#pencil skirts that cut off a lil before the knee...man ..

[prettyboykatsuki]

why do your fem readers always wear pencil skirts fang.. are you weird about them in a way i need to alert lamb about…

PLEASE LEAVE ME BEEEE FDXHMGJSD

[just-another-muddafucka]

unwanted visitor*

pairing: max cady x fem!reader

summary: a good deed turns out to be the worst choice you could possibly make... maybe.

warnings: explicit language, slight dub con, fingering, choking, face slapping, predatory vibes, huuggeee age gap (but reader is of legal age), daddy kink

When the last bell of the day rang, you were more than happy to pack your books into your bag and hurriedly get out from behind your desk. All of your frustrations washed away the minute the final bell rang throughout the school. You walked with a pep in your step down the hall and to the left where your locker was. Quickly putting in your combination, you unlocked the metal barrier and shoved your history textbook inside and huffed as you fixed your lopsided headband that kept your hairs away from your face.

“Y/N!” You heard your friends squeal your name as they ran to you, all laughing and talking at the same time.

“If you’re gonna ask me to go to the mall again, the answer is gonna be no,” you giggled and held your binder to your chest as you shut your locker and made sure to rearrange the numbers. “My parents are coming home tomorrow and I have to clean up and stuff.”

“And stuff? What’re you gonna do? Rub one out the last night you’re alone?” Alana, the loud and dirty one of the group, questioned you and made an obscene gesture with her fist and mouth.

You shoved her and covered your blushing face with your binder as your friends giggled around you. You rolled your eyes at her filthy antics and walked in between them. “I’ll let you guys know though, okay? I have studying to do and food shopping.”

“Oh, let me know when you go food shopping. I need to get more snacks,” Beverly, the insanely smart and talkative one of the group, told you as she fixed her glasses on her nose. “I ate too much of everything again and my parents are gonna freak when they see how empty the cabinets are. Especially my dads secret stash. No wonder he keeps a lock and key.”

You and Alana shared a look and laughed. Alana wrapped an arm around Beverly’s shoulders as you three made your way out of the school. There was still a bustle of students here and there - some waiting for the bus, some waiting for their parents, others just loitering. Alana and Beverly were chatting amongst themselves, and judging from the way Bev was sucking her teeth annoyingly, Alana was probably saying something dirty or poking fun. You were in your own head as your eyes scanned your surroundings.

They suddenly landed on a beautiful red mustang parked across the street. The man in the driver’s seat was significantly older than you. You weren’t sure if he was a parent or a teacher, but his eyes never left yours the minute you spotted him. A nudge to your arm brought you back down to earth and you quickly turned your head to focus on your two friends.

“We’re gonna head to the arcade. Danny’s supposed to meet us there. You sure you don’t wanna come?” Bev asked you, furrowing her eyebrows and biting down on her bottom lip with her brace covered teeth.

“I’m sure,” you smiles and fixed the straps of your bag and held your binder tighter to your chest as you took a few steps back. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

They both bid you a goodbye and went around the school to where the football field was to cut a shortcut. You trotted down the steps and began to make your way home which was just a 10 minute walk, 6 minutes tops if you ran. But do you really wanna run in a skirt? You shook your head to yourself and giggled softly. The air was so fresh and clean. It rained last night and today was a beautiful morning. The smell of grass and flowers overwhelmed your senses as the birds chirped around you.

“Excuse me, young lady,” you heard a gentle southern voice call at you from beside.

You gasped and looked to the side and saw the man you had seen before. He rests one elbow on the the drivers side window as the other rests on the steering wheel. He was wearing a sailor’s hat and had a Hawaiian shirt on, only the top three buttons undone, showcasing a hairy and well built chest with tattoos. He had some on his arms as well and it gave you butterflies. He lowered his sunglasses just a smidge and gave you a charming smile. Up close, he looked so handsome and rugged.

“I sincerely apologize for startling you,” he told you. “Do you, by any chance, know where Collins Avenue is? I’m afraid I don’t have a map and I have a doctor’s appointment.” He seemed so friendly. It made you feel at ease. You stepped closer to the car and looked down the street, missing the way his eyes roamed you up and down.

“You’re gonna go down that street here. And then when you’re about to pass that yellow house, you’re gonna make a right. And then there’s gonna be a blue house at the corner, then you’re gonna wanna make a left and then keep going straight!” You told the directions and gave him a bashful smile, hugging your binder closer to your chest again. “Do you get it, mister?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, darlin,” he huffed and licked his lips, sucking his teeth and tapping his thump against the steering wheel.

“Well, I can draw it out for you if you’d like? I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand,” you giggled quietly, making the man smirk as he bit his lip.

“Would you like to take a seat inside so you’re more comfortable?” He offered and unlocked the doors of his car.

“I’m not allowed to get into cars with strangers, mister,” you told him softly, nervously biting your lip.

“Well look at how smart you are!” He praised you, causing your cheeks to blush pink. He didn’t miss that and grinned wolfishly. “My name is Max Cady. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him, taking a small step towards the car when he outstretched his hand to shake yours. His hand was so much bigger than yours, fingers long and veins protruding on his hand and arm. You swallowed down a whimper at the touch.

“See, now we ain’t strangers anymore,” he winked at you, laughing quietly as you looked down. “I promise you, I’m a respectful man and you seem like a lovely lil lady.” He fingers tapped against his thigh as his knee started to bob, a sign of impatience. But he needed to get you to trust him. He needed to simply wait it out until it was the right time. When your hand touched the handle, something inside of him jumped for joy. “There we go!”

You opened your binder and turned to a clean sheet of paper, pulling out a pencil from its pocket and beginning to draw an outline of where Max needed to go. You can feel his eyes on you as you neatly scribbled down street signs and little squares as houses. His scent suddenly filled your senses. The cologne he was wearing smelled so intoxicating. You wanted to bury your nose in his neck to keep that scent around you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together under your binder, hoping he didn’t realize your squirming. Oh, but he did. His eyes trailed down to look at the exposed skin hidden under your pink checkered skirt, your white thigh highs fitting so snug around you. It looked so soft and supple. He needed to squeeze your flesh and sink his teeth into them to leave his mark. He suddenly wonders if you bruise easily.

