#i need some serious glamour

[capsensislagamoprh]

I just finished the entire companies taxes and got them last minute filed because SOMEONE is a DUMB ASS and my GAWDS I need to STAB CESAR! also some YoI RP or something. My brain is so math fried.

[endless-ineffabilities]

my man of the year

Ewan Mitchell x girlfriend!reader

a/n: just a little something for the Ewan girlies, because in this GQ party, we are all fam 💙

main masterlist

You attend the GQ Men of the Year 2024 party with your boyfriend.

You watch in admiration as Davey makes the final tweaks to Ewan's outfit for the event—a suit tailored to perfection, its velvet material snug against his lean form. A classic piece, but sporting some eccentricities that have become essential in the Mitchell-Sutton style partnership.

The velvet suit, not in the usual black or blue, also has a textured high notch and lapels, making him look like some kind of an 80s-flick vampire.

Your gaze sweeps from his polished shoes up to his face, finding that he's watching you in the reflection as he stands in front of the mirror.

He tries turning around to see you better, causing Davey's hand to fall from his shoulder as he was pinning something in place. "Ewan, mate. Save the ogling for later, yeah? Let me finish this first."

Ewan sighs dramatically, like a kid who's been asked to stand in the corner. "Okay."

You giggle softly, shaking your head at the scene. "Ewan, listen to Davey now."

You share a look with Davey, knowing smiles on your lips. Ewan, am I right?

"I just want to look at my girlfriend," Ewan complains.

"Look at me?" you question. "Look at you, handsome! You're my man of the year, every damn year."

"C'mere, babe."

"Ewan, don't move until Davey—."

"I won't move. But come here and give me a kiss."

"Fine." You get up from your comfortable position on the seat. Might as well oblige your boyfriend, the GQ honouree. Just the thought of it makes you so giddy with pride.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you rest your chin gently on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he leans his head against yours.

"There's my girl," he purrs, wrapping his free arm around your waist and Davey works on the sleeve on the other.

Then he kisses you, mindful to stay perfectly still. Only his lips move, pillowy as they caress yours. You would have to reapply your lipstick after this.

When he cheekily snakes his tongue out, you pull back, giving him an incredulous shake of your head. "Stand down, handsome."

"Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart," Davey reassures you. "Maybe we should let Ewan have his way. Poor guy looks like he's about to explode."

You all share a laugh.

A minute later, he's all ready. Davey snaps photos of him alone, then shifts to capture the two of you together. He even manages a few that feel like classic prom poses, with Ewan's arms around you from behind.

The rest of the night is a blur of lights and glamour, and the warmth of Ewan's hand on your back quells your nerves as you step onto the red carpet.

The cameras are everywhere, a sea of flashes and shouting for you to, look here, look here!

Ewan keeps you close the entire time, steering you through it all. You can feel that he's anxious too but he's a steady presence by your side. He used to need a crutch like cigarettes or gum to deal with the chaos of such public events, but when you're with him, the noise is silenced.

It's just you and him against the world.

When his arm tightens around you, you jokingly remark, "Didn't peg you for the clingy type, babe."

He glances down, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Just making sure you don't run off with some other dashing celebrity."

An idea pops up in your head. He makes it all too easy. You let out a shaky gasp, "Wait, is that Pedro Pascal over there?"

"Where?" he asks sharply, distracted.

"By the big GQ sign. Don't make it obvious, though!" you whisper, as if you're entirely serious.

He squints, scanning the sea of people coming through the red carpet, until he realizes… there's no Pedro. Not yet, at least.

He turns to you with a playful glare, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. "You think you're funny, don't you, baby?"

You give your best wide-eyed, innocent look. "Who, me?"

"You're asking for it," he whispers close to your ear so the cameras don't catch it.

You only laugh as he pulls you closer, giving your waist another possessive squeeze.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it?" you ask.

"Guess you'll have to find out after we're done here."

When he kisses you, you both know that the resulting pictures are going to flood the gossip sites, fan pages, and everything in between as soon as the next day. But neither of you care.

He makes sure that there's no mistaking who he came with that night.

And you would never tire of showing everyone just who your boyfriend is. You could scream it from the rooftops.

He doesn't need GQ to tell him he's one of the honourees of the year.

All he needs is you by his side to feel like he's truly won.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Katharine Hepburn (Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, The African Queen)—(I hope someone else submits real propaganda but just in case they don't:) Cries. Screams. Wails. The woman who singlehandedly made me realize I was bi. A real "do i want to look like her. be her. or be with her.' crisis, where the answer was all three. Holy shit please all three.

Diahann Carroll (Paris Blues, Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess)— Face of an angel. She had the range. She brought chemistry with every romance she portrayed. She also had a great fashion sense, and was so pretty Mattel made a doll based off of her.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diahann Carroll:

Another groundbreaking black actress, although she might be better remembered for her television roles. She was also an activist and worked with charities to support women in need.

here she is hanging out with shadow prince anthony perkins :3

Katharine Hepburn propaganda:

I'm sure one million people will submit her as an iconic Hollywood star but that iconicness might lead people to forget just how insanely hot she was like she had it ALL she was skilled she was funny she was smart she was beautiful AND she was likely bisexual

The single word I would use to explain Katherine Hepburn's appeal is *range*. In her acting career, that meant covering all the ground between lush period dramas and the comedies she did with Carey Grant and Spencer Tracey. In terms of hotness, it meant an uncanny ability to bring anything from a Dietrich-esque androgyny to some of the best Classic Hollywood Glamour you will ever see.

Katharine hep was so cool. The VIBES, the INDEPENDENCE,,, living life on her own terms.

she just had this.... bearing to her, this power. she could be funny, even silly (like in bringing up baby) but also so regal and elegant. she was nobody's fool and dear GOD that's so hot

Fancam link

She’s not only stunningly gorgeous (those eyes that pierce your soul! a jawline you could cut glass with!) but her delivery and physical presence in roles gives off confidence and authority in such a sexy way (truly the biggest dick energy of Old Hollywood). Her fiery energy in The Philadelphia Story? Unmatched.

God she's. She's so hot y'all. She has the range!!!!! Funny and dramatic and lovely

She IS the transatlantic accent. Classically gorgeous and such a strong personality.

She's literally one of the funniest women to ever live! She goes shot for shot with Cary Grant in Philadelphia Story and we damn well love her for it! She's the most annoying creature to ever live in Bringing Up Baby but she's so insane and funny that we simply cannot help but fall in love with her (and root for her to give Grant an aneurysm!)

i know she's accounted for but i really want to be sure someone has submitted the scene in bringing up baby where she's pretending to be a gangster

She simply stuns onscreen; you cannot do anything but be captivated by her presence. Also a non-gender-conforming icon and mild tumblr celebrity by virtue of that one picture from The Warrior's Husband (stage play).

Katharine Hepburn was out here casually changing the lives of young butch lesbians with her gender swag! She wore pants even when people said she shouldn’t, she refused to marry or have kids, and she wore menswear in at LEAST one movie!

If I start thinking about her face for too long I will cry she is so so hot. Katherine is so charismatic and charming in everything she appears in - watch her adopt a leopard and fall in love with her. Also she has the biggest dick energy ever (she and her pal Lauren Bacall share that accolade). Also had an incredibly long and varied career from screw ball comedies to serious dramas - she’s a queen of the screen and I adore her.

Someone's got to mention it, but she's won the most Oscars out of any performer and is largely considered one of the greatest actresses ever. She's got an incredible voice, an incredible presence, and she absolutely steals every scene she's in. She was private person and deemed standoffish and unapproachable, but she was also profoundly concerned for people's rights and was an outspoken supporter of abortion access. Finally, the Katharine Hepburn slacks look is just iconic. I mean look at her.

This woman. I have been obsessed with her for years. I know the urban legend is a popular one at this point of her walking around set in her underwear when her pants were stolen and she was left with only a skirt, but the pants thing is honestly enough for her to be the hottest in the room in my book. She refused to wear anything else at a time when the public in general and especially the studios did not like that. She was independent, stubborn, and so so very capable. Competency kink anyone? Also, if you want one final way that Katharine's entire life was saying "fuck you" to the establishment, it started young! Her mother took her to suffrage events, and she never got rid of that attitude of justice. I feel like I have barely scratched the surface of all the ways she was such a badass that I'm turning into a rambling mess instead.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

“Trust, Love, and Protection”

Warnings-: unwanted advances unwanted touching!

protective and supportive toto with a hint of fluff otherwise this is angst and is based off a serious topic.

The bright lights of the Las Vegas Grand Prix were blinding as they illuminated the night sky. The buzz of excitement filled the air, a constant hum of engines roaring, the thrill of high-speed racing, and the glitter of Hollywood flashing in the distance. It was a weekend of glitz and glamour, and everyone was there — from international celebrities to famous athletes and high-powered figures in the racing world.

But for her, standing on the edge of it all with her husband, Toto Wolff, and their son, Jack, the overwhelming attention was starting to feel more suffocating than exciting.

While Toto had always been protective of her, there was something about the sheer number of admirers at the Las Vegas GP that made her uneasy.

The fact that her husband was such a high-profile figure in the Formula 1 world meant that all eyes were constantly on their family.

That, in itself, wouldn’t have been a problem, but the way some people particularly certain men looked at her made her skin crawl.

As the evening wore on, she found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable.

She was used to the occasional lingering glance, but tonight, it seemed as if every other person was trying to catch her eye.

She could feel the weight of their gazes, like fingers brushing her skin, and it made her want to shrink into herself.

She had been trying to keep it together, to put on a brave face for her husband, who was occupied with the team, the sponsors, and the whirlwind of the weekend.

She wanted to be supportive.

She wanted to enjoy the moment.

But it was hard when so many men were treating her like a trophy on display rather than a person.

Her discomfort reached its peak when an actor a D-list one at that approached her.

He was slurring slightly, clearly tipsy, with an overbearing grin on his face as he leaned too close.

“Hey, you’re Toto’s wife, right? You’re even more hot and slutty up close,” he said, his voice dripping with lust.

She forced a smile, trying to be polite, but his hand brushed against hers.

She instinctively pulled back, but he wasn’t having it.

He leaned in too close, his hand now resting on her waist in a way that felt far too intimate. She stiffened.

“I’ve seen you around,” he continued, oblivious to her growing unease.

Her stomach turned.

She opened her mouth to say something to tell him to back off but just as she did, the crowd around them shifted, and she couldn’t spot Toto anywhere.

“Don’t be shy, darling,” the actor continued, his eyes scanning her in a way that made her want to shrink into herself.

“You know, I always thought you were more beautiful in person. Maybe we should hang out sometime, just the two of us, I’ve got a big hotel room booked if you get what I’m saying”.

Her pulse quickened.

She felt trapped, helpless.

As the actor’s hand slid a little too low on her back, her body tensed with disgust.

She could feel her skin crawling, and all she wanted was for Toto to show up and pull her away from the situation.

“I’m sorry, I think I need to go check on Jack,” she said, her voice a little too tight.

The actor blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback, but he quickly raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, no harm done.”

The discomfort was still there, the feeling of being objectified, of being looked at as something to be taken, not cherished.

She wished she could just disappear, wished that Toto could take her away from all of this.

She quickly found Jack, who was standing by the barriers, playing with his toy car, quietly observing everything.

He was unusually quiet, which was strange for the usually lively little boy.

He looked up at his mother, his innocent eyes full of concern.

“Mummy, you okay?” Jack looked up at her, sensing something was off.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” she lied, kneeling down beside him, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.

“Just a little tired.”

But Jack wasn’t convinced.

His sharp eyes were always able to tell when something was wrong.

After all he was his father’s son and always knew when something was up with his mother. As she stood up, he grabbed her hand, his little fingers curling around hers.

“You don’t look okay, Mommy,” he said softly, his voice full of concern.

“Are you sad? Did something happen you can trust me mummy I won’t tell I swear” his little voice spoke.

Y/N blinked rapidly, trying to fight back the wave of emotion that suddenly washed over her.

She forced herself to smile at him, but it felt hollow, like the weight of the world had pressed down on her chest.

Jack tilted his head, clearly not buying it.

“Mommy, why do you look like you are going to cry?” he asked, his tiny voice filled with confusion. “Did someone make you sad?”

Toto had been nearby, talking to a few sponsors, but as soon as he heard Jack’s voice and looked between his son and his wife, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanour.

His own heart tightened as Y/N’s smile wavered, the cracks showing through as the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over.

He hurried over to them, his face a mask of concern.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his deep voice soft yet filled with urgency.

Before she could answer, Jack spoke up, his innocent words piercing through the air.

“That man, Mommy he made you cry. That actor.”

Toto’s expression darkened immediately.

He looked at her, hurt flashing in his eyes. “What actor?”

Her eyes widened.

She hadn’t meant for Jack to say anything. She’d hoped to shield Toto from what had happened.

“I—” she began, but her voice faltered.

Toto’s gaze never left her, his concern growing more intense. “What happened? Who was it?”

His protective instinct kicked in.

He hadn’t known she’d been dealing with uncomfortable advances all night, and the thought of someone making her feel this way especially in front of their son drove him to the edge of fury.

She looked away, trying to avoid his gaze, but he cupped her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me, darling. I need to know.”

Jack was still holding her hand, now glancing up at his father, sensing the tension in the air.

“It was that actor… the one who kept touching her, Daddy,” Jack added, voice small but firm.

Toto’s jaw tightened. He turned back to his wife, his voice lower now, softer.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “Don’t hide from me, darling,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t want to cause a scene, Toto,” she whispered, her voice shaking as the emotions she’d been bottling up came to the surface.

“I didn’t want to start any drama. I just… I wanted to get away from him.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts roaring to life once again.

He gently kissed her forehead before looking down at their son.

“Jack, go with your aunt, okay? I need to talk to Mommy.” Jack, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded quietly and ran off to join their family friend, not fully understanding but sensing his mother’s distress.

Toto didn’t waste a moment. He pulled Y/N close again, his arms enveloping her tightly as he held her against his chest.

Toto’s heart broke at the vulnerability in her voice.

His hand gently wiped away her tears, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“Darling,” he said softly, “I trust you, I just don’t trust them. You’re my everything, and no one-no one —should make you feel this way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile, trying to hold back the tears.

Toto stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against her hair, rubbing her back in slow, soothing motions.

But the tears didn’t stop. Y/N’s sobs were quiet but heavy, the kind that you couldn’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard you tried.

Y/N hiccupped through her tears, trying to compose herself, but the feeling of being violated, of being treated like an object, wouldn’t leave her.

Toto gently cupped her face, tilting her chin so she would look up at him.

“You don’t have to protect anyone but yourself, darling,” Toto said, his voice firm but gentle.

“I’ll make sure we leave this place as soon as you’re ready. You don’t have to be here if it doesn’t feel right.”

