, grouped by genre. Dean smirked to himself, thinking how much Sammy would love this place.

There was no one down there, so Dean walked around, picking up a book here and there, killing time. He had made his way to the far corner of the room, engrossed in reading the back of a book, when you walked up beside him. “Figures I’d find you in this section,” you teased, and he grinned, glancing at the sign – ‘Erotica.’

“Huh. Thought this was the ‘Historical’ section,” he responded with a grin, and you laughed softly.

“Right. Of course you did.” He replaced the book on the shelf and turned towards you, his eyes moving over your features, waiting. The room suddenly seemed airless, and you moved a step closer, stretching up to kiss his lips, soft and tentative. When you stopped, looking up at him, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip before he put his hands on your upper arms and pulled you close, his lips sealing over yours in a searing kiss that sent your pulse racing, heat flushing through your body. When your tongues began to mingle, you raised your arms to clasp around his neck, his large hands guiding you, moving you until your back was against the bookcase as his body pressed close. He was a solid mass of muscle, working man’s muscle, smooth and taut and powerful, and being pinned by him like that sent an electric zing right to your clit, making you moan.

He finally lifted his head, both of you panting for air. You looked into his lust-darkened eyes for a moment before putting your hand on his chest and pushing lightly. He took a step back and watched as you reached behind your neck and untied your halter dress, bringing the ties forward and letting the floral fabric fall to your waist, baring your breasts. Dean’s jaw clenched as his eyes devoured you, and then he looked into your eyes, waiting for your slight smile to tell him it was okay to continue.

He ran calloused fingers over your soft curves, staring almost reverently, before cupping them in his hands. You gripped the shelf behind you as he strummed his fingers over your nipples, watching them stiffen into hard little nubs. Your head hit the bookshelf behind you with a thump as he took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing, flicking, lapping at you until you felt dizzy. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensified as he began to suck gently, and you blushed at the sounds forcing their way from between your lips.

He finally pulled back, blowing over the spit-slick bud, making it tighten even more. “Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, then moved to the other side, and you whined, your fingers gripping his hair.

“Dean, ohmygod,” you whispered, and you could feel his lips curve into a smile as he continued to tease at your nipple, his hands gripping your waist. He nibbled at the peak, and the almost-painful throb in your pussy was more than you could take. “Please… Dean, please. I need…”

He pulled off your breast with a soft pop, raising up to his full height. “What do you need, sweetheart? I’m more than happy to help.” His beautiful green eyes were almost black with want, but he was going to make you ask before he went any further.

“Need you… inside me. Fuck me, Dean, please,” you begged, and he clenched his teeth, pulling in a hissing breath as your hand found the aching bulge in his jeans. “Please.”

He nodded, and the expression on his face made you clench around nothing, almost desperate now for him. He pulled a condom from his pocket, tearing it open with his teeth and then fumbling with his button and zipper, sighing in relief as his cock was finally freed from its confines. He shoved his clothes down far enough to free himself, rolling the condom on as you watched, wide-eyed and wanting.

Dean pulled at the skirt of your sun dress, lifting it out of his way as his fingers stroked up your inner thigh. You moved your legs apart, reveling in his surprised moan at finding no underwear barring his way. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, his large hand kneading at your pussy, your hips pushing into his touch.

“Took them off before I came down,” you whispered, then gasped as he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb swirling around your swollen clit. He found your sweet spot in no time, and had you trembling and on the edge so fast your head was spinning. He pulled his fingers free, leaving you panting and clutching at the bookshelves until your knuckles were white. “Please. Dean, please!”

He leaned in to kiss you, stealing what little breath you had left, his hands moving around to the back of your thighs to lift you, letting you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, baby,” he ground out, waiting until you were clinging to his neck before moving a hand down between you, angling his cock to your entrance and pushing in slowly.

There was a silent, quivering space of time as he held you, waiting for your trembling body to adjust, the sensation almost overwhelming. When he felt you begin to relax against him, he gripped you tight and pulled back slightly, then drove up into you, groaning, “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so damn good.”