“So, you go to this school here?” Max asks you, wanting to make small talk to keep you longer. “I hear it’s the last month before summer.”

“Yes, I do! It’s my last year too, and then I go to college,” you beamed with excitement and he almost found it adorable. “I can’t wait. It’s gonna be so exciting.”

“No kiddin’. What’re you studying?” He licked his lips and looked at your neck and collarbones, suddenly wondering what you’d taste like if he trailed his tounge across. How long would he have to choke you to make you pass out?

“English! I wanna be a writer,” you gave him a shy smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled back at you. Man, was he handsome. “I never asked where you’re from, Max. I recognized your accent.”

“Oh, just a lil town up in Georgia,” he shrugged. “Nothin’ too special, I guess.”

“Georgia? I heard they have great peaches up there. I always wanted to go to a peach farm,” you pouted.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” His voice dropped down to a low baritone hum as he moved closer to you, the heat of just him engulfing you like flames. His breath tickled your ear. “They ain’t that good.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and covered your mouth with your palm. Max chuckles to himself and elbows you lightly. Your skin was soft. His hands twitched as he moved back to his spot. And what perfume were you wearing? It smelled like strawberries and rose water.

“Um, here you go, sir - Max!” You handed him the paper and closed your binder after putting your pencil away. “If you just follow those directions, you’d be out on the main street and then the doctor’s office should be around there. I promise, you won’t get lost.”

“Well, since you’ve been such a lovely samaritan, I do believe you deserve a reward,” he tells you and reaches over to open the glove compartment, the back of his hand briefly touching your knees as he rifles around and pulls out a heart shaped lollipop. “Somethin’ sweet for a sweet peach.”

You blushed and took the lollipop with a soft thank you, sir. You unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, immediately letting out a soft moan, not even realizing it as you suckle and lick. Max never once took his eyes off you. His face changed into one of seriousness. He need to have you. And if he couldn’t right now, he’d find a way. When you went to look at him, he immediately gave you that charming smile of his.

“How about I take you home? You’ve been so good to me and I would just feel so bad letting you walk alone out here,” he told you and laid a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down as he looked into your eyes. Almost hypnotized, you nodded. “Where do you live, peach?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When Max stopped in front of your house, he took notice of the absence of cars in the driveway. You turned in your seat and gave him a blushing smile. He rests his arm on the seats behind him and spreads his thighs comfortably. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes look down before quickly looking into his again.

“Thank you for the ride, Max. I do hope you get to the doctors office safely,” you told him gently, leaning over the console to give his stubbly cheek a kiss, once more smelling that cologne.

“Pleasure’s all mine, peach,” he grins and tips his hat to you like a gentleman, savoring the little giggles that escape your red tinted lips that was from the lollipop.

He watches as you exit the car, waving back at you as you walk up the long walkway that leads to the steps. When you reach the top, you unlock the door, turning back once more to wave at Max. He gives you a wink as you shut the door. His smile drops from his face at an instant as he puts his car into drive and parks a few houses down. All he has to do is wait now.

When you get inside the house, you drop your bag down with a sigh and envelope the silence that fills up every room. You hated silence with such a passion. It was so quiet, yet so loud at the same damn time. You needed excitement and wonder and boisterous adventures. You trudged up the carpet steps and enter your lonely room. Tugging off your shoes, you neatly put them back in the empty space under your bed, pushing them back just a tad so your bedsheets cover them. You remove your headband and run your fingers through your hair. You sat down on the edge of your bed with a sigh. Coming home to an empty house was the worst feeling you ever felt.

“I need a dog,” you mumbled to yourself and walked over to the radio that sat on your windowsill, sliding in your favorite tape of Queen and smiling happily again when Somebody To Love came on. You hummed along to the lyrics and began to pick up any dirty laundry lying around. You had to make sure the bathroom was in tact as well before your parents came home. You made a mental list in your head of things you needed to do as you left your room and entered the small laundry room just beside yours. You loaded the washer, poured in a small cup of detergent, and turned the novel so that it would start rotating the clothes around.

You walked down the steps and entered the guest bathroom that was adjacent to the back door. You put your handle on the knob and turned it to make sure it was still locked before you left for school and after you came home. Just as you walked down the hallway to check the front door, the familiar Hawaiian shirt caught you off guard in your kitchen. You gasped and pressed your back against the walk beside the steps. Max Cady was standing in your kitchen eating an apple from your bowl of fruits.

“You should learn how to lock your doors, honey,” he tells you, taking another bite out of the apple as he motions with his hand around. “I mean, anybody can just walk in.”

“Wha-What’re you doing here, sir?” You whispered helplessly, feeling as thought you’re about to collapse just from how fast your heart is beating. “My parents will be home a-any minute, you need to go.”

“The calendar says otherwise,” he tells you condescendingly and steps in front of said calendar. He points to a circled date that was tomorrow and reads aloud, “Mom and dad come back.” He turns back to you, seeing the evident fear in your ears and the tremble in your body. “Now, why on earth would you go and lie about somethin’ like that? Your parents taught you about strangers, but I guess they ain’t teachin’ you about lying.”

A small tear rolls down your cheek as you try to muster up a response, but all that comes out is a feeble, “Please.”

Max sets the apple down on the countertop and begins to stalk towards you just as you make a mad dash for the front door. You swing it open just when his strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the ground and throwing you back down behind him, causing you to scream and fall on your hands and knees. He slams the door and chases you up the stairs as you helplessly crawl. You sobbed and fought at his rough hands as they grab your arms to slam you against the wall, making one of the picture frams fall onto the ground. You cried and clawed at his skin, trying to smack his face to catch him off guard.

“Get over here,” he growls and enters your room, throwing you onto the bed and slamming the door shut with his foot. “I do believe you need to learn some manners.”