She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of the night lifting slightly as she melted into his embrace. Toto was her safe place. His love was her anchor.

“You know that jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she said, voice quiet. Toto chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “I like to see you smile more, not cry.”

Y/N sniffled, her heart swelling with love for the man who always knew exactly how to comfort her. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Toto let out a breath of frustration, but his expression softened.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Toto replied, his hand gently caressing her back. “I’ll always protect you, Y/N. Always.” “I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve been more attentive. I was too caught up in all of this… all these people… but I should’ve been with you. You should’ve never felt alone.”

He took a deep breath, his voice unwavering.

“I will make sure nothing like that ever happens again. Not on my watch.”

And as the lights of Las Vegas sparkled in the distance, Y/N realized that in Toto’s arms, she was safe.

The world could throw its distractions, its unwanted attention, and its people at her, but as long as she had him and their son by her side, nothing could take away her peace.

Jack tugged at his father’s hand.

“Daddy, Mommy’s really sad. Can we take her home?”

Toto nodded. “Yes, Jack. We’re going home. Right now.”

He pulled his wife close to him, wrapping his arms around her protectively, and he whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. But I’m here now, and I will always protect you. Always.”

With a final glance at the chaos of the event around them, Toto guided his family through the crowd, their son Jack happily holding his mother’s hand as they walked to their car.

Toto stayed close to her the entire way, his eyes scanning the surroundings, his hand never leaving hers.

He was determined that from this moment forward, she would never have to feel like that again.

As they climbed into the car, Toto turned to her, his voice soft and sincere. “I love you more than anything. Don’t ever feel like you have to hide things from me. I’m here for you, always.”

She smiled, feeling the weight of the night begin to lift. “I love you too.”

And for the first time that evening, she finally felt safe.

[burreauxsworld]

Locked In (1) | Joe Burrow

Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader

Exboyfriend!joshallen x Exgirlfriend!reader

•••

Being in the spotlight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yeah, there’s glitz and glamour and getting to live out your dream you’ve had since you were a little girl, but deep down you’re still human, with normal human emotions. Emotions that are completely normal, even when people tell you to never show them. You honestly were doing so well considering the circumstances you were left with. A completely shattered heart, an album that had just dropped (full of love songs written about the person that shattered your heart), and a sold out stadium tour that would take place over the entire summer. You were thriving. Slowly but surely, your heart mended itself back together every time you took the stage. Nothing could stand in your way.

Then football season rolled around and people started noticing that you weren’t in your normal spot, in a suite at Highmark Stadium. Supporting the man you believed you would spend the rest of your life with. Even had the ring to prove it. But it all came crashing down the night you walked in on him in bed with his ex from college. It absolutely crushed you. Especially because Josh Allen seemed like the perfect guy. He treated you well, showed you off in public, spoke about you in post-game interviews, the whole nine yards. You never would have saw this coming in a million years. But it did, and it felt like the worst day of your life.

Pre season wasn’t too bad, people just assumed you were busy. Then week one came and you still weren’t there, and people started to question things. Headlines quickly made their way into the world, it was mentioned in sports news all over the country, and you and Josh had started to trend on Twitter. It was all mixed feelings. Mostly just men that were happy to see you go, the women tearing Josh down, and some fans that were devastated about the split. You never commented on the topic. You figured you’d let it die down, and at some point it would be addressed in a normal adult way.

Josh had other plans.

He’d gone on a podcast for barstool sports, and when asked about the topic he didn’t shy away from lying to the entire world. “We both have pretty busy lives. She was going to be starting her tour and didn’t really have a lot of time on her hands. There’d be times where she’d go days without reaching out to me. I just couldn’t live that way anymore”

You were dumbfounded. Completely and utterly baffled. “Brittany and I reconnected last season when we played the Chiefs. It had been such a long time since I’d seen her. We kept in touch. But assure you, there was no crossover. I’d never even think about cheating on a woman”

Blow number two. The cheating had went on far longer than you’d realized, and right under your nose. You were too busy catching up with Taylor Swift in the suite to notice that your fiancé met up with his ex. “I think I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while. I can’t speak for Y/N but I can honestly say for myself that I checked out of that relationship a year before it ended. I could not physically live that way anymore”

You couldn’t watch anymore. You powered your phone off and threw it to the end of your couch. Tears streaming down your face, your heart feeling like it shattered all over again. He’d just proposed to you in July of last year, the two of you started planning your wedding for the off season. It was all a lie.

You thought about retaliating. Putting him on blast the same way he did you, but that wouldn’t make you feel better. At this point, you weren’t sure what would make you feel better, but you knew you couldn’t be sad over him anymore. You needed to pick yourself back up.

•••

2 days later

You laughed hysterically as you threw your head back. When you realized your management team wasn’t laughing with you, you slowly stopped laughing. “Oh you guys are serious?” You question, dumbfounded. “Absolutely not. I’m not stepping foot into another football game for the rest of my life” you say firmly. “Y/N, it’s just to sing the national anthem, and then you can leave. You don’t have to stay for the entire game” your manager, Ryan, tells you with hope in his voice.

“And what reason am I going to give the media for leaving? That I was a heartbroken little child so I couldn’t stay? That’ll do more harm than good and you know it” you rant, letting out a sigh. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” You question, and put your head down when Ryan makes a face.

“It’s out of my hands. The record label won’t produce your album if you say no”

“When and where?” You say, reluctantly. “Sunday, October 6th, and in Cincinnati. This is the first AFC North divisional. There will be a lot of viewers and attendees already but you singing the national anthem would raise those numbers. The NFL is paying you very well to do this, plus you have a private suite with your name on it if you would like to stay,” Ryan explains, not tearing his eyes from you. He knew how hard this would be for you. He hated even having to ask you to do this.

“I’ll be there. But only because the future of my album rides on this. The NFL literally makes me sick to my stomach right now” you rant, rolling your eyes. “You can’t let one guy deter you from your passion of football. You loved football even before he who shall not be named. Besides, I will be there the entire time, and so will Megan. Megan is kick ass at what she does. All this Voldemort nonsense is gonna be put behind us. Clean slate, Y/N/N” Ryan assures you, and you crack a smile. “Voldemort?” You question.

“Oh yeah, he sucks. He’s lucky you’re giving him the grace that you are, and that you held me back from beating his ass that night” Ryan rants, and you laugh. Grateful that not only is he your manager, but one of your best friends. “But seriously, I’ll be there, next to you the entire day. And a little birdie told me you have some fans on the Bengals. Who knows, you may find a hotter guy that’ll be an upgrade from shit-for-brains” Ryan teases, and you scoff.

“I doubt it. I’ve sworn off athletes. Especially ones that play professional football”

“You say that now,” Ryan winks as he leaves the room, and you roll your eyes, yet again.

•••

Sunday October 6th, 2024

You heard the whispers as you walked past people. The judgmental comments about you neglecting your relationship, how you were the reason for its demise. The awful things people were saying about you, and screaming at you, almost made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. The worst ones, were the looks of sympathy you got from the women in the stadium. You knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Ryan, I don’t know if I can do this. They all hate me” you stress, and he’s already shaking his head at you. “They don’t hate you-“

“Slut!”

“Seriously?” You say, with a flat tone. “Okay, so some macho men are just mad that you’re here. Who cares? Y/N, your career is literally riding on this”

“I can get a new label” you retort and Ryan sighs. “Y/N, you got this. You’ve literally dealt with so much worse than this-“

“Y/N, you’re on in 10” an NFL official says, walking past the two of you. You feel like your throat is closing up. There’s a lump that wouldn’t go away. In all the years you’ve been performing for big crowds, this one had you nervous. “Josh turned me into a social pariah when it comes to the NFL. He literally blamed me for everything, Ryan. I shouldn’t be here” you rant, tears brimming your eyes. “You absolutely deserve to be here. And for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been upset if you spoke your truth. Damage control is my job, let me worry about that. You just go out there and sing your heart out” another voice chimes in, and you turn your head to see Megan, your publicist.

“It’s time,” Ryan says. “Y/N, keep your head held high. You can do this. I’ll be right over on the Bengals sideline waiting for you to finish” Ryan assures you, as the three of you walk toward the opening to the field. Here goes nothing.

•••

After The Game

You should’ve known that staying at the game would mean Ryan would convince you to go to the after party. Although the game ended in a Ravens win, the team still seemed to be in good spirits. A lot of them were actually a lot of fun to be around. You were originally invited by Ja’Marr Chase, who made a point to come up to the suite and invite you personally. Letting you know that he and a few other guys were big fans, though part of you thinks he was just being nice.

You came in and conversed with him and a few other guys before making your way to the bar, then to an empty booth in the corner of the room. Ryan was mingling with some of the coaches and Megan decided not to attend the party, so you were pretty much left to your own devices. You nursed your dirty shirley as you scrolled through twitter. A lump forming in your throat at the harsh things being said about you.

“You really shouldn’t look at that stuff. I’ve learned that the hard way”

Your head snapped up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, as the couch dipped next to you. “I hope this seat isn’t taken, though you’ve been sitting by yourself for the last half hour. Not that I was watching like a creep. I promise. I just got tired of standing at the bar” the deep voice rambled. “You’re okay. The seats not taken” you say, a small smile gracing your features.

“I’m just not very popular at the moment” you admit, taking another sip of your drink. “You played really well today, by the way. If you ask me, the Bengals had that in the bag” you say, changing the subject and he scoffs. “Always room for improvement,” he says, sipping his drink. “I’m Joe, by the way” he says, extending his hand to you.

“Y/N,”

“And since we’re voicing opinions, you didn’t deserve to be dragged down in the media. I’m not sure what actually happened, and by no means am I asking you to tell me, but I think it should have stayed private. Josh seemed like a nice guy, but that was a low blow” Joe says, not looking at you, as he yet again sips his drink. You frowned at the mention of Josh, and sank back against the couch. “Thanks, I guess,” you mutter, bringing your glass up to your lips. Joe looks over at you, and mentally face-palms.

“I’m so sorry. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have commented on something I know nothing about,” he says, a sense of urgency in his tone. “I literally came over here with liquid courage, with the intention of getting to know you and I fucked it up by bringing up your ex. I’m such an idiot” Joe rants, leaning back against the couch. You look over at him, a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Joe, it’s okay. You were trying to make conversation-“

“But I could’ve asked like what your favorite color is, not brought up your ex” Joe says, internally beating himself up. “It’s yellow” you answer, and he looks over at you confused. “My favorite color is yellow” you say, and he smiles. “Let’s start over. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you say, extending your hand with a smile.

“I’m Joe Burrow. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mistle-hoe

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You take on a job at the holidays to get some extra money, but you get way more than that.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Day Thirty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - how is the mistletoe following you around?

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

‘Hey, where u at?’ 

You sigh at the text message and type a flurried response before you tuck your phone in your back pocket. ‘Work’. Of course, Alicia is so self-involved, she can’t remember the one thing you told her a dozen times.

Sorry, can’t make the New Year’s Eve shindig, I need the money. 

“These shirts are... scratchy,” Paulina distracts you from your irritation, sparking a new agitation just beneath your skin. You look down at the attire and shrug. “But fancy.” 

You look down at the sparkly monstrosity. Silver isn’t really your colour. For a price, it can be. That night, you’ll be making double overtime and a tip. It’s more than worth skipping one of Alicia’s ridiculous drunken spectacles. 

“A little,” you adjust the trap. The rest of your outfit is standard; black pants, black shoes, heeled just as the job description specified. You prefer your flats with the inserts but you can bear a bit of arch pain for the check at the end of the night. Rather, year. 

“Must be quite the event,” you comment as you take a loaded tray; lobster, shrimp, mussels. The typical fair would be macaroni and cheese bites or pigs in a blanket. Tonight, is a fine affair. 

“CEOs,” Krista comes up on your other side. “So I hear. Bunch of rich old men. Just make sure you’re generous with the wine. You’ll get a bigger tip.” 

“Huh, right,” you lift the heavy tray and balance it expertly. “It might even cut short the night.” 

“Looking at some of these guys, you’re probably right,” Paulina snickers. “I’m seeing a lot of silver, not just these things.” She pinches a sequin on her shirt. “Ugh, the liner on this is awful.” 

You agree. You could throw the tray of appetizers and scratch your own skin off. You’ve dealt with worse. It’s part of the job. Banquets, work lunches, even weddings. Serving isn’t as glamourous as those melodramatic reality shows might suggest. 

You carry the tray through the curtain and start your rounds. It is a rather stuffy gathering. Black tie and all. As you silently offer your fare, acting as the perfect conveyor of gluttony, you notice a peculiar detail. Among all the tailored jackets, silk ties, and quaffed haircuts, there are no women. Not aside from you and the other servers. 

It might just be that it’s a boys’ club. That good old glass ceiling is thicker than you expect. Still, these things are rarely very lively without a female element. That’s not really your concern. You’re not the event planner, you’re just a walking table. 

“That shrimp?” A voice calls over. You turn as a man beckons you closer with his glass.  

You approach him as he turns with interest to the tray. He keeps one hand in his jacket pocket as you present the tray with indifference. He sports a rather bristly mustache and tidy haircut. It’s a choice. With money like his, style is expendable. 

“Oh, would you look at this,” he brings his hand out of his pocket and raises it high above the tray, “what do ya know?” 

You lock down a stoic expression and peer up at the cluster in his hand. Seriously? Your uncle used to pull that trick on your aunts. It was always kind of gross. 

“So uh... looks like we got caught, huh,” the man snickers. 

You look at him, horrified. He can’t be serious. Yet, if he’s a rich as they say, you expect that boundaries are nothing but a paywall to him. 

“You know it’s bad luck to break tradition,” he wiggles the mistletoe over you. “Don’t wanna start the new year off on a sour note, toots.” 

You tilt your head. You’re actually speechless. Not just your usual deferential silence, you really don’t know how to response. 

He presses his knuckles against the tray with his other hand, still gripping his glass, and steps closer. Your lashes flick in shock and your turn your head at the last moment as he puckers so he gets your cheek. His lips are wet with alcohol. Smells like gin. 

“Mm, downer,” he pulls back, “I'll get the lips next time.” 

He winks and retracts his arm, tucking away the mistletoe. He scoops up one of the skewers of shrimp and struts off without another word. God, that was slimy. You bend your head and wipe your cheek on your shoulder. 

You should warn the others. Avoid the one with the pornstache. Ugh. Why do men do this? Just think off the money. 

As you turn, Paulina’s tinkling giggle draws your attention. A man offers her a drink from his glass. You’re disappointed to see her accept. That’s a firing offence in most jobs. Not only that, it sets a bad precedence. These men don’t seem to have much restraint as it is. 

You crawl through, putting the tray out to reach hands. The air is cool as it speckles over your bare arms. You sidle around as you carry only scraps and return to curtained off space by the kitchen window. You trade your tray for a smaller one set with pre-mixed martinis. 