He continued to move slowly, and you clutched his shoulders, leaning in to breathe, “Fuck me, Dean,” into his ear. The moan that you got in response made your cunt squeeze around him, and with a soft growl he began driving into you, your body braced against the bookcase behind you, your legs clamped around his hips. He was punching breathless cries from you with every thrust, and you could only hope that no one else had come downstairs, because the blissful tension in your body was building to the point of oblivion. “Dean… aaahhh… I can’t…”

“Come for me, sweetheart, just let go. Squeeze that pretty cunt around my cock, come on…” His rhythm was faltering, his voice desperate. He buried himself deep inside you, holding himself there as he shoved his hand between you to rub rough fingers over your clit, and you bit your lips to smother the scream trying to escape from your throat as you came. Dean began to move again, his head buried in your shoulder, pistoning into you hard and fast as he worked you through your orgasm and reached his, bucking against you as his balls drew up tight and he exploded.

The throbbing of his cock inside you sent another wave of heat through you, and you clung to Dean with all your strength, your body shaking. He raised his head, looking into your eyes for a moment before kissing you, slow and deep, until you quieted. Then he took a step back, his hands on your waist as he lifted you slightly, pulling himself free and sending a shudder through you.

He set you on your feet, supporting you until he was sure you were steady, a soft smile on his face. He moved away for a moment, grabbing a tissue from a nearby desk and disposing of the condom, putting himself back together before coming back, a wistful look in his eyes. “I wish we had more time.”

You smiled back, your eyes closing for a moment as he bent to place a gentle kiss to each nipple before pulling your dress back up and tying the knot behind your neck. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He put a hand to your face, that same tender look on his face. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Glad I – um – ran into you.”

You laughed quietly. “Me, too. Maybe sometime you’ll be back this way when my mother isn’t here. Maybe we could run into each other again.”

Dean grinned. “That’d be nice.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Put your number in. Next time I make it this way I’ll give you a call.”

You did as he asked, then stepped close and stretched up for a kiss. “Maybe we’ll go for coffee.”

“Maybe we’ll do a lot of things.” He kissed you again, cupping your breast and squeezing gently.

After the long, lingering kiss, you stepped back reluctantly. “I’d better go. She’ll be getting impatient.” You reach for his hand. “Take care of yourself, Dean.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” He watched you as you left, then looked at his phone, smiling as he saw your number and the name next to it – ‘Sunshine.’

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @jensensgotyoudean​    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​    @geeklibrarian​    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​     @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​    @mrswhozeewhatsis​    @littlegreenplasticsoldier​    @sleep-silent-angel​    @darcia22​    @winchesterprincessbride​    @ellen-reincarnated1967​    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess​      @deanslittleangel2y5​    @melanie451​        @spectaculacular-sammy​     @bookchic20​    @jodyri​    @selma-jean-blog​           @savingapplepie-eatingthings​    @kittenofdoomage​    @masked-maiden42​    @lean-mean-deanwinchester​    @ericuhlorain​    @undecided-garden​    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf-blog​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirstblog​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​   @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​  @sarcasmqueen74​   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester​

[systemic-chaos]

I have a lot of design ideas for Hotel main staff (not counting the new staff cuz I'm not caught up to there yet) but I'm not very good at drawing so I'm just gonna try to describe them

Lobby Boy: roadkill, looks like the kind of corpse you'd find in a pit on the side of the road. Somehow both wet and dusty at the same time. Full of worms, stringy dark hair, basically just skin over a skeleton. Also has a pillbox hat. He would love the song 'Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat' I think. Or maybe I'm just projecting

The Manager: Looks like a corpse from a funeral home. Her skin is stretched very tight over her body, has that sort of unique dead people makeup done for funerals. I imagine that she has trouble closing her mouth due to aforementioned skin tightness. Also wearing an 80s girlboss power suit with coordinated colors for whatever lobby she's in cuz obviously.

The Owner: some sort of ritualistic bog body. Very big and bloated, slightly green around the edges. Moss and sticks in his hair, large beak like nose to fit the whole bird/raven guy thing he's got going on. Has a cloak of feathers but under that is just a normal guy's suit.