You cried and hiccuped as you hugged your knees to your chest, desperately holding onto them as grabbed onto your pillows as well. You watched with tear filled eyes as Max turns off your radio. He gets on his knees on your bed. You helplessly shake your head and cried out when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you down onto your back, causing your sheets to come undone and your stuffed animals to become disheveled.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered and closed your eyes tight, feeling his nose against your damp cheek as he chuckles in your ear.

“Kill you? Oh honey, I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he tells you, his southern drawl becoming thicker. He sits up straight, looking down your body and at how your thighs are trembling, your skirt pooled around your hips to show your tight gray panties. “Look at what we got here.”

You hiccuped and fearfully opened your eyes to see him staring down between your thighs with such hunger. You go to close them, but he smacks your thigh with such force that it makes you cry out. You rub at that sensitive and pained flesh, suddenly wishing that you never interacted with the man. He grabs your blouse and rips it apart, your buttons flying everywhere. You hear some clatter onto the ground as you lay helpless under him.

“I don’t want to hurt your pretty lil self, so how about you just cooperate, hm?” Max sternly tells you, pointing a finger down at you as if scolding a child. When you let out a small, “okay,” he nods in approval. “Now, have you ever been touched by a man?” You shake your head no. “You ever been touched by a woman?” You shook your head no. “You ever touch yourself?” You shook your head no once again. He laughs to himself and rubs a hand down his jaw. “You shittin’ me?”

“No sir,” you weakly whisper. “I’ve been saving myself.” You jump from his boisterous laugh. “What?”

“Well, I never thought of you to be such a holy girl.” His fingers gripped your thighs and he groaned as he saw the flesh turn white before pink. “Sweet, little innocent thing, hm?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as his fingers moved further down until they stopped at the rim of your panties. “W-What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Well, I wanna choke the life out of you and destroy every inch of this body of yours, but I’m a gentleman,” he grins and tips his hat before putting it to the side. “I like you, Y/N, and I think we’re gonna get along just nicely.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, sliding the blade under the fabric of your panties and lifting up in quick succession as he rips the fabric out from under you. He whistles and licks his lips as he first sees your bare cunt.

“Freshly shaved, just how I like ‘em,” he grins and rubs his fingers against the lips of your private parts. You jumped from the foreign feeling and gasped, thighs trembling to fall shut as he applies pressure to the swelling button hidden beneath your lips. “Thatta girl. Just let daddy do what’s best for you, hm?” He forces your thighs further apart and notices a small string of arousal sliding out of your tight hole. “What do we have here?”

You’re nervously panting as you play with the locket around your neck. Max slides his fingers to scoop up slme of your slick and shows it off to you with a filthy smile, spreading his fingers lewdly to show you the strings of arousal that look like saliva.

“I-I don’t know what that is,” you softly tell him. “And I don’t want to know. So can you please leave me alone, sir.” More tears filled your eyes as he laughed at your pathetic attempt.

“Darlin’, we’re just getting started,” he tells you and suddenly roughly shoves in his middle and ring fingers inside your tight cunt, laughing maniacally at the way you scream out from the painful intrusion. “That’s what I like to hear!”

You try to shut your thighs, but his large body and his arm between your legs stop you from doing so. He reaches over and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing and forcing you further down ontk the bed. You cough and grab onto his forearm, digging your nails into his tattooed and hairy skin. You kick your feet out as he begins to move his fingers in and out of you in quick succession. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to distract yourself. But every single one of your thoughts are violated by Max. He squeezes your throat much harder than the last, relishing your weak gasps for air and the wet sloshing of his fingers inside your virgin pussy.

“You think I didn’t notice those little fuck me eyes looking at me inside the car?” He crooned. He removed his hand from your throat, watching with a hungry expression when you weakly gasp for air, your eyes dazy and unfocused. He slaps your cheek condescendingly, loving the small whimpers that leave your lips as he does so. “You wanted me from the start, little peach.” He leans over with a hand planted in the side of your head. You look up at him, thighs trembling even more as he speeds up his fingers, the tips prodding at this sensitive part inside of you that forces more slick to pour out.

“Mmhmmm,” you whimpered softly and threw your head back as your toes curled in your thigh highs. This feeling was so foreign, yet it felt so good. Max knew what he was doing, and yet you didn’t want him to stop. “Please... daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he grins, crooking his fingers and moving his wrist upward as he ferociously begins to finger fuck you. You gasped and reached down to grab his forearm, but he shakes his head and laughs at your weak attempt.

“Oh G-God!” You squealed, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks burning up as the churning in your stomach envelopes into something bigger and stronger. “I-I feel... I feel... uuhhnnggh.”

“Let it happen,” he growls, slapping you in the face just as you squirt all over his hand and forearm, your juices spilling out onto your bedsheets and his pants. “Look at that!” He laughs as you try to catch your breath.

“Wha-What just happened, Max?” You whispered, feeling so dirty from letting an older man - a stranger - touch you so inappropriately, and you liking it.

“Oh honey, that ain’t nothin’,” he draws out and begins to unbuckle his belt. “We’re just getting started.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

TAGS: Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

@robert-de-niro-only-fans @droogiesanddiscourse @robert-deniro-love

[bird-in-a-cage]

In today’s update of Whoops My Hand Slipped, and 100% inspired by smutty voice in my ear ( @cockasinthebird in case you couldn’t guess) and yesterday’s ravenous ghost talk, I present this. Enjoy!

E | 3157 | dubcon, spectrophilia, dom/sub vibes, choking, public sex, light nipple play

L Train

Steve fiddled with his tie, waiting on the platform for the red line to take him downtown. He was nervous, naturally. Not everyone got their foot in the door at Pierce and Pierce. But he had. And without his father's help. He had a job interview scheduled for ten. Nailing it was of the utmost importance. It meant he could stay in Chicago for one, his tiny uptown apartment with the windowsill lined with small succulent pots. It also would prove to his father that Steve wasn't a screw up. He could finally put his adolescent years and all the horrors they held to bed once and for all. Cut all ties with Hawkins and his family for good.

It was more than a job interview.