Another lap. The time sifts by slowly. You’re definitely earning the double overtime. Two white-haired men ogle you as they accept a martini. One sucks the olives off the toothpick as he leers. You keep a tight-lipped smile and move on. 

“Ah, don’t mind if I do,” that same timbre draws you around to face the mustachioed man. He sets his empty glass on the tray and takes one of the stemmed martinis, “you like gin, baby face?” 

“Sir,” you neither confirm or deny. He slurps noisily and rocks on his feet. 

You don’t have the space to angle around him. He seems to know it as he widens his stance and corners you further. You nearly groan as you sense his arm rising once more. No! 

The mistletoe jingles over your head, a small bell among the leaves. You stare at him with open concern. You’re helpless with your armful of drinks. 

“Ah, come on, don’t be shy,” he shifts closer, leaning in as he turns his cheek to you, “just a little one, right here.” 

You stare at his cheek. You just want this to be over with. Then you’ll be more vigilant and avoid him like the plague. You go to peck his cheekbone and he quickly snaps his head around and presses his lips to yours. You gasp and recoil, struggling not to spill the martinis as they slosh dangerously. 

He cackles and drains the martini. “Cute, I like it,” he wiggles the mistletoe again. “Hard to get, huh?” 

You back up and turn. Humiliated. What the hell? 

You glance around. Paulina’s sitting across to men’s laps as they feed her strawberries, one stroking her hip as the other keeps a hand on your thigh. Holy shit. This is getting strange. 

Krista is against the wall with another man, gray and balding. He whispers in her ear as she giggles and rubs his chest. Are you the only one working around here? 

You hurry behind the curtain and put the tray down. Where is Doris? This is her event. She should be keeping an eye on this. These men are animals. 

You peek through the curtain, scouring the room for her. You turn and go into the kitchen. It’s a frantic nest of chaos but she’s not there. Shit. You really don’t want to walk out, you need the money badly, but this is too much. You’re a server, not... what these men want you to do. 

“Oops,” the drawl makes you shudder as you walk directly into another body. The snicker that follows makes your skin crawl. It’s him. Again. “Think I’m lost, honey bee.” 

You look up at him and purse your lips. This is too much. This man is gross. 

“You can’t be back here--” 

“Baby, just a kiss,” he smirks. 

You stare at him, waiting for him to lift that stupid mistletoe. He doesn’t. You frown. 

“It’s caught,” he looks down and tilts his pelvis. The leaves are clips to his belt buckle, “would you look at that?” 

You take a step back as your nose flares. “Alright, sir, that’s inappropriate--” 

“Shhh,” he hushes you as he gets closer. “Go on, earn it, baby.” 

“Huh?” You grimace. 

“You think we’re paying top dollar for gin and fish. Go on and give it a kiss,” he grabs his belt and jingles the bell. “I’ll put an extra grand on your tip if you put one on mine.” 

You cringe and step back. He grabs your arm and you cry out. You bring your other hand up to shove his chest. 

“Hey, I’m not—I'm not prostitute, you weirdo,” you snarl as you wrestle with him. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll go for an under the table favour,” he growls. 

“Get off--” You struggle with him, fighting his strength as he keeps one hand on your wrist and the other snakes around your waist. You raise your voice as you snarl. “Dude, fuck off of me.” 

The door to the kitchen swings open and you look over desperately. Thank god. You push against the man as you send Doris a pleading look. 

“Hey, this guy won’t-- leave me--” 

“Keep it down, sweetheart,” she tuts. “You’re going to ruin the party.” She looks at the man, “Mr. Hansen, have you found everything to your liking?” 

“Oh, sure,” the man replies brightly, “I don’t mind working for it.” 

You hit his chest with your fist and try to stomp his foot, “Doris! You can’t--” 

She struts away, disappearing beyond the curtain. You whine as the man squeezes you to him and you writhe. What the fuck? 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he nuzzles your temple as your squirm, his mustache tickling your hairline, “I’ll give you a special kiss too.” His hand slips down to your ass and he gropes until you squeal. “Feel like you need that kitty eaten good.” 

“You’re.... disgusting,” you sneer as you wriggle in his grasp. 

“Oh, you’re about to find out how right you are,” he snickers and pushes his crotch against you. “One fucking lick at a time.” 

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

read this post by @bitethedevil and ended up writing this idk don't take it too serious

Read on AO3

-

Tav's fingers skittered over the red skin of Raphael’s naked back. It was always hot to the touch and smooth, its texture almost like leather. Patches of tiny scales grouped together in different spots, especially around the big joints connecting his wings to his body. Raphael fascinated Tav - not quite in the same way she fascinated him, but they were birds of a feather, so to speak. In fact...

"I've been wondering about something," she said, breaking the sleepy silence that had settled between them some time ago.

"Mm?" Raphael was utterly relaxed, the laziest Tav had ever seen him. On his belly in his (their!) bed, shirtless and shoeless - the scandal! He'd been enjoying her aimless touches. His Majesty, indeed.

"Can you fly?" She ran her palm across the thin membrane of wing she could reach, then the sturdy bone. "You've got these huge wings, but I've never seen you use them." She'd witnessed them fully stretched out once or twice, but otherwise he always kept them folded close to his body. A shame. They were magnificent. Heavy as anything, though - especially when he was dead asleep. Tav had almost been suffocated a few times trying to spoon him, and he refused to sleep in his human glamour just to let her be the big spoon. Waste of magic, he said. Spoilsport.

"What an inane question." Raphael didn't even open his eyes. "Of course I can. My wings are not for show, little mouse. No more so than a bird's are."

"Well..." Tav chose her next words carefully. She'd learned through trial and error how much she could prod her devil and when. Most of the time he was amenable to light teasing, but sometimes, when he was in a good mood like this, she could have some fun. "There are some birds out there who have wings but can't fly, you know. Peacocks, for example. They're kind of like big chickens, if you think about it."

Raphael slowly lifted his head, turned it so he could look at her over his shoulder. Tav bit her tongue in a futile attempt to squash her impish grin. His orange iris burned in the inky depths of his black sclera. A few locks of his hair were free from his usual coiff.

"Big chickens," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," said Tav, her voice strangled by the giggle she was trying to suppress. "How do I know you aren't an infernal peacock?"

"I can fly, you insipid little gibbon," he snapped, but he wasn't angry. She could tell by the twitching at the corners of his lovely mouth. Tav coughed, choked on a laugh.

"I think you should show me."

"Do you."

"For posterity's sake, of course."

"Of course."

Tav waited, watched, moved to make space for Raphael as he sat up, languidly stretching like a big cat. Accidentally whacking her with those wings she was so obsessed with.

"Apologies, dear," he drawled, about as sorry as a horny kobold in a bathhouse. He smiled when she scowled. He stood to his full height, preening as she ogled him. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he truly was a sight. Without warning he beat his mighty wings and took off, soaring across the room to land on the other side, where he nonchalantly poured himself a glass of wine. Tav spluttered in the wake of that massive gust of air. Raphael sipped his wine, staring at her as if to say, "well?"

"Good distance! You looked a little wobbly with your execution, though," Tav said. It wasn't true. He was majestic in flight, but he didn't need to know that. His ego was big enough. She combed her fingers through her rustled hair, grinning when Raphael’s eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you're right." He put his glass down and sauntered towards her. Tav's heart leapt into her throat, fear and excitement together. "I need a counterweight."

"A what? Hey!" She didn't struggle when he picked her up, shifting her in his arms until he was holding her bridal style. It was a thrill to be held by her devil, and yet. She giggled nervously, her cheeks warm. "What are you doing?"

"Why, showing you that I can fly, of course!" He declared, making a scene of looking around. "But we simply cannot do it here. There's hardly enough space. Hm...ah, perfect."

He walked them to the balcony overlooking the endless landscape of Avernus. Tav sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware of what he was about to do. Now she began to try and wriggle free, but his grip was iron.

"Okay, you've proven your point! There's no need for a second flight, your technique was perfect!"

Raphael had no mercy. He smirked down at his little mouse, showing teeth. His eyes alight with dark mischief. "Big chickens, Tav," he said, and leapt off the edge. She shrieked, clung to him like a limpet, feeling and hearing his chuckles as he effortlessly flew them around.

After the intial spike of shock, Tav relaxed, just a little. This wasn't so bad. Raphael was an adept flier, and if she ignored the monumental height she was suspended at, it could almost pass as romantic. Soaring about the hot skies of Hell in the arms of her underworld Prince. Feeling every powerful flap of his wings. His strength. Avernus, from a distance, was beautiful in a devastating way. Unfortunately for Tav, she'd forgotten quite how fiends liked to play.

"Oh dear," Raphael said, stoic. He'd been waiting for her guard to lower. Tav's stomach lurched when she sensed his grasp on her slacken. "I seem to have lost my balance."

"RAPHAEL NO DON'T- AAAAAAHHHH!"

He dropped her. Tav screamed as she plummeted to the ground, terrified and betrayed. Raphael was rapidly becoming a shrinking red blur as she fell. He was probably watching her with sick satisfaction. She cursed him. She cursed herself. Mostly she cursed him. Bastardbastardbastard -

"Fret not, little mouse," he purred, hideously amused. She was in his arms again. "I've got you."

Tav couldn't speak; could only tremble, dig her fingers into him. He laughed the entire flight back to the house, deep and rich and raw. Tav planted herself on stable ground the first moment possible, glaring at him.

"You're horrid," she hissed. Raphael cackled.

"Oh, come now. You didn't truly believe I would allow you to fall to your death, did you? Such little faith. Ah, but how sweet your screams were...I shall be hearing them in my dreams for weeks."

"Horrid," Tav muttered again. She wriggled between the bedsheets and buried herself under the covers. It didn't take long for him to join her, surrounding her with his cloying heat.

"You'll forgive me, won't you?" He murmured sweetly into her ear, raising goosebumps all over her skin. One big clawed hand slipped beneath her shirt to gently rub her stomach just the way she liked. Wordlessly she pressed into his touch.

He played her like a fiddle, always.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Town Pizza II

A chance connection between Tessa, a grounded book editor, and Harry, a global music icon, blossoms into a whirlwind romance as they navigate love, adventure, and the challenges of his extraordinary world.

Word Count: 8,164

Part two of two

Content warning: Smut towards the end

Part One

The next morning, Tessa’s alarm jolted her awake far too early for her liking. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains of her tiny Los Angeles apartment, and the buzz of city life was already starting to hum outside her window. She groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and reached for her phone on the nightstand.

A few notifications lit up the screen—emails from work, a reminder to submit edits for a manuscript, and at the bottom, a message from a number she’d saved only hours ago.

Harry: Morning, sunshine. Hope you made it to work without too much trouble. Any interesting children’s stories on your desk today?

Tessa blinked, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She hadn’t expected him to text again so soon.

She quickly typed back: Tessa: Good morning! I made it… barely. The coffee is doing most of the work right now. And yes, I’m editing a story about a mischievous raccoon who thinks he’s a detective.

The reply came almost instantly. Harry: That sounds brilliant. I’d read that. Maybe I’ll have to commission you to write a story about a rockstar who moonlights as a secret agent.

Tessa laughed softly, her tiredness momentarily forgotten. Tessa: I’ll keep that in mind. I might even give him your hair.

Harry: Ah, the hair—always a character of its own.

Shaking her head with amusement, Tessa set the phone aside and got ready for the day. By the time she stepped into her office at the publishing house, she felt a little more awake, though the memory of the previous night lingered like a dream she hadn’t quite left behind.

Her desk was already piled high with manuscripts—illustrated stories waiting to be refined and polished before making their way to bookstores. She settled into her chair, slipping on her glasses, and dove into the day’s work.

But every so often, her phone buzzed with another message.

Harry: Serious question: Raccoon detective—does he wear a hat? Tessa: Obviously. A fedora. And tiny sunglasses. Harry: Perfect. If he ever needs a theme song, let me know.

The banter was easy, flowing back and forth throughout the day, and Tessa found herself looking forward to each new message. Harry was funny, charming, and, much to her surprise, genuinely interested in her world—a world far removed from the glitz and glamour of international tours and sold-out arenas.

By lunchtime, Mitch had joined the conversation, adding his own brand of humor to their exchange. Mitch: Don’t let Harry fool you, Tess. He’ll probably write an entire album about the raccoon. Harry: Only if you play guitar on it. Tessa: And I’ll edit the lyrics. We’re basically a creative dream team now.

As the afternoon wore on, Tessa found herself thinking about Harry’s suggestion from the night before: Why wait?

Why was she waiting? She’d always dreamed of traveling, of exploring beyond the pages of the books she loved. Maybe it was time to stop dreaming and start planning.

Later that evening, as she walked home through the bustling streets of New York, her phone buzzed again.

Harry: Any plans tonight?

Tessa paused for a moment before replying. Tessa: Just the usual—dinner, a book, and maybe some sleep. What about you?

Harry: Sounds cozy. I’m grabbing dinner with some friends, but… if you’re free tomorrow, I’d love to take you to a little café I know, I have a few days off in between shows. Best coffee in the city.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was a simple invitation, nothing extravagant, but the thought of spending more time with him filled her with a quiet excitement.

Tessa: I’d like that. Send me the details.

Harry: Consider it done. Can’t wait.

As she continued her walk, the city lights glowing softly around her, Tessa realized that maybe life wasn’t just about waiting for the right moment. Maybe it was about taking a chance when the opportunity presented itself.

Tessa arrived at the café in Highland Park, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans mingling with the crisp autumn air. The little spot was cozy and quiet, a hidden gem nestled between a boutique bookstore and a flower shop. She spotted Harry right away, sitting at a corner table by the window, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.

"Hey, Tess," he greeted with a warm smile as she slid into the seat across from him. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn’t miss it," she replied, shrugging off her coat. "This place is perfect. How’d you find it?"

He grinned. "Wandering. The best things are always found by accident."

The conversation started light—talk of Mitch’s recent adventures, Harry’s upcoming shows, and the best coffee spots around town. But as the minutes passed, Tessa’s thoughts drifted back to their previous conversation about travel. She traced the rim of her coffee cup, the words forming in her mind before she finally spoke.

"I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other day," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "About traveling."

Harry leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Yeah? Any new thoughts?"

Tessa sighed, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "It’s something I’ve always wanted to do—see Europe, visit all those places I’ve read about. But I don’t know how it would work with my job. I mean, editing children’s books isn’t exactly something you can do on the road."

Harry took a sip of his tea, thoughtful. "Maybe not the way you're doing it now. But have you thought about taking a break? Or finding a way to make it work remotely, even for a little while?"

She hesitated. "I’ve considered it. But what if I lose my footing? My job is stable, and I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. Stepping away feels… risky."

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a thoughtful smile. "What if you didn’t have to figure it all out on your own?"

Tessa frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

He set his cup down and met her eyes. "Come with me."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What?"

"Come with me," he repeated, his voice steady and sincere. "I’m heading to Europe soon for the next leg of the tour. We’re hitting some of the most beautiful cities—Paris, Amsterdam, Rome, Vienna. All those places you’ve read about? You could see them. Experience them."

Tessa blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "Harry, that’s… I don’t know. That’s a huge step."

"I know it is," he said gently. "But think about it. You’d get to travel, explore, maybe even find inspiration for your work. And you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have me… and the band. It could be the adventure you’ve been waiting for."

She bit her lip, the idea both thrilling and terrifying. "But my job—"

"Talk to your boss," Harry said. "See if they’d be open to a temporary remote arrangement. If not… well, sometimes taking a leap of faith is exactly what we need. You can always find another job. But experiences like this? They don’t come around every day."

Tessa stared into her coffee, her mind racing. The thought of walking away from the stability of her life in New York was daunting. But the idea of seeing the world, of stepping into the pages of the stories she’d always loved, was exhilarating.

"I don’t know," she murmured. "It’s a lot to think about."

Harry reached across the table, his hand brushing lightly against hers. "I’m not saying you have to decide right now. But just… consider it. Life’s too short to live it all from behind a desk."

She looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm, steady, and filled with a quiet confidence that made the impossible seem just a little more within reach.

"Okay," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I’ll think about it."

Harry’s grin widened. "That’s all I ask."

As they finished their coffee and stepped out into the autumn afternoon, Tessa felt the weight of possibility pressing against her. 

After finishing their coffee, Harry and Tessa stepped out of the café and into the crisp autumn air. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a warm golden light over the streets of Highland Park. Despite the charm of the bustling main roads, Harry tugged his cap a little lower over his face, an instinctive move to avoid unwanted attention.

“Mind if we take the back streets?” he asked, glancing around.

Tessa nodded, adjusting her scarf. “Sure. They’re quieter anyway.”

They strolled side by side down a narrow alleyway lined with ivy-covered fences and quaint brick buildings. The hum of the town faded behind them, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a busker playing guitar somewhere in the park.

"Do you always have to sneak around like this?" Tessa asked, glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and empathy.

"Not always," Harry replied with a small smile. "But it’s easier when I do. Keeps things simple… or at least, simpler."

She nodded, understanding that simplicity probably wasn’t something Harry often experienced.

For a while, they walked in comfortable silence, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. Tessa was content to let the quiet stretch, but Harry had other ideas.

"So, Tess," he said, breaking the silence. "Tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up? What kind of kid were you?"

Tessa raised an eyebrow at the question. “My childhood? Wow. Not what I expected you to ask.”

"Why not?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I already know the present-day you—the editor, the book lover, the wanderlust dreamer. I’m curious about where it all started."

She smiled softly, eyes drifting to the sidewalk as they walked. “Well… I grew up in a small town, nothing like New York or here. Quiet, suburban, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone.”

"Sounds cozy," Harry said, glancing at her.

"It was," Tessa agreed. "But it could also feel… small. Like there was this whole world out there, and I was stuck in one tiny corner of it."

"Is that when you started reading?" he asked.

She nodded. "Books were my escape. I’d spend hours in the local library, reading about places I’d never been, people I’d never met. I guess that’s where my love for stories came from. They were my way of seeing the world when I couldn’t actually go anywhere."

Harry smiled. "That tracks. And what about the mischievous side? Don’t tell me you were one of those quiet, perfect kids who never got into trouble."

Tessa laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Oh, no. I had my moments. I climbed trees I wasn’t supposed to, sneaked out past bedtime to catch fireflies, and once, I accidentally set off the fire alarm at school during a science experiment."

Harry chuckled, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Now that sounds like a story."

"Not one of my finer moments," she admitted, cheeks flushing slightly. "But it taught me a lesson about following the rules... or at least knowing when to break them."

"Seems like you figured it out just fine," Harry said. "I like that about you—you’ve got this balance between being grounded and knowing when to take a risk."

Tessa glanced at him, his words lingering in the air. "I guess I’m still figuring out when to take the big risks."

"Like traveling," he said knowingly.

"Exactly," she murmured.

They turned a corner, the alley opening up to a quiet park with a single wooden bench beneath an old oak tree. Harry motioned toward it, and they sat, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above them.

"What about you?" Tessa asked, tilting her head to look at him. "What kind of kid were you?"

Harry leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Honestly? A bit of a dreamer too. Always had my head in the clouds. Music was my escape, like books were yours. I’d sit in my room for hours, strumming my guitar, imagining myself on stage in front of thousands of people. It felt impossible back then."

"But you made it happen," Tessa said, admiration in her voice.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "But even now, with all the touring and the shows, I still catch myself dreaming about other things—simple things, like days like this. Good company, a quiet walk, talking about life."

Tessa looked at him, the warmth of his words settling in her chest. For all his fame and success, there was a part of Harry that craved the same simplicity she did.

"Funny how life works," she said softly. "You dream about the world, and I dream about quiet moments. Maybe we’re not so different after all."

"Maybe not," he agreed, his eyes meeting hers. "Maybe we’re both just looking for the right balance."

Tessa smiled, the thought comforting. 

Harry leaned back against the bench, the soft glow of the setting sun catching in his eyes. He watched Tessa for a moment, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You know," he said casually, "it’s been a while since I’ve had company like this—someone who isn’t asking about tour dates or the next album."

Tessa chuckled softly. "I imagine you’re in high demand."

He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on her. "Maybe. But right now, I’m more interested in splitting a bottle of wine with someone who reads about raccoon detectives."

Tessa raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. "Oh? And where exactly do you propose we split this bottle of wine?"

Harry's smile widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "My place. I have a little apartment here in Los Angeles. Nothing too fancy—just somewhere to crash when I’m in town."

Tessa blinked in surprise. "You have a place in LA? I thought you were always on the road or England."

"I am, mostly," he admitted. "But I like having a home base in the states, even if I’m not there much. It’s quiet, private… and the wine’s pretty good too." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "So, what do you say? No pressure, of course."

For a moment, Tessa considered the offer. The idea of spending more time with Harry, away from the public eye and the noise of the city, was tempting. She hadn’t expected her day to take this turn, but then again, nothing about her time with him had been predictable.

She tilted her head, pretending to think it over. "Well, if the wine is good…"

Harry laughed, standing up and offering her a hand. "I promise it won’t disappoint, it’s my favorite from Italy.."

Tessa took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a small jolt up her arm. As they made their way through the quiet streets of Highland Park, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

"Any other surprises I should know about?" she asked playfully. "Like a private jet or a secret villa in Italy?"

Harry smirked. "No jet. No villa. But… there is a pretty impressive record collection. And a view that’s not too bad."

"Impressive record collection, good wine, and a view?" Tessa teased. "You really know how to sell it."

He glanced at her, his smile softening. "I don’t have to sell it. I’m just glad you’re here."

Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice.

Harry’s apartment in Los Angeles was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place you’d never expect a global superstar to call home. The building was modern but understated, with sleek lines and large windows that offered a glimpse of the city skyline beyond. As they stepped inside, Tessa couldn’t help but admire the space—it was warm and inviting, a blend of vintage charm and contemporary style. Soft lighting bathed the room in a golden glow, and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the air.

The living room was the centerpiece, with a sprawling couch piled with mismatched cushions, a wall of records organized meticulously by artist, and a turntable sitting proudly in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

"This is beautiful," Tessa said, stepping further inside.

"Thanks," Harry replied, setting his keys on the counter. "It’s nothing fancy, just a place to unwind when I need a break from everything."

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "This is your version of ‘nothing fancy’? I’m officially rethinking my standards."

He laughed, heading to the kitchen. "Alright, fair enough. Let’s see if the wine lives up to the hype."

Moments later, he returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table. He poured for both of them, the deep crimson liquid catching the light as it filled the glasses.

"To unexpected company," Harry said, raising his glass.

"To unexpected invitations," Tessa replied, clinking her glass against his.

They settled onto the couch, the wine smooth and warm as it swirled over their tongues. The city stretched out before them through the windows, a glittering canvas of possibilities.

"You know," Tessa began, swirling her glass thoughtfully, "I didn’t expect to end up here tonight."

"Neither did I," Harry admitted, leaning back against the cushions. "But I’m glad you did."

For a while, they talked about lighter things—music, books, the quirks of their favorite cities—but as the evening wore on, their conversation deepened.

"Do you ever feel like you’re chasing something, even when you don’t know what it is?" Tessa asked, her voice quiet.

Harry looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "All the time," he said. "When I was younger, I thought music was the answer to everything. I put everything into it, thinking it would make me whole. And don’t get me wrong—I love it. But there are days when I wonder if there’s more. If I’ve missed something while chasing the dream."

Tessa nodded, her gaze dropping to her glass. "I get that. I’ve always chased stability—school, work, having everything lined up perfectly. But now that I have it, I feel like something’s missing. Like I’m standing still while the world moves on without me."

"Maybe it’s not about having everything figured out," Harry said gently. "Maybe it’s about finding what makes you feel alive, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else."

Tessa looked at him, her chest tightening at the honesty in his words. "What makes you feel alive?"

He hesitated, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Moments like this," he said finally. "When I can just be myself, without the noise or expectations. Sharing a good conversation, connecting with someone. That’s what I live for."

Her breath caught, the sincerity in his voice disarming. She took a sip of her wine, gathering her thoughts. "For me, it’s stories. Whether I’m reading them, writing them, or living them. I think that’s what I want—to live a story worth telling."

"You already are," Harry said, his voice quiet but firm. "You just have to let yourself write the next chapter."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Outside, the city glowed, a reminder of all the possibilities waiting just beyond the glass.

"Thank you," Tessa said softly, her gaze meeting his.

"For what?"

"For this," she replied. "For listening, for… seeing me. It means more than I can say."

Harry smiled, reaching out to clink his glass gently against hers. "To stories worth telling, then."

"To stories worth living," Tessa echoed, her smile growing.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, if we drink any more of this, I might start believing I’m a poet instead of a musician."

Tessa laughed, leaning back against the couch. "You already have the look. All you need is a journal and some brooding."

"Brooding, huh?" he teased. "Do I not seem broody enough for you?" He dramatically furrowed his brows and stared off into the distance, clutching his glass as if pondering the weight of the universe.

She burst into laughter. "Okay, stop. That’s more melodrama than brooding."

Harry set his glass down, laughing along with her. "Fine, maybe brooding’s not my thing. How about this instead? Let’s put on some music."

He got up and walked to the corner where his record player stood, flipping through a stack of vinyl until he pulled out an album. A moment later, the warm crackle of a needle met the grooves, and a soulful melody filled the room.

Harry turned back to her, holding out a hand. "What do you say, Tess? Fancy a little dancing?"

Tessa hesitated for a moment, glancing at her half-empty glass before grinning and placing it on the table. "Why not? We’ve already crossed enough lines tonight."

She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. The song was slow and smooth, with a rhythm that seemed to melt into the warm ambiance of the room. Harry twirled her gently, making her laugh as they moved awkwardly at first, swaying and stepping over each other’s feet.

"You’re terrible at this," she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

"I’m fantastic at this," he countered with mock indignation, spinning her again for good measure.

The wine had clearly gotten to both of them by the time the second song came on. Their steps grew looser, their laughter louder, until they were full-on dancing in the middle of his living room. Harry twirled dramatically, nearly stumbling into the couch, and Tessa doubled over laughing, clutching his arm to keep him upright.

"Okay, maybe we are a little wasted," he admitted, catching his breath.

"A little?" she said, her voice breathless. "I can barely feel my feet."

He looked down at her, their laughter fading into a quieter moment. The music swelled around them, and for the first time all evening, the world seemed to stand still. Harry’s hands rested lightly on her waist as her fingers grazed his shoulders, the space between them narrowing.

Tessa felt the weight of the moment pressing against her, her heart pounding as she met his gaze. She didn’t know whether it was the wine, the music, or just the magic of the night, but before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed him.

Harry froze for a split second, then kissed her back, his hand moving gently to the back of her neck. The kiss was warm and tentative at first, but it deepened as they found a rhythm, the music fading into the background.

When they finally broke apart, their faces were still close, breaths mingling in the dim light of the room.

"Well," Harry said softly, his voice tinged with amusement. "That was… unexpected."

Tessa’s cheeks flushed, but she managed a smile. "You’re not complaining, are you?"

"Not even a little," he replied, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

They stayed like that for a moment, the wine and the warmth between them creating a heady mix that made the rest of the world feel far away.

Harry leaned back in, his lips brushing against Tessa’s as he kissed her again, this time deeper, slower, as if savoring the moment. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her a little closer, and she felt herself melt into him, the world around them dissolving completely.

Her fingers found their way to his hair, tangling gently as the kiss grew more intense, heat sparking between them. For a moment, everything felt effortless, natural, like they were falling into a rhythm that had been waiting for them all along.

But then Harry stilled, his lips lingering against hers for one last heartbeat before he pulled away. His breathing was uneven, and his hands rested lightly on her arms as he took a small step back.

Tessa blinked, her mind still spinning, as she met his gaze. His eyes were soft, warm, and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place—affection, maybe, or restraint.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a small smile, his thumb brushing lightly against her arm. "I don’t want to keep kissing you like this."

Her brows furrowed, her heart skipping. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled, his smile growing a little sheepish. "I mean… we’re both a little tipsy, maybe more than a little. And this—" He motioned vaguely between them. "I don’t want it to be something we blame on the wine tomorrow. I want to remember it. All of it."

Tessa’s heart softened, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her initial confusion. She nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re kind of a romantic, aren’t you?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his grin returning. "But can you blame me? Some moments are worth waiting for."

She chuckled softly, stepping closer to him, her hand resting lightly against his chest. "You sure know how to say the right thing."

"I mean it, Tess," he said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "You deserve more than some hazy memory of a night like this. And so do I."

She felt a flutter in her chest, her cheeks warming. "Okay," she said softly. "I get it."

"Good," Harry replied, his grin turning playful again. "Because if we’re going to do this, I want to get it right. All of it."

They shared a quiet laugh before he took her hand and led her back to the couch. The record had finished playing, the room now filled with the faint hum of the needle against the vinyl.

"Want to restart the music?" he asked, reaching for the turntable.

Tessa nodded, settling into the cushions. "Only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through the next song."

"Deal," he said, winking as he set the needle back.

And as the soft crackle of the record filled the room once more, they fell into easy conversation, the heat of the moment replaced by a warmth that lingered long into the night.

As the night wore on, Tessa knew it was time to head home. The wine had worn her out, and despite the comfort of Harry’s apartment, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. She called an Uber, and Harry walked her to the door, his hand brushing against hers as they stood under the soft glow of the hallway light.

"Text me when you’re home safe, yeah?" he said, his voice warm and low.

"I will," she promised, smiling up at him.