The platform gradually filled with commuters as the train pulled into the stop, already full of people. Steve had hoped getting a slightly earlier time would have meant it wouldn’t be so busy. He didn’t really want to have to ride an hour through the city crammed in like the fish in a trawler net he now was. But it would be okay. The journey didn’t matter, only the destination. He found a place to stand near a set of doors, facing outwards to watch the city go by, shifting his messenger bag to his front to keep it safe from pickpockets.

Steve knew there weren’t any, but his small town brain wouldn’t let those kinds of prejudices die. 

The doors slipped close in front of Steve’s face before the train shuddered and shunted back into life, setting off at a pace through the city. Steve sighed silently to himself and ran through potential questions he might be asked, hands moving between playing with the strap of his bag, to the end of his tie, to brushing through the hair by his ears. All nervous habits and ticks. Never able to properly keep still. He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally picturing the interview. Placing himself as smooth and confident, with all the right answers. The total opposite to how he was in reality. Pierce and Pierce didn’t need to know who he really was.

Steve’s eyes flew open when he felt something touch his chest. There was nothing in front of him but the door, locked tight for safety. Maybe he had imagined the first, but the second time around there wasn’t a chance. It felt like a hand, open and splayed, right in the middle of his chest. The pressure of it slowly moving around to cup a pectoral muscle. It was strange to say the least. It didn’t feel like it was over his shirt though. It felt like it was directly against his skin. Steve glanced around. There was a man standing behind him but facing towards the rest of the carriage, nose deep in a folded up paperback. To Steve’s left was a woman in a pencil skirt, a black handbag pinned under her arm, again facing the carriage, focusing on nothing in particular with headphones on. Steve bit his lip before an embarrassing noise could be heard over the rattle of the engine as he felt fingers circling his sensitive nipple. His brain was suddenly spinning into overdrive, trying to work out what was happening and why. It wasn't another commuter and it certainly was far too direct to just be a haphazard breeze.

Mmm aren’t you a pretty one…

Steve felt his nipple being pinched as he probably resembled an owl, frantically looking around for whoever had spoken. But the voice that had floated around his head didn’t look like it came from anyone nearby. No one else was reacting if they had heard anything, or said anything even. It wasn’t a quiet voice either. Someone else would have definitely heard it. Steve hung his head and breathed hard through his nose. Now wasn’t the time for a breakdown, not on the biggest day of his life. Certainly the most important. Maybe that’s why it was happening. Stress and pressure. Steve closed his eyes again, just for a moment.

Nah ah pretty boy, let me see ‘em. You got real nice eyes.

Okay. No. This wasn’t happening. Not at all. Someone was playing a joke. A hideous prank. Steve kept his eyes shut on purpose now, ignoring the voice that was clearly just in his head. Trying to just breathe calmly and regain some form of composure. It lasted all of two seconds before his now hard nipple got another playful pinch. A noise bubbled in his throat that he had to pass off as a small cough.

Come on princess. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…

Steve furrowed his brow at that. What did that mean? He opened his eyes, just a crack, and glanced up from his shoes, nearly screaming when he saw blue eyes and a wicked grin suddenly in front of him in the impossibly small space. Steve blinked in fright and it was gone. Like it had never even been there. Breathing wasn’t helping anymore. Not when he could feel something running through his hair, raking fingers combing it back all the way to the base of his neck. It made Steve shiver down to his toes. He loved having his hair messed with. Even a trip to the salon was a danger for being slightly turned on by the hair wash station.

God what was happening? Why couldn’t anyone else hear this voice? Why did Steve suddenly see crystal blue eyes?  Why was he having a breakdown now?

The hand left his hair and travelled down his spine, skin prickling in its firm wake, causing Steve’s back to arch with it. Down down until one hand became two and cupped his ass almost posessively. Another noise almost made its way out of Steve’s mouth in surprise.

Jesus baby, look at all this now. Goddamn shame for it to be all covered up in a monkey suit...

Was… Was that a complement? Steve shook his head, trying to get the voice to fall out of his ears, maybe shake loose the part of his brain that was shutting down and allowing any of this to happen. Certainly trying to shake away the thought that this actually felt good. That the hands now kneading his ass were actually pretty nice. Wide and definitely firm. Exactly what Steve liked. For a small moment he let himself enjoy it, maybe subconsciously pushing back, just a little, for more. The voice in his ear chuckled almost knowingly before the whole of Steve’s back just felt warm. Unnaturally warm. Stranger than if he was stood halfway under a heating vent or had his back against a radiator.

Let’s see what else you got huh?

The hands worked their way around Steve’s front, around his waist and down. Behind the messenger bag that was now having to hide the beginnings of a semi, through clothes that apparently he may as well not have even been wearing. Steve definitely felt a hand wrap around his cock like it was just out in the open, circlingly tight and giving one sharp tug. A noise bubbled and popped out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop it this time. An embarrassingly high moan because okay that really did feel good. Steve felt the flush burn his cheeks, keeping his head down towards the floor in the vain hope that no one was paying attention enough to know it was him. All lost in their own pre-work worlds. The voice laughed almost cruel in Steve’s ear. Mocking in a way as the phantom hand started playing more, working Steve into complete hardness, tenting his best work pants and pressing into the leather of the bag. Steve’s grip on the strap of it was turning his knuckles white.

God you’ve got a nice cock princess. Real nice. You got the whole package huh?

The whimper that left Steve’s bitten lips was shameful. He didn’t want this, didn’t ask for this, didn’t even know what was happening but, he didn’t really want it to stop. It had been a good few months since anything had touched him, aside from himself. And whatever was working him over felt so good. Practiced even. Different from Steve touching himself, tighter and rougher, but still good. He dug his feet firmer into the solid flood to stop his hips rocking into the feeling that was taking over, sweat starting to bead on his temples.