For a moment, it felt like he might kiss her again, but he simply squeezed her hand gently and stepped back. She turned and walked down the hall, her heart thrumming with every step.

The ride back to her apartment was quiet, the city lights blurring past as she replayed the evening in her mind. By the time she got home, the weight of the night was pressing on her in a way that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. She needed to shake off the haze of wine and emotions, so she headed straight for a hot shower.

The steam enveloped her as the water cascaded over her skin, and she leaned against the tiled wall, letting her thoughts swirl. Harry’s words, his touch, the way he’d looked at her—it all felt like something out of a storybook.

I’m falling for him, she realized, the thought hitting her like a revelation. No, it wasn’t just falling—it felt deeper, more consuming than that. She was insanely in love with him.

She finished her shower, wrapping herself in a plush towel and padding into her room. As she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Mitch.

Mitch: Hey, so… Harry told me he invited you to Europe.

Tessa’s eyes widened, her pulse quickening as she read the text.

Mitch: I think you should go. It’s a great opportunity to see the world, and honestly? He’s completely smitten with you.

She stared at the screen, her heart racing. The idea of going to Europe with Harry felt both thrilling and terrifying. It was a chance to step into the life she’d always dreamed about, to finally see the places that had lived in her imagination for so long. And the fact that Harry wanted her there? It sent a jolt of warmth through her chest.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Tessa: He’s smitten with me? Really?

Mitch replied almost immediately.

Mitch: Oh, come on. You’re not that clueless. He’s completely taken with you. Trust me—go to Europe, Tess. You won’t regret it.

She set her phone down, lying back on her bed as her thoughts spiraled. Could she really do it? Leave her job, her routine, her carefully constructed life behind for something so uncertain?

The next morning, Tessa woke up with a mix of nerves and excitement buzzing in her chest. The realization of what she’d decided to do hit her like a jolt of electricity, but instead of dread, she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom.

At work, she spent the first few hours finishing edits on a manuscript before gathering the courage to talk to her boss. She knocked lightly on the office door, and her boss, Linda, looked up from her desk with a warm smile.

"Tessa, come on in. What’s up?"

Tessa stepped inside, her hands clasped in front of her. "Linda, I need to talk to you about something."

Linda gestured to the chair across from her. "That sounds serious. Everything okay?"

Tessa nodded, taking a seat. "It is. It’s just… I’ve been given an opportunity, and I think I need to take it. I’ve decided to travel for a few months. To Europe."

Linda’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing her face. "Wow. That’s a big step."

"It is," Tessa agreed, her voice steady. "And I know it’s sudden, but I’ve always dreamed of seeing the world, and this feels like the right time. I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned here, but I think I need to take this chance."

Linda leaned back in her chair, studying her for a moment before smiling. "You’ve always been one of our best, Tessa. We’ll be sad to see you go, but I understand. Life’s too short to let opportunities like this pass you by."

Tessa’s shoulders relaxed, relief washing over her. "Thank you, Linda. That means a lot."

They spent the next half hour discussing logistics—wrapping up her current projects, transitioning her responsibilities, and setting a tentative end date. When the meeting ended, Tessa felt a bittersweet pang in her chest but also an undeniable sense of excitement.

Back at her desk, she picked up her phone and typed a quick message to Harry.

Tessa: I talked to my boss this morning. I’m officially joining you on the road. Europe, here I come.

The reply came almost instantly.

Harry: That’s amazing! I’m so happy you’re coming. It’s going to be incredible—I promise.

Tessa smiled, her heart pounding with anticipation as the reality of her decision sank in.

Tessa: I hope you’re ready for me to ask a million questions about where we’re going.

Harry: I wouldn’t have it any other way. Get ready, Tess—you’re about to live the story you’ve always dreamed of.

And Harry was right, she was living out the dream she could only think of in her slumbers. 

Two Months Later

The Italian sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets of Verona. Tessa couldn’t stop staring at everything—the terracotta rooftops, the ivy-covered walls, the charm of a place so steeped in history that every corner seemed to whisper a story.

Harry walked beside her, his hand brushing against hers as they weaved through the narrow alleys. He had insisted on taking her to see Juliet’s balcony, one of Verona’s most famous landmarks. It wasn’t a typical tour stop for him, but he knew how much she’d love it.

When they arrived, Tessa stood in awe, her eyes fixed on the iconic stone balcony above. Tourists milled about the courtyard, taking photos and leaving notes on the walls, but for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just her and Harry.

"I can’t believe I’m actually here," she said, her voice soft with wonder. "I’ve read about this place so many times, but seeing it in person… it’s surreal."

Harry grinned, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. "You know, I couldn’t bring a literature lover like you to Italy without making this stop."

She turned to him, her smile wide. "It’s perfect. Thank you."

"Well," he said, tilting his head toward the balcony, "if we’re going to do this, we have to do it right."

Tessa laughed, already catching on. "Oh no. Are you suggesting…?"

"Absolutely," he said, stepping back dramatically and clearing his throat. "Let me channel my inner Romeo." He pointed up at the balcony, raising an eyebrow. "You ready, Juliet?"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her grin as she walked over to stand beneath the balcony. "Fine, but only if you don’t embarrass me too much."

"No promises," he teased. Then, with theatrical flair, he gestured grandly toward her. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!"

Tessa burst into laughter, her cheeks flushing as a few nearby tourists turned to watch. "You’re ridiculous," she said, shaking her head.

"Ridiculously good at this," he corrected with a wink. "Now it’s your turn, Tess. Up you go!"

Before she could protest, Harry stepped closer, lacing his fingers together to give her a boost. With a mix of laughter and determination, she climbed up onto the balcony, brushing her hands against the cool stone railing.

Once there, she looked down at him, her heart racing—not from the climb, but from the way he was looking at her, his playful grin softening into something more.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay in character. "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

Harry smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name—or just meet me for wine after this, and we’ll call it even."

Tessa couldn’t hold back her laughter, doubling over as a few onlookers chuckled along. "You’re the worst Shakespearean actor I’ve ever seen," she called down.

"And yet," he said, holding his arms out dramatically, "you love it!"

She rested her chin on her hand, looking down at him with a soft smile. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, the playfulness faded into something quieter, more intimate. The noise of the courtyard, the murmur of tourists—it all seemed to fade as they looked at each other.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the breeze.

"For what?" he asked, tilting his head.

"For this. For all of this."

Harry’s smile widened, and he stepped closer, resting his hand against the balcony’s stone base. "You don’t have to thank me, Tess. You make it all worth it."

And as the Italian sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Tessa realized that moments like these were the reason she’d taken the leap. For the stories, the laughter, and the kind of love that made the world feel just a little more magical.

The sun had set over Verona, leaving the sky painted in deep hues of orange and purple as Harry and Tessa walked to a charming little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. It was the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it, with candlelit tables and the scent of fresh basil wafting out into the evening air.

Their dinner was a symphony of delicious food and easy conversation, laughter bubbling up between bites of homemade pasta and sips of rich red wine. Tessa felt at ease, like this wasn’t just dinner—it was a memory she’d cherish forever.

As dessert was served—a decadent tiramisu with two spoons—Harry set his fork down and leaned back slightly. There was a softness in his expression, a quiet tension in his posture that Tessa hadn’t seen before.

"Tess," he said, his voice low and careful, "can I tell you something?"

She paused mid-bite, her heart skipping at the seriousness in his tone. "Of course. What’s on your mind?"

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now. Ever since you joined the tour, really." He paused, meeting her gaze. "I care about you, Tess. A lot. More than I probably should."

Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest.

Harry smiled nervously, his fingers brushing the edge of the table. "You’ve been on my mind constantly. I love how you see the world, how you light up when you talk about stories, how you’ve made this whole experience feel… different. Better. I think I’m falling for you."

For a moment, Tessa was silent, his words settling over her like a warm blanket. Then, with a soft smile, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

"Harry," she said, her voice steady, "I feel the same way."

His eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in his expression.

"I’ve been trying to figure it out too," she continued. "At first, I thought it was just the excitement of being here, but it’s more than that. You make me feel alive, like I’m living a story I didn’t even know I wanted."

Relief washed over his face, and his smile grew. "So… we’re on the same page?"

"Completely," she said, squeezing his hand.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of quiet smiles and meaningful glances, their newfound connection filling the space between them. When they finally left the restaurant, the cobblestone streets of Verona were bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps.

Harry reached for her hand as they walked, his fingers threading through hers effortlessly. They strolled in comfortable silence, the night air cool but invigorating. Around them, the city hummed with life—faint music drifting from open windows, the distant chatter of other late-night wanderers.

"I could get used to this," Harry said, his thumb brushing gently against the back of her hand.

"Me too," Tessa replied, her heart full.

When they reached the entrance of their hotel, Harry paused, turning to face her. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Goodnight, Tess," he said, his voice low and warm.

"Goodnight, Harry," she replied, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing as she stepped inside.

As she walked to her room, she realized that this wasn’t just a night she’d remember—it was the start of something she’d been dreaming of without even realizing it. Something real. Something hers.

Tessa lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling of her hotel room, the events of the evening replaying in her mind on an endless loop. No matter how hard she tried, sleep wouldn’t come. Her heart was still racing, her mind filled with the way Harry had looked at her, the warmth of his hand in hers, and the words he’d spoken over dinner.

She tossed the covers aside, her pulse quickening as a thought took root in her mind. Without letting herself overthink it, she slipped on her robe and padded quietly down the hall, stopping in front of Harry’s door. For a moment, she hesitated, the silence of the hallway pressing in around her.

Just knock, she told herself. Before she could lose her nerve, she rapped lightly on the door.

The sound of movement came from inside, and within seconds, the door swung open. Harry stood there, barefoot and dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her.

"Tess?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him—hard. Her sudden movement caught him off guard, and he stumbled back a step, but his arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

The door swung shut behind them as Harry regained his footing. He kissed her back with equal fervor, his hands sliding to her waist as they moved further into the room. Tessa felt the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, and with a gentle but deliberate push, Harry lowered her onto the mattress.

"Tess," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and hoarse, "are you sure about this?"

She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her hands gripping his shirt to keep him close. "I’ve never been more sure of anything," she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

Tessa couldn't help but feel flustered as Harry pulled away, his eyes searching hers intently. She could see the desire burning in them, mirroring her own. Her heart was racing, her body aching for his touch. As he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, she felt a jolt of anticipation course through her veins.

"I've been thinking about this all night," she confessed in a breathy whisper. "I need you, Harry."

He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You sure do seem ready for me." His hands slipped beneath her robe, tracing delicate patterns on her skin as he skimmed across her stomach and up to cup her breasts through the silk material of her nightgown. Tessa arched into his touch, moaning softly at the sensation. His fingers found the hem of her gown and started to pull it upwards, revealing more of her body with each inch.

As the garment finally rose over her head, Harry gasped softly at the sight of her lace-trimmed bra and matching panties. He leaned forward to kiss along her collarbone before trailing his lips down to tease at the swell of her breast, eliciting a gasp from Tessa as she felt his warm breath against sensitive skin. His tongue circled around her nipple through the fabric, causing shivers to run down her spine.

With one swift movement, he yanked the bra down and off, freeing both breasts to his hungry gaze and eager touch. He cupped them both in his hands, tweaking a nipple between his thumbs and forefingers while his mouth worked on the other, sucking and nipping.

Tessa tossed her head back in pleasure, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Meanwhile, he reached for the button on his jeans, unfastening them with clumsy fingers. Once they were undone, he pushed them down over his hips, along with his boxers, freeing his erection. Tessa's eyes widened as she saw it for the first time—long, thick, and hard. She reached out tentatively to touch it, feeling the heat radiating from the skin. It throbbed in her grasp as she wrapped her hand around it slowly, stroking up and down.

Harry groaned deeply, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. "That feels so good," he murmured hoarsely. "Touch me like that again."

Slowly but surely, she began to stroke him more firmly, her other hand moving to brush against his abdomen. He gasped sharply as she teased the sensitive skin just above his belly button before moving lower to touch the base of his shaft. The smell of their arousal filled the air as their bodies swayed together in rhythm with her movements.

As Harry's breath became ragged and he squirmed beneath her touch, Tessa leaned forward to take him into her mouth. She suckled gently at first before deepening the kiss, swirling her tongue around him and taking him all the way inside. Her head bobbed up and down as she savored every inch of him, feeling him grow even larger in her mouth.

Harry gripped her hair tightly in one hand while he ran the other down her back. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You're amazing."

Encouraged by his words, she picked up the pace, bobbing her head faster and harder until she felt him tense and a warm rush of liquid hit the back of her throat. She sat back on her heels, panting heavily, as he came down from his high.

"You're incredible," he repeated, his voice thick with lust. "Now it's my turn, love."

Harry pulled her closer, sliding his hand between their bodies to guide himself towards her entrance. He pushed slowly at first, inching deeper inside as she moaned softly. The feeling was intense but exquisite; every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. As he began to move faster, picking up a steady pace, they both lost themselves in the moment—their breathing ragged, their skin slick with sweat.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and their combined gasps for air as they reached their climax together. Harry's body tensed as he cried out her name before collapsing beside her, their hearts steadily slowing down once more. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as they lay there panting together in post-coital bliss.

Tessa stirred awake, the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of Harry’s hotel room. The sheets were warm and faintly smelled of him, a mix of cedar and something uniquely his. She blinked, her mind slowly catching up to the reality of where she was.

She turned her head to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He was already dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped loosely in front of him. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that told her he’d been deep in thought.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Harry turned, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Morning,” he said quietly, offering a small smile.

Tessa pushed herself up against the pillows, clutching the sheet to her chest as a wave of shyness washed over her. The intimacy of the night before still lingered in the air, but there was something serious in his gaze that made her pause.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice tentative.

He nodded, his eyes flicking to the floor before meeting hers again. “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “About what?”

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “About us. About what this means.”

Tessa’s heart tightened, a flicker of uncertainty creeping in. “What are you trying to say?”

He shifted, turning fully to face her. “I care about you, Tess. A lot. But I need you to understand what comes with… being with me.”

She frowned slightly, pulling the sheet tighter around her. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “My life isn’t normal. It’s schedules that don’t make sense, cities that change every week, and stretches of time when I’ll be halfway across the world. There’s paparazzi who will follow us, fans who might not be so kind, and people who will try to turn this into something it’s not. It’s chaotic. It’s unpredictable. And I don’t want you to walk into this without knowing what it’s going to be like.”

Tessa sat in silence for a moment, his words sinking in. She knew what he was saying was true—she’d seen glimpses of it already, the way strangers watched him when they walked through a crowd, the whispers and camera flashes that followed wherever he went. It was a life she’d never experienced, one that felt both thrilling and overwhelming.

“I’m not naïve, Harry,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his. “I think you’re worth it. This is worth it.”

Harry’s gaze softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Are you sure? Because once this starts, it’s not something we can take back.”