Mmm don’t be shy now baby. Bet a sweet lil’ thing like you just loves being all full…

Steve swallowed thick. What could that possibly even mean in this context? In the middle of morning rush hour on the busiest train Steve had ever been on in his life, shunting from station to station through Chicago towards the biggest opportunity he’d ever gotten, being groped and touched all over by an apparent ghost that just haunted the train? Was this a dream or a nightmare? Steve couldn’t even tell anymore. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was still in bed, having a stress dream. His alarm clock would blare any minute, he’d open his eyes and this would all be over. He’d be staring over at the closed bedroom door and not down at his shiny black shoes. He wouldn’t be feeling a small damp spot growing in his briefs. He wouldn’t feel the phantom hand leave his cock and start rolling his balls around slowly like marbles in a wide palm, and he certainly wouldn’t feel another hand around his throat, forcing his head up off the floor and towards the ceiling. An advert for insurance right there in front of him.

Bet you love suckin’ dick, huh pretty boy? Fuck, just made to take whatever you can get I bet. What I wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around me. Bet you could swallow me all the way down huh? No problem at all. Bet you ain’t had a gag reflex for a long time now...

Steve’s knees were starting to shake. This was all too much. He still wasn’t sure if it was a ghost or the voice of his subconscious ringing loud and true in his head. Because the voice wasn’t lying. Not even a little. The hand left his throat. Steve didn’t want to admit he missed it, feeling something that felt like a thumb press under the hinge of his jaw, fingers achingly close around his windpipe. He screwed his eyes shut, tight, trying to keep breathing and not pant or moan like his body wanted too, especially when the hand returned to his cock, now stroking with careless abandon.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come right in the middle of a subway train in his best suit less than an hour away from the biggest job interview of his life and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

But it wasn’t the stroking that was going to take him over the edge. No. It was the sudden feeling of something blunt and hot pressing up hard against his asshole. His eyes flew open and all he saw was his own reflection in the train doors, a flushed mess sweating out of his own skin like he’d come down with a sudden fever. Steve had enough life experience to know exactly what was going to happen. He couldn’t move from it, there was nowhere to go with everyone packed in like a sardine can. In true honestly he didn’t exactly want to move from it.

You want this baby? I promise it’ll feel so, so good.

Steve could only stare at his own reflection, his own eyes dark with lust and want and god he’d gone completely insane. The hands left his cock and wrapped themselves around his hips. Instinctively Steve arched back, practically presenting. That was his answer. He did want it. He wanted it bad.

Fuckin’ knew it...

The groan Steve heard in his head was sinful. So deep and sexy it was like the soundtrack of a porno playing just for him. But what he felt was even better. So impossibly good. Going from nothing to stretched out and full in just a few short moments with no pain. It was heaven. Steve couldn’t stop the small whimper from his throat even if he wanted too. The man reading the paperback coughed. Annoyed. He’d definitely heard that one. The voice laughed, rocked up and punched the air out of Steve’s lungs, those devilish hands letting go of Steve’s hips and travelling up to his chest again. This time deciding to play with both of his nipples, flicking and twisting and circling around and around. Steve wouldn’t have lips left after all this with how hard he was having to bite them.

He no longer cared what was happening. If he was having a breakdown then so be it, this all felt far too good. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Rock for me baby. Let me know you like it...

The voice was so sultry Steve had no option but to obey, rocking small on the balls of his feet. The voice moaned loud and deep and it just sent pure sparks along Steve’s spine. It definitely felt like something was inside him, something thick stretching him open and fucking him without a care. Steve felt it thrusting in and out, setting a brutal pace straight away that just wouldn’t be possible. God it was incredible. The small wet patch was getting bigger, threatening to leak through and stain, but Steve didn’t have the brain power to care anymore. He shifted his bag ever so slightly over the sensitive head of his cock, using three layers of different materials to his advantage, making his eyes roll back into his head. The voice just laughed and went harder. It was a miracle Steve was still on his feet. Was pretty sure whatever was fucking him was the only thing keeping him upright anymore.

Fuck, look at you. Such a little slut. So desperate for a dick you’ll take anythin’. Ain’t that right princess? Nod for me darlin’, you know I’m right. Say it outloud. I wanna hear it.

Steve bit his lip harder. He couldn’t. That was just too much. That would be admitting that this was good to the world. That wasn’t about to happen. A hand wrapped itself around his throat again, head being dragged back up to the insurance advert, locking eyes with a picture of a smiling woman holding a set of keys. Steve gasped and the grip was tighter this time. The other hand was back around his cock. God he could feel fingers everywhere. Splayed over the expanse of his throat and squeezing. Trailing through his weeping slit, wrapping tight on the strokes up and down then trailing again. The dick fucking him was getting harder somehow, brushing over his prostate with every other thrust. Steve was going to explode. This would be how he died. On the L Train red line. They’d find his corpse with a gaping asshole and drained of every ounce of cum Steve could possibly ever make. No evidence to be found. No motivation for a killer.

Come on pretty boy. Say it. Say you love my cock.

The hand tightened enough for Steve to choke and cough. His brain was swimming. A coil had formed hot in his gut, winding tighter and tighter. Jesus there was no way this was about to happen.

Say it!

“I love you cock…” Steve barely muttered out, gasps and a moan spilling out too. The man with the book coughed again but Steve didn’t care anymore. He was lost in a world of invisible hands and see through dicks and a voice, a deep deep voice that was grunting and panting hot next to his ear. Steve kept rocking back, a deep part of him wanting to just fall to his knees and let this ghost or whatever take him mercilessly.

Yeah you do. Yeah you do. Fuck!

Steve gasped at the feeling of wetness that wasn’t his own, deep inside him. That was extremely real. There was no way it couldn’t be. The ghost kept rocking into him, spilling and apparently milking himself in Steve’s body. He’d never felt so violated before. But it poured pure gasoline on the burning fire. With one more stroke of an invisible hand Steve came in his pants, whimpering like he was about to cry as the world whited out, falling forward to brace his hands on the door so he didn’t just crumble and fall apart. He panted through his nose, deep and hard and heavy. His briefs felt disgusting sticking against his spent cock. The voice laughed breathy, what was probably a nose brushing behind Steve’s ear with apparent affection.

Fuck, that was good. Thanks pretty boy.

And with that everything stopped. Steve was left alone, up against the train doors. The hands and voice totally gone. The only evidence of their presence was buried deep inside him. Steve ran off the train as soon as it pulled into the next station. If it was his he didn’t care. The first lungful of air was bliss. He gulped it down like water in a desert, trying to clear his head, staring at the steel vehicle. If his pants weren’t sticking to him so uncomfortably Steve would argue with himself if anything had even happened. 

Blue eyes and that grin flashed through the glass of the doors. They winked and blew Steve a kiss before the train set off again, having to keep time through the city and its next stop.

Steve stayed on the platform for a while. A still beacon in an ocean of moving bodies, mentally trying to process what had happened but he just couldn’t. It was all far too much. Did he really just get fucked by a ghost? No, okay, one thing at a time. Pierce and Pierce. Job interview. He could ditch his briefs and try and block out this morning, he could still try. Piecing together his surroundings the office was only a few blocks away. He still had time to make it. Focus on one thing and one thing only. Don’t let them see the crazy. Prove everyone wrong.

Determined, Steve pressed on. His body felt truly fucked. His insides just felt wrong and out of place in a way that would be amazing if it wasn’t down to a spector’s wicked work. No. Don’t focus on that. Professional, not crazy. It was two blocks down that Steve came to a stop from his march, a sinking realisation setting in. Regardless of the outcome, he’d need to get the same train home. And that thought didn’t fill him with as much dread as it should have.

[corvidshipping]

modern au red/milo dump while i try to get myself together to answer asks nd work on ATJ:

(tw for alcohol mentions near the end, also this is an EXTREMELY long post, its so long that even after i split it into categorized sections each section could be its own post)

CLOTHING

milo absolutely has no sense of fashion. i feel like this is basically canon - for the styles at the time, he dresses fairly basic, mostly focused on looking put together for his job (definitely dresses aimed more towards how he would like to be treated by his peers, despite his actual position - then again our best example outside of the expedition is when he's about to deliver what he considers the most important presentation of his life, so who knows, maybe he usually dresses like a slob). aside from that his main concern seems like practicality and comfort. his wardrobe is dominated by earth tones - beiges and greens set with white and greys. all of that taken into account, i can see him dressing like this in a more modern era:

basically- a lot of cardigans, usually collared shirts or comfortable turtlenecks (since he does still occupy a research position at the smithsonian, even if only in title), big ol' coats, khakis and chinos and slightly stiff dress pants complete with ironed creases. i can see him wearing similar clothes outside work, just more comfortable - jeans and knitted shirts, henleys, more turtlenecks, and comfy cardigans over short sleeved shirts. i dont really see him wearing a lot of prints, i think he'd veer more towards solid clothes in lighter colors, but maybe he has a few. hes definitely the kind of guy to think of wearing the single graphic tee he owns as "bold and wild".

im very married to the idea of him wearing converse though. i cant explain it. milo in converse keeps me going in this world

hes kind of broke so i think maybe he got the converse secondhand maybe? or a gift of some kind. aside from the converse i can see him wearing a lot of oxfords and maybe wingtips

i want to see him in a hawaiian shirt so bad. i am losing it at this thought. he buttons it all the way up to his neck like someones awkward dad. milo wears a hawaiian shirt to "let loose". he wears it with like, khakis. or knee length jorts AHHHHDJHDSGJHDSJGh

a tie??? does he wear his hawaiian shirt with a tie???? does he think it makes it look cooler?????????? i am sobbing

red is the COMPLETE opposite. in the canon 1914 setting, red is already very rebellious for an AFAB person of their era- theyre openly a suffragette, they frequently refuse to wear skirts even in public and dress in mens clothes even before they were openly nonbinary, despite not being accepted into the male-dominated research fields and colleges they continue to educate themself with or without help, they purposely aim for an "unfeminine" silhouette when they dress, refuse to wear corsets, etc. (spoiler alert- there's a clear reason they get on so well with audrey in ATJ)

theyre also easily mistaken by people that didnt know them prior to their transition for being just a very small/young cis man- even though they canonically have a very soft "traditionally feminine" face

so basically, in any era theyre set into, red is always gonna aim to be ahead of the curve- both in their personal beliefs and practices and in their fashion. theyre also very androgynous in their clothes, although they tend to aim a bit more masculine (thats partially due to the era though, and having been forced into skirts exclusively for their entire life- i think in a modern setting where its more acceptable for AFABs to dress and act in a less hyperfeminine way, theyd be more okay with a fluidity in their gender presentation).

all that taken into account, i can see them dressing like this:

lots of baggy clothes, especially baggy jackets and shirts. they like loose fitting high waisted pants like JNCO jeans, cargo pants, etc but they arent averse to pencil legs. they rarely ever wear skinny jeans or drainpipes though. messy hair is a lifestyle for them- their haircut is definitely home-done

you know how in BICSTLY they used to have really long hair before they cut it? in a modern au i can see them impulsively doing the cut at like 3am and waking milo up at his door cause they screwed it up and he ends up having to help fix it (even though hes literally no better at cutting hair than them. worse even)

definitely have an undercut bob- bob on top, shaven on the bottom layer. they might end up growing their hair into a mullet at some point if they get bored. probably dyes their hair all the time out of boredom and then regrets it later and has to use dye remover.

lots of ripped tights and fishnets, leggings with big loose crop tops, big hoodies, safety pin jewelry and homemade jewelry. maybe some sticknpokes.

all that said, they still know how to dress in a professional situation. since its a modern au theres really nothing holding them back from the education and career they canonically want but cant get in the 1910s, so i imagine they would work at the smithsonian as well, maybe their father helped them get the job? potentially in that case they might be his assistant- after all, he trusts their opinion on artifacts more than anyone else's.