Tessa leaned forward, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I knew what I was getting into when I came here. I chose this. I chose you.”

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. Then he squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll do everything I can to make it worth it, Tess. I promise. It’s not always going to be perfect but I’ll try.”

Tessa smiled, her chest warming at his words. “We’ll figure it out together,” she said. “One day at a time.”

He nodded, his smile growing as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “One day at a time.”

[missholloween]

Why Joey's EOTPII/Casino character was Owen: a theory

Tagging @smytherines , @toringo and @just-watching-dont-worry. This will be long

First of all, let's introduce our guy: waiter #4 or, as he's called in the subs (more on that later), the manager.

During the first Spies viewing, one usually pays attention to Joey, as they might be expecting Owen to return in one way or another. I personally got so caught up with this character because of Joey's body language.

Eyes on the Prize II is a very showy number: the ensemble must move at the same time, and they should all be in the same page. They are showy, yet classy; ostentatious, yet controlled. They have to be all the glamour and riches they are singing about.

That's why waiter #4 stood out to me: he's serious as the other are, yes, but he also seems angry. Here are some ensemble photos so that you can see it:

Why the intensity? Why those gestures? I really encourage you all to rewatch A1P6 so that you can see it, as he keeps the energy for the whole number (even the quick "keep your eyes on the prize" changes). He's not even the waiter that Curt knocks out after his PTSD attack.

It is also remarkable how these expressions are really similar to another (queer) villain of Joey: Wilbur Cross. Wilbur in Made In America and this waiter has a really similar body language. Coincidence? I don't think so.

If it was only Eyes On the Prize II though, I wouldn't be thinking that much about this... But waiter #4 is one of the three waiters with lines in that scene (the other two being Brian's and Lauren's), so let see what he does.

Joey's waiter first talks when Curt loses it and threatens the Informant, quickly jumping to defend them. Joey's character reacts almost immediately, so he must have been nearby, and is so aggressive that Curt backs down quickly. After threatening Curt with throwing him out of the Casino, he checks the Informant to see if they are okay.

The subs call this character "Manager", and it would thus explain the way he acts: he was nearby because he's in charge of everything that's going on, and he does have the power to expel costumers if they act inadequately. A manager also spends a lot of time with his employees, so it makes sense that he's protective with them.

Why then, is the next character Joey plays also called "Manager"?

This character (that, according to the subs, is the same person) has a foreign accent, something none of the other waiters had, and a silly high-pitched voice. His purpose in this scene is to finish humiliating Curt: he tells Curt he has an immense debt for the night and also rebounds his check. The manager is cordial to Tatiana, greeting her while Curt struggles with his payment. He also leaves once Tatiana suggests a solution, and, in a lower voice (similar to no moustache!Manager) says "thank you, ma'am".

Why are these two characters technically the same role? One may think it's because other actors need to be prepared for a quick change or something, but Tessa doesn't! Her next role is ensemble in Not So Bad, and they have a good 3-4 minutes until that. And if they are supposed to be different characters, why would the subtitles use the same name for him? Joey's choices also seem to be stage directions, especially in the coreo. There are too many details for it to be simply a coincidence.

What's the reason, then? Joey is playing Owen at the casino: after his first encounter during A1P3, Owen is on alert knowing that he might cross path with Curt again. He thus decides to go undercover in the casino to see if he'll meet him before attending to Von Nazi's plan. Owen wants to be close, but remain unseen, so he plays one of the waiters of the floor. However, when Curt threatens the Informant, Owen's feelings betray him and quickly intervenes, probably triggered by Curt "brutish ways". After that, Owen has to return with a new role (moustache), as he wants to know where Tati and Curt are leaving. He thus takes advantage of Curt's state to mess a little with him, a little bit of foreplay before what he has prepared for him.

TL; DR:

This also provokes so many fun little headcanons and possibilities. Like, did the Informant and Owen had a relationship then? Would Tatiana have noticed it? Does Owen really think Curt is stupid enough to not recognize someone just by a different voice and a stupid accent? I think it could give way to a lot of fun ideas (but also I do need to know why did they have Joey twice and not Joey and Tessa)

[emmg]

first line or page or whatever

I was tagged by lovely @starfleetteddybear

And now I'm tagging everyone I can think of because you all already know I adore being a fly on the wall, continually being fed by yalls lips @heylittleriotact @lavenderprose @caffeinatedmunchkin @aldisobey @fenharel-babe @lafaiette and everyone else (seriously, I am so serious, so super serious, freaking tag me to read it)

I don't write in order so this isn't technically "first page or first sentence" or whatever, but it is the first thing in the document. It's not edited or anything, so yeah

I'm not working on anything in particular at the moment, but this is from a Emmlich x Rook creepy, not-happy, definitely morbid one-shot

---

Her hand dangles from her wrist like an afterthought, a relic of some forgotten desecration. Hours ago, it was ordinary: warm, alive, unremarkable. Now, the skin stretches taut and shiny, the color of old wax, fissured at the knuckles, crisp and lifeless. The nails are beginning their exodus, retreating one by one, and the bones beneath flex with a quiet, unnatural creak, like a poorly oiled hinge. Each movement elicits a sound, a faint, unbearable crackle, as though the hand itself is trying to speak, trying to beg for stillness. 

Her arm betrays her further, holding onto the hand as though it remains unchanged, blind to the ruin at its end. The arm insists there is nothing wrong, and for a moment she wishes she could share in its delusion. 

"You have done well, Bellara. Thank you for bringing her here. You may leave," Emmrich says, his voice drifting through the fog of her horror. 

She blinks, her gaze slipping downward. His feet. They look normal. His voice, so calm, so kind, as if nothing in the world had shifted. But when he touches her hand she sees the wrappings around his fingers, the frayed edges of fabric, and something inside her mind explodes, splinters into a thousand jagged shards. 

The sound that escapes her lips is not quite a scream. Her lungs are too hollow for that. It is a keening, a whimper, the noise of a wounded animal, ribs already shattered, being struck again. She cannot look at his hand, and yet she does, helpless, dragged to the sight as though by hooks lodged in her skull. Even as the glamour rushes back around him like a second skin, summoned hastily to soothe her panic, she sees it. Beneath the wrappings, beneath the illusion. She sees what lies hidden, what should never be seen. She does not need to see it clearly. She has seen it before.

She imagines the layers of herself peeled away in the same manner: skin slipping like the rind of a fruit plunged into boiling water, sloughing off to reveal raw muscle, wet and glistening. The muscle stripped clean, sinew unwound like thread, veins plucked and discarded, the bone beneath polished to a gleam until it is no longer hers, until it is no longer anything but a thing that must be hidden, bound, wrapped. Her hand, no longer her hand, becoming his hand. Becoming him.

She stumbles backward, choking on her terror, pushing, pleading, begging—away, away, away.

"Oh, no, no," Emmrich murmurs, soft and quick, catching her wrist before she can fully recoil. His fingers press into her, their texture wrong despite the illusion of skin. The glamour is seamless, his hand as it once was: warm, familiar. It looks right, yes, but the feel of it betrays him. 

"My darling, my darling," he coos. "It is but a malfunction, nothing more. I will fix it." 

And he does. She does not know how, does not understand the spell he weaves, the threads of magic pulled like a puppeteer’s strings. She only knows the sensation: the slowing of time as though the world itself hesitates to watch. The veins in her hand reinflate, blood coursing sluggishly, obediently. The yellowed, parchment-thin skin blushes pink again, fat plumping her fingertips, the flesh regaining its softness. 

The medallion stops its maddening thrumming at last, silent after being stirred to life by Bellara’s cursed artifact. Silent, but still there, still pulsing faintly against the edge of her mind. 

Emmrich smiles at her then, the smile he no longer has, the one the glamour keeps for him. It is a lie, but a convincing one. She realizes, distantly, that she has stopped crying. 

"It just needs a few adjustments," he says, lifting the medallion from between her breasts to rub its surface idly, reverently, like a craftsman tending to his finest tool. "Simple as that."

[mossplot]

Maybe a good/better ending AU? 🥹

What about a set of headcanon designs of formal/evening attire for the Tulpar Crew? May or may not include Jimmy, and Curly's condition is up to you. :3

OMG YIPPIE YES! I LOVE THIS ASK BC I’VE THOUGHT TO MYSELF SO MANY TIMES “oh man, what would a better ending look like?” BC I SEE SO MANY POSTS AND ART PIECES ON IT! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH!💕💕

Mouthwashing Better AU+

Formal Attire!

TW: Mentions of R*pe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-I like to believe in this better AU, when Anya tells Curly about what Jimmy has done to her, he immediately confronts him and pulls NO punches.

-Curly wants to believe it's some sick joke for his own sanity, but he knows Jimmy and what he's capable of (being somebody's friend for twenty-some-odd years does that.)

~"Hey man, what's up?"

~"Anya told me. Jimmy, man...what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you serious?"

-Doesn't bother contacting cooperate before deciding to put their cryogenic chamber to good use protecting Anya (not without heavy resistance on Jimmy's end, kicking and scratching trying to avoid being confined.)

-The rest of the haul went rather smoothly with maybe a few very minor bumps and scraps here and there.

-There's plenty of team bonding like game nights. Daisuke always wins much to everyone's dismay, but it's fairly funny watching Anya get pissed off and claim he's cheating at an "un-cheatable' game.

-Without Jimmy around, no one feels that they have to walk on eggshells anymore (this especially applies to Anya.)

-When they finally make it back to Earth, they're all so relieved yet saddened.

-Even though they are ecstatic to get back to their regular lives, they had grown to be a family over the past year.

-Lots of hugs and tears (mostly from Daisuke) and promises to meet up as often as all of them can!

-Jimmy is unfrozen and put on trial, being convicted of rape and thrown in prison. He gets counseling and progresses into a much better person but remains in prison for a long time ultimately deciding that when he gets out, he won't contact anyone on the Pony Express team. (He fades from their memories over time and they have no idea what became of him.)

-Daisuke goes home and reconnects with his parents and sister after being gone for a year, blabbering about everything that occurred and about how much fun he had interning for Swansea (who he calls every so often to keep in touch.)

-After a couple months or so, he finally decides to apply to Maryland Institute College of Art and gets accepted! (His parents are just happy he's finally applying himself.)

-Swansea already had a preestablished family prior to joining the Tulpar, a family in which he was so grateful to see again when he got back and vice versa.

-He took a very deserved period of self TLC before going back to work the auto-body shop he and his daughters ran!

-Curly had the most eventful time after leaving the Tulpar as he wasn't sure he wanted to be a captain anymore after that trip.

-He takes some time, job hopping from being a commercial airlines pilot, a line service technician, and finally settling on a less glamourous yet much more significant title, Professor Curly at Purdue University.

-Speaking of college, Anya decides to go back to school in an attempt to get her master's in Nursing and after several setbacks, she manages to graduate with a 3.56 making her the dean's list!

-It's her very graduation that has the crew (minus Jimmy of course) reuniting after several years!

-Graduations are an important event, especially college ones! This is exactly why each member comes dressed in what they view as "formal attire."

-While all of the men dawn suits of various colors, Anya wares a beautiful plum colored ankle length gown fitted with three golden star pins that corset the back under her ceremonial garb. On her feet are tasteful golden, shimmery flats that serves to complement the pins as well as allowing her to move as needed. (AKA she cannot walk in heels for the life of her.) Chooses to steer away from any Jewlery and leaves her hair as is naturally. Usually wearing very minimal makeup, Anya decides to go all out for this special occasion! https://pin.it/aAdHL9ahttps://pin.it/aAdHL9a0H0H

-Daisuke is clade in a salmon-colored suit (the same color as his Hawaiian shirt he wore in his days in the Tulpar) that is adorned by golden fixings on the cuffs. While his hair, now grown slightly longer, is pulled back into a neat ponytail, he decides against a tie or bow, rather leaving the top button undone and open showing off two layered necklaces. One a locket of his family and the other a simplistic, thin chain. He wears red dress shoes that do not compliment his attire at all, but as long as he liked it who cares? He too decides to wear a bit of makeup to enhance his features. Despite his time in college, Daisuke remains as cheerful and free-spirited as he was in the past!

https://pin.it/6BJb0uEGc

-Curly's attire consists of a very plane navy blue suit to compliment his eyes. The suit is similar to Daisuke's in style and cut, but instead of gold fittings his are silver! The only one in the bunch to wear a belt and he makes sure it's black to match his shoes and tie! His curly hair is slicked back with a few left dangling as framing pieces.

-Lastly, Swansea comes in a regular black suit and tie with his favorite sneakers from his collection on. He has a silver tie clip snapped on to ensure it stays on straight (you cannot convince me he does not have one of those) that match his cuff buttons! His greying hair is combed back into that neat style that older gentlemen wear, courtesy of his wife! He originally just wanted to go in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but his wife scolded him into changing on the condition he could still wear the sneakers.

-The graduation goes flawlessly, and emotions run high as they all crowed into cars heading to the nearest restaurant for good food and even better company.

[laughableillusions]

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere‼️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

[princesssarisa]

The Most Common Types of Fairy Godmother in "Cinderella" Adaptations

Since @ariel-seagull-wings and I have already posted about the different portrayals of Cinderella and her prince, I thought it might be nice to look at the different portrayals of the other characters too.

Each portrayal of the Fairy Godmother is unique, but patterns do emerge across the different adaptations. I've found that the different portrayals of the character can be divided into five categories, with some portrayals combining two of them together.

The Regal, Ethereal Lady

This beautiful, elegant creature is emphatically a fairy godmother, not a godmother who happens to be a fairy. She wears a gorgeous flowing gown, not of any earthly fashion, and though her age is indeterminate, she seems youthful yet wise. Her demeanor is kind and gentle, yet serious and stately, though she might have a slight playful streak. She takes on the role of the story’s moral authority as well, usually emphasizing that she comes to reward Cinderella for her goodness. Often, she first appears disguised as an old beggar woman to test the respective virtue of Cinderella and her stepfamily, and Cinderella earns her good will by giving her bread while the stepfamily scorns her. Sometimes she has attendant fairies or other magic-users to assist her as well: she might even be portrayed as the Fairy Queen, who lives in the forest like Shakespeare’s Titania and has countless fairies, elves, and sprites as her command. Fairy Godmothers of this type are most often seen in earlier adaptations: they include “La Fée” in Massenet’s opera Cendrillon, the Fairy Godmother in Prokofiev’s ballet, Inez Marcel in the 1914 silent film, Varvara Myasnikova in the 1947 Russian film, Celeste Holm in the 1965 version of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical, and the animated Fairy Godmothers both in the 1935 Betty Boop cartoon Poor Cinderella and in the 1979 Russian animated short.