at work you can still very much see the punk/skater/grunge/goth style but its more understated- turtlenecks, high waisted and looser dress pants, lots of black, slightly unbuttoned collared shirts with a loose overcoat and no tie

since i elaborated on milos shoe taste i may as well elaborate on red's: they definitely wear converse as well, probably newer than milo's since their father is fairly wealthy and they can afford it. they also have a doc martens collection. they have a pair of demonias but they never wear them and milo is really the only person to even know they own them, let alone see them in them. they really dont like to wear heels much, but they own a few just to play around with. they have a bad habit of wearing any laced shoes untied, but they never trip over the laces. they also use lace code- their most-worn Docs have purple laces on the right foot and yellow on the left. some of their Docs have (reclaimed) pink laces.

has an extensive pin collection including feminism pins, anti-racism pins, punk-related pins, skater-related pins, and pop culture pins (80s music, modern music, old movies, etc)

MUSIC TASTE

milo's into a lot of older music- stuff from the 50s is his favorite. really into jazz and ballroom style stuff. his favorite band is queen, i think- he likes the old-fashioned sound, the jazz-chamber-ballroom influences, the diversity of their lyrics, and the complexity between the guitar riffs, the basslines, and freddie's vocal runs as well as the vocal harmonies.

sometimes he hums good old fashioned lover boy to red and they two-step in the living room in their pajamas :pleading:

also very into rush. yes, he is a rush guy :pensive:.

also listens to a surprising amount of lo-fi? he really likes stuff that remixes older music with hip hop and lofi elements, like earl grey. nearly exclusively into instrumental stuff but also very into louie zong. he listens to it while he works a lot.

knows a lotttt of foreign artists, especially niche ones. fuckin LOVES casiopea

red's spotify is a goddamn mess. everything from 2000s emo, to classic 70s punk, to post-punk and new wave, to 90s pop, to rap. they cant be easily classified at all

their favorite bands are oingo boingo, prince, queen (they listen to a lot of their harder-rock music, but milo knows theyre into the ballads too. theyll never tell anyone else though), doja cat, lil nas, fall out boy, and billie eilish.

red recites the intro monologue to lets go crazy very seriously to make milo laugh, sometimes. they get very into it with their facial expressions. sometimes it devolves into a full air guitar/keyboard/drum and wild dancing session. milo does not know how to participate in this but he loves watching them have fun with it. sometimes they pull him off the couch to make him dance with them, though

they are a huge sucker for dark pop, vaporwave, retrowave, EDM, hip hop, emo, punk... etc etc. anything that combines any two or more of those genres in an original or interesting way gets their attention right away

there's a lot of sharing between the two of them- even though their music tastes are so different, they like a lot of the others taste, and theyre always up to listen to whatever their partner is playing.

red is a huge softie, and milo has found them more than once listening to or humming something he was playing for them the other day because it reminded them of him

speaking of which- in the 1914 canon, red can play piano. i think that carries over to a modern au, where they could play piano and by extension keyboard. i like to think they experiment with a lot of instruments but i doubt they ever really mastered any others. maybe theyre okay at drums or bass?

they learned to play and sing teo torriatte for milo, as a surprise. when they first performed it for them, they had everything set up for when he got home from work- the lights were dimmed, they had candles lit around the keyboard, they draped stuff in cloth to make it look pretty, they scattered flower petals around. when milo walked in and saw it all, he almost proposed then and there- the only thing that stopped him was that he would kick himself for the rest of his life if he did that without a ring.

HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES

milo is still an avid chess player in this, but i like to think hes in some kind of groupchat or text or discord server for it. he doesnt necessarily consider any of the others in the chat close friends, but he does know them all by name

he tries to get red into chess but they never really get it

he tells them all about the stuff that goes down in the games and they just. do not understand. but they love listening to him get excited about it anyway

"red you're not gonna BELIEVE this, eddie played an italian game on star today! i thought for sure she would see through it since everyone knows it but she slipped and he beat her in like, 13 moves! i wouldnt have believed it if i hadnt been there!"

"yes sweetie please tell me more" (barely disguised pained expression)

red is a skater and a regular at the skate park by the smithsonian

most regulars there know them by name, they can spot a newbie a mile away

they have a sticker of a broken tv with a skull inside of it on the underside of their board, its become recognized as a symbol of them unofficially

since theyre so regular and have been going there a lot longer than most of the other skaters that frequent the place, a lot of what they say is kind of just accepted as the rules

they have a bad habit of lecturing new kids who show up without knee/elbow pads or helmets at the very least. all the other skaters enforce it too. kids dont end up showing up without protective gear very often after their first visit

they brought a first aid kid and left it there and everyone has kept it stocked pretty well without them having to have much input. its kind of just a communal first aid kit

they once drew the broken tv symbol on the inside of a half-pipe and everyone started calling it red's ramp after that

they also started calling the bowl at the center of the park the Soup Bowl and now thats just accepted as the name. some of the newer kids genuinely thought that it was called that by the park and were shocked when they found out it was just a random nickname red gave it one day

theyve brought milo a few times but hes extremely awkward on his feet and could never really get his balance on a skateboard, and quite frankly red is afraid of what might happen if he tried even a low ramp, so he usually just sits at the rim of the bowl while red skates around

everyone knew he was their boyfriend before they even met him. a few of the regulars called him by name right away. one of them was certain red had brought him before.

but no

they just talk so fuckin much about him that its like they already know him

aside from skateboarding, red is pretty good on rollerskates/blades

they tried to take milo to a roller rink once but it was a disaster and they ended up going home, changing into pajamas, ordering chinese food, and marathoning movies till they fell asleep on the couch together. so not a total loss

theyre both very into movies. red is deep into horror and milo likes indie/art movies and just Cannot handle horror at all, but they both agree on old movies, from the 80s and 90s to like the 30s.

red has shown milo some of the classic horror movies and the niche old ones (from like the 40s) since theyre not difficult to stomach

every so often when red brings up wanting to see a horror movie milo is like "aw babe we can watch that tonight i promise it wont be bad" and he genuinely thinks he can handle it this time

he cant

he never can

it is always a lie

red ends up holding him every time and talking him to sleep, but it thankfully never causes like a major panic attack or anything like that

they love going to museums together, of all kinds. they love art museums. they also go to aquariums and aviaries

sometimes they like to go to other history museums and criticise the veracity or accuracy of exhibits/translations, all in good fun of course. theyre never actually being mean about it