The Grandmother Figure

This Fairy Godmother is a little old woman, and she’s very human as fairies go. She might not be regal, or beautiful, but she radiates a sense of warmth and comfort like all the best grandmothers do. Her sweetness, gentleness, and maternal affection are just what Cinderella needs in her despair, and sometimes she can be adorably absentminded – forgetting where she put her wand, almost sending Cinderella off to the ball in her rags, etc. – which adds gentle comic relief to the story. Yet she also conveys the wisdom that comes with age, and her magic is just as powerful as that of any younger, more glittering fairy. The quintessential Fairy Godmother of this type is the one voiced by Verna Felton in Disney’s classic 1950 animated film. Several other animated versions aimed at children feature grandmotherly Godmothers too, like the versions from Jetlag Productions and Burbank Animation Studios. In the 1995 musical A Tale of Cinderella, “La Stella” is Cinderella’s actual grandmother, whose magic sadly couldn’t save her daughter’s life, but can save her granddaughter’s future. Jean Stapleton’s Fairy Godmother in the 1985 Faerie Tale Theatre adaptation is also very grandmotherly, although she has additional glamour and a sense of humor that bring her closer to the next type of Fairy Godmother on the list (see below).

The Sassy Glamour Queen

She’s beautiful, she’s elegant, she’s as smart as a whip, and she knows it! This is a more modern, lighthearted twist on the Regal, Ethereal Lady. The sparkle of the gorgeous gown she wears is matched only by the sparkle of her playful wit, and her confidence in herself is surpassed only by her confidence in Cinderella. Her sense of humor lifts Cinderella’s spirit, while her intelligence, poise, and indefatigable spirit make her a strong role model for the girl. Yet though kind and caring, this Godmother tends to be a bit more standoffish than others – though not in a bad way. She urges Cinderella to solve her own problems, not just rely on her, and to have courage and faith in herself against all odds. The most famous Godmother of this type is probably Whitney Houston in the 1997 version of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical. But Edie Adams’ elegant and mischievous Godmother in the original 1957 Rodgers and Hammerstein telecast is a good example too: although since she spends most of the story masquerading as a human, she combines this portrayal with another type (see the bottom of the list). Meanwhile, Jean Stapleton’s Faerie Tale Theatre Godmother has the elegance and humor of this type, but as an elderly woman, she combines it with the Grandmother Figure. Last, but not least, is Billy Porter’s nonbinary “Fab G.” in the 2021 Sony/Amazon musical.

The Eccentric Mage

This funny and kooky Godmother is one of those beings who combine magic with just a little insanity. Her mind is like her powers: not entirely of this earth. Like the Regal, Ethereal Lady, she tends to disguise herself as a poor, ragged old woman to test Cinderella’s virtue and befriend her before the ball – but she takes it a step further and masquerades as a crazy homeless woman, who spouts odd remarks and whom anyone less kind than Cinderella might try to avoid. Yet even when not in disguise, she’s a bit of a ditzy oddball, who sometimes fumbles her spells once or twice before she gets them right: e.g. dressing Cinderella in the wrong type of clothing at first, or turning the pumpkin into the wrong item, or accidentally making it grow to a gigantic, greenhouse-shattering size before it becomes a coach. Fairy Godmothers of this type include Helena Bonham Carter in Disney’s 2015 live action film, “Crazy Marie” in the 2013 Broadway version of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical, Joyce Gordon in the Muppets’ Hey, Cinderella! and Estelle Winwood as Mrs. Toquet in The Glass Slipper. Although since Mrs. Toquet never takes off her “crazy poor woman” disguise, she combines this variant with another one: The Godmother Who Happens to Be a Fairy (see below).

The Godmother Who Happens to Be a Fairy

This is the most human portrayal of the Fairy Godmother: an ordinary woman who just happens to have magical powers, which she hides until they’re needed. Cinderella typically befriends her long before the ball, sometimes knowing her from childhood. She might be a household servant, or a kindly neighbor, or a traveling portrait painter, but whoever she is, you wouldn’t guess that she’s a fairy. She might even pretend not to believe in magic. She might also be Cinderella’s literal godmother – a close friend of her late mother’s, or even a relative. But no matter who she is, the friendship and the simple, human advice she gives to Cinderella (e.g. never to lose hope, or not to be afraid to love the Prince) are just as valuable as her spells. Edie Adams’ mischievous Godmother combines this characterization with the Sassy Glamour Queen in the 1957 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Estelle Winwood’s Mrs. Toquet in The Glass Slipper combines it with the Eccentric Mage, and Annette Crosbie’s sensible and ladylike yet quirky Godmother in The Slipper and the Rose combines it slightly with the Eccentric Mage too. Other examples are the artist Paulette in the anime series Cinderella Monogatari, the cook Mandy in the original novel of Ella Enchanted (who is also the Grandmother Figure), and the pasta-stirring grandmother La Stella in the musical A Tale of Cinderella (ditto).

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland, @faintingheroine, @angelixgutz, @softlytowardthesun, @amalthea9

[gamersagainstthemachine]

i hear sh2 remake is good? i know nothin about silent hill. got my sister into RE and just beat dmc1 with her watching, hoping she starts to like 3 and 4 when i get there. but yeah, vido games! love em

ive been playing these games because i found the ps2 which i thought had died and i also frequent thrift stores and have been able to find these games cheap (not the silent hill games obviously collectors have scalped those) but my friends got me dmc1 because it "seemed like something id like" yeag. it cracks me up especially the devilman references. but it seems like these games are also just popular again with the general person?

i havent played sh2 remake myself yet im busyyy and also tired of people rushing me to play things instead of doing it in my own pace. but ive been following along the release and it has some good things to it like environment details and even more endings. people have always been praising the little things in the writing and art direction which arent in the remake and they havent been replaced with better content so its lesser in this way. absolutely no way replace plauing the original with this one lol

i like games that are like interactive theatre with a great soundtrack and silent hill is often this. there is a lot of silent hill content, from installments that prove games are art to b movies that facilitate stupid cliches and it also encompasses other franchises like forbidden siren which i have played a bit of and team psyskallars fangames which are better silent hill games than some silent hill games and also hit closer for me because they take place in urban scandinavia. You know me its all been indie game supremacy because i didnt want triple A bullshit but ive made friends that have introduced me to the value of Big Gaming because its a part of them and because they are important to our culture and they are creative and its fun and there IS a lot of bullshit done in the name of marketability like blatant sexism and racism which i complained about the other day completely devalues the new dragon age for me because once i start thinking the authors are idiots with no other values than representing a power fantasy it really just feels like a waste of time to visit their work. Not that i dont want a power fantasy but i need it to address what matters to me especially the unattrative parts of life. Silent hill 2 is exactly this its what marias character is all about. i set my standard for video games when i first heard about silent hill 2 and similar games. the thing to like about it is that it is just so honest. its not really about people being horrible and ugly it makes a point about people being multifaceted and realistic and it is a sufferfest sure but its to drive a point home about ultimately love and gotta like media that examines the concept of love. they never try to censor themselves which i like because adults dont need content censored for themes they have specifically sought out depictions of. because it doesnt dumb down or glamourize it is entirely different from other commercial experiences which makes it weird that it is a popular franchise and video game with things like remakes coming out because you just cant treat it like any other consumable product its not anonymous or universal like that which lends itself to waifus and merch. but at the same time its also a video game made for an audience of adult gamers so it was made to create a fanbase around it. the best thing about being a silent hill fan is the gatekeeping and elitism it has resulted in and im serious because they arent games for everyone and it shouldnt be treated like they are. everything in moderation and all and the overexposure and bad retellings completely undermining or missing the sophisticated point is really prevalent. mr ito said it best https://x.com/adsk4/status/1495530138922283008 but seriously i have to even ask silent hill cosplayers and fanartists if theyve even played/seen the games and they often say no. a bit alienating. i think its fair to say the reputation overshadows the actual content for better or worse. it gets more exposure with the remake delightfully making history repeat itself like dis

i think you would like silent hill games for their thoughtfulness i rec emulating 1-3 maybe 4 and maybe give siren a try even though its difficult. it is pure japanese horror and the face model scans are very haunting the plot is also more resident evil-scoped. but yeah very big franchises, tap out when you get tired.

personally i think any remake should be played as a sequel although triple a games are usually finished products when they come out so they dont really need more content? but people talk about remakes all the time so playing through an old game series like dmc made me think about it. DMC4 has a lot of things to like that were never realized or only realized in pachinko games because it wanted to be this big final fantasy hero adventure but had rushed development. playing it feels very stiff and vague and it should have been much longer story wise but it was padded out with nonsense gameplay. it "needs" a remake or prequel for sure! DMC2 was also never realized and i personally like its tone more and i think it could be remade to be the sequel that DMC never got.

DMC truly feels like the designers just did whatever they think is fun and throw it at you and thats good because media should be challenging and the gameplay and puzzles definitely felt like the game was treating you like an adult. I was really surprised when DMC turned out to be important to me. Because it wasnt really where id look for a game experience that is intelligent or subversive. But i was surprised when its an emotionally smart game. ill be honest what makes DMC work is the camp, which isnt necessarily profitable or what a straight audience of noncreatives want so i think thats why it kinda has been worked out since DMC1. but dmc1 güde. i dont remember the last time i noticed i was smiling while playing a game my genuine and& honest reaction

i thought dmc was final fantasy for the longest time which is why i got pleasantly surprised by the dmc1 cutscenes you know the ones when they happened ahahah. that game is just entertaining i hope you and your sister had fun with it too! i have played all of the dmc games now except for the reboot which i am very interested in playing because even though its a bad dmc game from what i have seen it looks like an excellent devilman game it seems their train of thought was very similar to crybaby. dmc4 was almost my least favorite moreso than 2 but i can imagine DMC4 is very good if youre a catholic teenager. dmc5 is worth playing the other games for, its like the details and continuity keep hitting you and V is goth incarnate he is the character ever. his official manga is that good and it has no official english release at all. fucked. the dmc1 anime is fun its very 2008 anime. The franchise overall feels like it keeps giving.but it also feels like its thinning out by relying too much on happy reactions in the reader like jokes. it really hurts vergils character the most i think.

i was so excited to play 4 more games like dmc1 but they are very different which also has its merits i guess but i miss the darker stuff and difficulty. dmc5 gives you gold orbs just for starting the game... the novels can def be skipped for fanwritten lore dumps

its pretty common for people to say that dmc is for kids but i think its exactly for people that have seen all the tropes genres and series it draws on before and want a fresh spin on them that doesnt take itself seriously when it comes to plot but does handle emotional maturity carefully. its different from resident evil in this way right? when they arent implementing internet discourse, then franchises are increasingly asking us to take their stories seriously marvel is prime example of this and i just cant bring myself to gaf so i lov dmc way more than resident evil. i also got into that franchise by chance because i won a copy of re8 village and some of my ps4 games were stolen so i needed things to play. im peeved by the shallowness of the series but they do haunted house experiences SO well. i get a bit scareds. RE engine is also insaaane they really spend so much money on rendering every single wrinkle on dantes ass in leather and dynamic wetness its excellent to play with

the thing about these games is that you can really help getting an attachment to them after playing because they are really effective. i understand the dedicated audiences. I hope you take your time with them and its so awesome to bring somebody else along for the ride. it can be challenging to visit old media that has its installments in perspective to eachother because old players view them retrospectively. but there is also some cool historical fan content to find. and its one of those beloved franchises once you know it you just remember seeing it everywhere. i think my friend had pictures of trish and nevan on her computer when we were like 9 and had no idea what it was from but our favorite activity was of course Google Images

so ya i wrote much but that was all i wanted to say. youll have to list the replies in numbered order or something if you want to add anything XD

clown lady 4 u V have a wonderful day

[ghoulangerlee]

Leeeeee dear friend

How about...New Summon Mountain very quickly realizing that the human world is just not sized for beings as tall and large as he is. Everywhere he goes he's knocking things over, banging his head on doorways, accidentally bumping things and people with his tail. He feels like a bull in a china shop and sometimes he just wishes he was smaller.

mac you are actually my hero i need you to know this asdlkfjdsf it came through and OH.

this became a look into Mountain's mind; no serious content warnings here, but there's some sadness and self hate, Mountain's not in a good place mentally after he's summoned.

A nice little bright ending tho <3 also my first time actually writing the ghouls from the end of Terzo's era while Terzo is still alive lmaooo this is like a vague look into my own personal lore for ghoul summonings and stuff like that haha. (i also did not read over this so im sorry if there's any glaring errors oops. goodnight!)

-

He claws his way out of the Pit with a great gasp, his fingers curled as he grips onto the stone flooring under his hand—he feels a few of them start to crumble under his strength, but he can also feel the pull of the Pit still, trying to call him back into her clutches.

A great roar releases itself from his throat as he heaves himself up out of the swirling magic, landing with a heavy thud as stone crumbles under the impact—a growl building as his eyes adjust in the low light.

There's several people standing around, a man with skull paint on his face—watching him with a curious look.

"I'm Papa Emeritus the Third," the man says, stepping forward and swiping away the edges of the summoning circle with his foot, the turbulent magic dying down as soon as the connection disturbed. "Welcome to the Surface, Ghoul."

-

Being on the Surface is a lot different from the Pit—up here, he has a name, something given to him to help identify him, the man, Papa Emeritus the Third, had said.

There's a lot to learn, to understand, etiquette that he'd never expected to be introduced to; how to greet people in the church who held a higher standing than him, honorifics for certain people. None of it made sense in his mind, where he was from, everyone was equal and things like names and honorifics didn't exist for him.

But, he was Mountain now, the drummer of the band that Papa Emeritus the Third led.

A ghoul summoned from Below to aid in spreading of Satan's word.

(Though Mountain is sure that He would have a few things to say about how this specific church chooses to do that.)

-

There was something off about everything on the Surface—his magic felt weak and his joints ached the longer he stayed glamoured, something he'd been taught from the beginning that he was to be, unless he was in his private quarters.

But even in his private quarters, the walls felt like they were closing in, the ceiling too low for his over seven foot unglamoured form, his horns scraping painfully against stone every time he turned—even his bed was too short for him to sleep properly in either form, shoulders aching painfully as he slept curled in on himself, his tail hanging off the bed in an uncomfortable manner.

-

He blames it mostly on the fact he can't really feel his magic, and he aches for it sometimes, goes barefoot on the stone floors of the church just to feel something while he's being carted around and taught how to be a good band ghoul.

Classes, day in and day out where he has to focus what little magic he can and use to to make his form into something smaller and human—it's a nauseating feeling for him, the sharp words of his mentor, another earth ghoul who'd been summoned nearly thirty years ago now, practically berating him for not catching on immediately.

(The Clergy demands the best of the best to be summoned, if you're not up for it we can send you back and summon someone who is.)

The words cut deep, but he keeps his mouth shut, drains what little natural magic is left in the stone floors and funnels it into his own, shrinks his great horns down until they're nothing more than a pressure he can feel building at his temples, begging to be freed.

He stumbles now that the weight is gone, his tail knocking over the table behind him—a tray of dishes goes crashing down to the floor, shattering on the stone.

His mentor just huffs, and Mountain can't see his face but he knows that there's a look of displeasure there.

Stuck halfway between glamoured and not—his horns gone but his height still there, he's dismissed for the day with a sharp wave, another vague threat of being sent back rolling off of the earth ghoul's tongue.

When he leaves, he hits his head on the top of the doorway, the sound echoing into the room behind him; he thinks the earth ghoul huffs again, but he doesn't dwell on it—not really, nursing a head wound as he makes his way back to his room.

He shouldn't be having this much issue with his glamour, with his magic, but he feels blocked. It feels wrong.

He feels too tall for the Surface, too tall to be part of the band—he's met the others, the quintessence ghoul Aether, the fire ghoul Ifrit, even the water ghoul Dewdrop, and Zephyr, an air ghoul who'd been promoted from a different job within the church, he's still tall, taller than the rest of the band, his glamour half stuck somewhere between a towering six foot six and seven foot

He wants to me smaller too, like the others—he's seen them without glamour, they're all taller than the humans of the church, but with magic, they're able to change that, able to make themselves look normal.

No matter how hard Mountain tries, he can't.

-

"Hey there big guy," Dewdrop's voice startles Mountain out of his concentration, his tail warping into existence and he stumbles at the sudden weight of it—unwieldy and annoying, in the way as it sweeps across the floor and takes three folding chairs with it.

Mountain hisses something, voice going deep and all encompassing as he berates himself in a language that he hasn't spoken since before being summoned—he feels too much, everything all at once, closing in on him, hands fisted at his sides as he just wishes his magic would wor—

"Hey Mountain," Dewdrop's voice cuts through, cool hand reaching out to rest on his back (when did he hunch over like this, his glamour completely gone, his horns having taken out several more folding chairs

"Hey Mountain," Dewdrop's voice cuts through, cool hand reaching out to rest on his upper back (when had he hunched over like this, his glamour completely gone, his horns having taken out several more folding chairs—). "Hey, big guy, come on, breathe with me," he speaks again, stepping closer.

(Dewdrop's a water ghoul, he doesn't need to breathe, this is so stup—)

"Mountain," Dew says, firmer, digging his nails just barely into Mountain's upper back, catching his attention, "You're freaking out and I need to get you calm, okay?"

They're in one of the practice rooms, Mountain had come in here to work on his glamour, not having to hunch over quite as much because of the space in the room—it comes back to him slowly, as Dew takes several loud deep breaths, exhaling just as loud until the white noise in Mountain's mind dies down.

He feels a bit foolish, being caught while not being at his best, unglamoured in a mess of chairs, but Dew just watches him with a curious look, empathy rolling off of him in waves.

"Sucks how much our magic is dampened here," Dew murmurs, crouching down beside him, his touch cooling, calming, as he brushes his fingertips over a cut across the back of Mountain's hand.

The cut starts knitting itself together slowly and Dew smiles a soft sort of thing as he watches it. "You hide a lot from us," he says, glancing up at Mountain's face. "Why?"

Mountain feels seen in that moment, a sort of strange, crawly feeling settling over his skin—he's not sure it's something he likes.

"Trying to keep my place in the band." Is what comes out of his mouth, "If I don't get my glamour straightened out before our first ritual, they're going to send me back."

The words come out and he's unable to stop them, but as he continues to air his fears out, Dew just looks on, watches him with a gentle sort of look, thumb brushing over the back of his hand where the cut used to be.

"Come and meet the rest of the pack," Dew says when the silence stretches between them afterwards and Mountain's heaving a bit from all he'd said out loud. "Having a pack helps you settle up here, according to Zeph. We've been waiting for you to reach out," he pauses, a look on his face, "But I think this is something that'll need a bit of interference."

Mountain is tired, he should say no, try to figure things out on his own, but instead, he just hangs his head, nods so timidly that he barely moves, but then Dew's squeezing his hand and Mountain wonders if things actually will be okay.

(The pack find him—the two of them, still sitting among a mess of folding chairs in the practice room, the silence in the room soft and comforting, and when Zephyr gently coaxes Mountain into trying his glamour one more time, he does.

When he stands a few moments later, there's no pressure at his temples from his horns being improperly restrained, his tail is hidden away with no affect on his balance—and when Aether comes to stand beside him, he's only three inches taller than the quintessence ghoul.)

[fantasy-relax]

Jealous kitty.

Bonus!(Brainrot)

Donna Beneviento x Reader (MC)

"I will be working with Cassandra on her.."

She doesn't listen after that static fill her head, you are leaving her. This Is her chance her route why Cassandra is always ruining it.

"You're going to leave me for Cassandra?" She can't help te venom in her voice, you are leaving her for her flirty, dramatic, excentric (adopted) niece. If it was Bela or Daniela she could at least understand the blonde was a softy behind her cold exterior and the red head was sunshine incarnate. But Cassandra?

"I don't going to leave you I'm just gonna be in Cassandra's play" You remark not made her fell better at all" For three months and one week approximately. The Romeo original is going to be better by that time. I still want to work with you, I just need to change the schedule for that.

She can't do nothing to stop the hurt that she feels, she was here first, she asked you to work with her first! how can you go to someone else so easily?.

"if is not okay with you, I-"

"Ok" her jaw is tight trying to bite the word before saying it" Okay, you need a more flexible schedule I can do that, It will be just for few months and you will come back to me " She can adjust both of your schedules to ensure she is in the theater when you were rehearsing because she refuses to let you alone with Cassandra, she knows how her niece can be.

She looks at you and her anger subsidy when in your face in your eyes all she can see is softness and care.

"I will always come back to you"

God, how much she wishes for that to be true.

She knows that next few months will be difficult for you, she knows that you need all the rest you can get but she is angry for your choices. It doesn't help that the play is Romeo ad Juliet, every single touch, hug and flirt put her in the edge of throwing her tool box at Cassandra's head.

"When I said left I meant my left, move it again" she was being petty but every single time her eyes closed the image of you with Cassandra tormented her so she decided to torment you "Good job, now these two" She ignored your pleading face.

-------—-------------------------------------

Everything was perfect, you were hers. At least for this timeline.

She knows that she is being clingy but she can't help herself, kissing you, touching you just being close to you make her the happiest woman in the world. And you let her! You don't get mad or annoyed with her, you don't mind her behavior at all you indulge her!.

You brought light to her world she can't lose you if you were gone she doesn't know what she would do. She prays for Forgetfulness in the next loop she doesn't wish to remember this happiness she doesn't wish to know what being yours mean, it will be too much pain for her to bear it.

She was the first to notice how some of her clients will sneak looks at you, how they would blush when you handed their order, how they would giggle like idiots outside the shop pointing at you oblivious self.

Troie.

When you finally noticed, you try to let them down gently some understood, others will come back bought something and flirt with you like she wasn't there.

Puttana. Vaffanculo, tutti.

"Sweetheart this can't go on" of course this can't go on, these bitches need to back the fuck out. "We need to maintain a professional image in the shop, that mean no kisses in front, no stealing me away to the nursery when I'm working and no picking fights with the clients, okay?" WHAT.

You are joking right? This is a bad joke right?. No. You are serious.

She pout and put her best puppy eyes. She can see how close you are to bending to her wishes but in the end you stand firm.

"Dear, sooner or later the glamour will fade way but the reputation of your shop will be damaged. We need to be professionals about this." Why did you had to be like this?

"Ok" CAZZO.

Your lunch break became make up break. But it seems not matter how many hickies she leaves in you, they still keep trying to take you away from her.

Of course she sees when that Figlia di puttana give you some paper, you take a look just to roll your eyes and quickly throw it in the trash, she was curious to know what exactly was so she picked up.

A number.

This. Is. Enough. She walked back to the nursery, less she throw a pot at the next woman that flirt with you, avoiding you every time she go out. When you grabbed her hand she easily go away just saying:

"We must keep a professional image in the shop, remember?" the look in your face made her smile.

You wanted her to play nice, she will play nice. You were about to know what Malicious compliance mean.

------—--------------------------------------

Avoiding you for almost week, was hard for her but it's all part of her plan. She can feel your eyes on her every time she is with you in the front.

Did she bend a little more that necessary? Yes.

Did she put more sway on her hips when walking? Yes.

Did she can feel the hunger and desire in your stare? Yes.

Did she enjoyed it? Absolutely.

Now the final details for her plan.

"Hi aunty! Did you are still messing with my roomie?

"I'm not messing with them, I'm doing exactly what they asked me, now can I ask you for a favor?"

"You betcha! What do you need?

" A friend of yours and your thieving skills"

The day has come, Five minutes before five o'clock she put the kettle her phone buzzed.

"We are outside!"

Perfect. She goes to the front, ignoring the sad look in your face. "Why dont you take a break I made some chamomile tea"

You nod, and she knows that you would come back quickly, not willing to leave her alone for more that a few minutes knowing how hard is for her to deal with people.

She almost feel bad about what is going to happen.

Almost.

Angie friend comes to her.

"My friend said that you would reject me I said that at least I should try so what do you say pretty girl, go out with me?" your stare was burning with jealousy and she don't even try to hide how pleased she was with that

"Well I have been a little neglected" she was being mean and she was enjoying it. "but is a no, sorry"

" Oh well I try it" the sigh that she let go was more of relief than disappointment the poor girl was perfectly aware of the murder in your eyes.

"Professional image, dolcezza" it's all she said before going back to the nursery. Riling you up was so fun.

You were fuming all the time you were working. Not even your so called fans were willing to talk to you for more than two minutes. At the end of the day you looked at her with fire in your eyes that made her so restless but she will no be the one to admit defeat.

"Do you mind if I walk you home?"

"It will be my pleasure, Tesoro" the smirk in her face just made you more angry.

The walk was silent one.

At the steps of her family home you looked at her, putting her best innocent face she looked back at you.

*Just a little more*

She took a step to you and patted your shoulder with a hand full of dirt, because she needs your shirt dirty for the next part of her plan and because she deserves to be a little shit. You blinked at her audacity.

"See you tomorrow, dolcezza" smiling she opened the door. One, two, three.

She was being hosted over your shoulder it seems that the adrenaline and anger was giving you strength, closing the door with your leg you make your way to her room, opening the door aggressively and throwing her in the bed.

"Why are you being so rough" She was pouting but she knows you can see the mischievous shine in her eyes.

Without answering her question you kiss her with all the hunger you had been keeping inside. Freeing her hair out of her bun, you tore her shirt open, kissing her free skin soft sighs escaped of her mouth transforming in a whine when you bite her clothed breast while taking off her pants, she raise her hips her patience had been running low since you put that stupid rule.

You move away with fascination and adoration in your face how easy is for you to made a mess of her, she is panting trying to catch the breath that you stole, tears in her eyes for the pain of your bite and she knows her underwear is ruined already.

She is so needy and she is not afraid of admit it.

"Beautiful"

Your praise never fail to make her blush, she is so embarrassed and so flattered.

She knows that you are still mad when you grab her legs rougly moving her to the border of the bed, quickly you kneel devouring like a starving beast.

-----------—---------------------------------

She loves this.

You in her arms sleeping so calm so comfortable. Your naked body pressing close to her your back and shoulders were full of scratches that she touches softly.

Maybe she was a little rough too. But considering that her legs feel numb and she is sure she is full of bite marks is fair to say this is a tie.

You are hers and she is yours.

She glances at the clock in her dresser. Well, she is the owner she can open a little more late is not like is the first time she has done it.

She just wants to enjoy this a little longer.

Later an alarm goes off, waking both of you.

Moving slowly you hiss "My love did you have to scratch the hell out of me?"

"Depends, did you have to fuck me into the mattress?" Not that she is complaining as is what she wanted, she needed your unshackled desire. And how much she enjoys feeling you so deep in her.

You blush but the proud smile in your face give away your satisfaction. "You could have cut your nails if this is what you were planning"

Oh this is not over yet. "I have been busy".

She tries to hide her smile when you asked her for clothes.

"Donna, sweetheart, darling, dear, you don't expect me to walk around like this" you gesture at your body full of marks that the tank top can't hide.

She shamelessly ogle you God, if she doesn't knew that you need to present your exam she would be all over you, under you, beside you.

When she became a pervert? Oh you were waiting her answer.

"I'm sorry cara mia Is all I have" she said with the most sincere tone she can muster. She hid all the other clothes obviously. She don't want her efforts to waste.

You sigh.

"You are going to be late, dolcezza" this time she can't hide her smirk.

Cursing you give her a quick kiss and run to the school.

She walks calmly to her flowershop. Her legs aren't numb anymore but she is still tired. Even so she feels like she Is walking in clouds.

The smug smile she gives to your fans when they see the marks that you left in her neck can't be stopped by her shyness.

Oh how much she enjoy the envy in their eyes.

She is yours, you are hers.

Her phone is buzzing taking it out she reads the message that her beloved niece have sent her.

"🤢"

"Sorry Bambina, I guessing you saw them? "

"🤮"

"Did you did what i asked you?"

"Yes, Daniela is outside and today is not her laundry day. Now excuse me I need to bleach my brain."

--------–——--------------------------------

When you came back every single client had a particular reaction to you appearance. You have been laughed, scoffed and nodded.

" Ah, problems with a misbehaving kitty?" Well she would have behaved if her partner stopped being so charming. "here this cream work wonders for that injuries"

She is laughing freely in the nursery she was having a blast with all this.

"Thank you, sir" she bets you're so red right now.

"Is nothing dear, I remember when I was younger my beloved Jerry was a jealous and clingy kitty, always wanting to be with me, practically throwing himself at me, fighting with whoever took my attention away" oh? "it was a problem when I had to work, he don't liked being alone that much so I made sure to let him know every night that how much I loved him and that I would never leave his side." OH

That is not a bad idea. God, she is really a pervert.

"Hey what is taking you so much! We're going to be late!" it seems that the kitty never stopped being clingy" Hurry up!

The man in front with you just laughed.

"See, so clingy" She walked silently to you side" Make sure to show your kitten love continously less they want to scratch you up" Good advice but she makes no promises, the man looked at her " Ah, young love " she blushes but smile" I'm coming Jerry!"

" Wisdom of your elders never should be wasted" you flinched, she giggles at your reaction " you should treat your Kitten right.

"I'm gonna start by putting a damn bell on you" you said before grabbing her by her waist.

"What about the Professional image, dolcezza?" She had gotten her way again.

"To hell with it" you kissed her" I need to take good care of my sweet, clingy and jealous kitty.

She was putting a show but the look of the few fans that refuse to take the hint was worth it.

She noticed the crow outside and she kissed you more aggressively.

She would enjoy her time with you. Because now you were hers but the next time it wasn't safe to say you would come back to her.

It will be too much if she sent a video to Miranda?