SIDENOTES/UNCATEGORIZED

they both used to work at starbucks, when they were younger and before they worked at the smithsonian. they worked at separate stores 2 blocks from each other.

milo cant stand soda or carbonated drinks, red can and will chug a java monster in order to survive a long workday if they must. milo is constantly concerned for their health and wellbeing

they r both lightweights when it comes to drinking. they can split a six pack and both be falling-over drunk by the end of the night.

given the changes in beauty standards people DEFINITELY think milo is more attractive than they would in 1914. cmon. hes a lil twinky nerd. you think people wont eat that up?

he never really catches onto the flirting much though

did u think i would forget ki/da and the others? youd be wrong.

i simultaneously like the idea of something similar to the movie happening, but also just like... ki/da just being a regular person living on the surface. in either case they r all friends still

in the case of ki/da just being a regular person on the surface- i like the idea of atl/antis just being A Place in this au, maybe its a bit of a closed off country though? like, not many foreigners live there and to get there you basically need to be there as a diplomat or a scholar

maybe ki/da visits DC as a diplomat? she is a princess, after all

red meets audrey online cause they both yell at the same misogynistic asshole on twitter

they exchange discord names in the replies of the tweet and tell the guy not to interrupt them while theyre talking in his replies

i like to think red and milo are selected to go on an academic visit to atl/antis (to learn about the culture, with permission of the king), and audrey ends up as the mechanic on the ship during the visit and theyre like (spiderman pointing meme) at each other

red and audrey have so many inside jokes that they basically speak a different language. milo gets some of the terms from context and pop culture (they use "so very" in real life- as in "wow, that shirt is so very.") but he is hopeless to learn all of it

one of their inside jokes is any variation of "milo hot girl summer" and they REFUSE to explain it to him no matter how much he begs

milo wears that iconique tank top on the ship and they say it literally any time he bends over, picks anything up, reaches for anything, moves, BREATHES. he is bewildered and at this point concerned

(in truth, the joke came from red taking a really blurry picture of him in a short sleeve shirt where he looked pretty cute and captioned it "milo's having a hot girl summer rn" and they just could not stop repeating it once audrey met him IRL)

they have a minecraft world. i do like to believe that every so often vinny finds a way in- theyre never sure how- and griefs the shit out of them by blowing up EVERY. monument.

this post is getting long bc im enraptured by the idea of an atl/antis modern au so im cutting it off here but expect WAY MORE later

[freddy-ryland]

scene ii: the art of memory

turn up the volume I'm not listening the dialogue is static and I start to panic and the music fades

The dull roar in her ears was familiar as she stepped out of the glowing green flames, hurrying forward a few steps to make room for the tell-tale whoosh of a similar traveler. The teenager was sure to wipe her sooty palms off on a handkerchief, straightening out her jumper before approaching the visitor's desk. There was a long winding line behind the little gate, stamped with the Ministry Seal, but she sidestepped it and waited for the man to wave at her. 

There were a few noises of annoyance as Freddy cleared the line, but a singular glare from the attending Auror shut them up. Freddy patted Amara Bone's arm, who flushed and continued to stand ramrod straight. The elder Hufflepuff had always been kind to her at Hogwarts; she'd woken up with Amara carrying her back to her room many times after passing out around the castle. Amara always cut a surprisingly imposing figure, despite being one of the softest people Freddy had met in her life.

"Another top-secret meeting with our magical mimes eh Lil' Ry," The man had a shockingly bad case of bedhead and a lazy eye, he told her tales that he popped the eye out during the war to scare Snatchers so he could get the drop on them in a fight, and it never healed right. "Thinkin' that you might as well become a mime yourself, missus."

"Gerald, I think I've had my fill of our devout Unspeakables," she flashed him a smile as he continued to process her wand, a rigid formality, "and I've every intention to make a grand escape of them once I graduate."

"A grand escape, eh?"

"Oh yes, it's all very planned out, our lovely chats will come to an end. I'll be sure to send you a postcard." She had a map of every place she wanted to see, already marked up and pasted to her wall.

"You do that girl," Gerald smiled, he was missing his front tooth, and it always gave his words a distinctive whistling sound, "you get outta here an' far away from those mimes before they trap you in their circus."

"I was thinking of joining the circus actually, as a fortune-teller. Get some real-world experiences," Freddy grinned, "though I have plenty of experience working with mimes and clowns." Gerald's whistling laugh followed her through the marbled Atrium as she squeezed by, fixating her visitor's badge to the front of her sweater. 

More than a few ministry workers recognized her, between Micah and Uncle Kinglsey and her Mum being the Healer for the rich and pure, Freddy had been around these halls since she was born. Most offered small smiles and mayne some gently awkward small talk and returned to their lives. An older red-haired woman held the elevator door open for her as Freddy thanked her profusely, having nearly missed it after being waylaid by some friend-of-Mom's-patients-nephew. It wasn't unusual to see teenagers at the Ministry, between internships and family, but it was unusual to see 'Department of Mysteries' embossed on her visitor's badge. It earned her a few looks on the crowded elevator so Freddy simply smiled and watched the arrow tick. Slowly the overfilled elevator began to empty until it was just Freddy left. Kicking her heels against the ground, the teenager started to gently sweat under her loose top, a pit opening as she watched the arrow tick down and down towards 9.

Finally, the door opened, and the Hufflepuff stepped out into the Atrium, a cold desolate place. The floors were disconcertingly white, the kind of white that reminds you of dying, shined to such a high polish that Freddy could see up her own skirt. The walls were covered in etched runes and spells in Latin, Greek and possibly more than a few ancient, dead languages. There were no portraits adorning the sparse walls, only four statues in each corner of the room, all of which were humans in some sort of distorted way. Unspeakable Hawkins once told her they were reminders of how the human soul can twist when experimenting with unknown magic, a warning of sorts to the workers. A reminder. One she didn't need as Freddy looked away from the child chimera hybrid writhing on the ground below the impatient glare of an older woman who held a gnarled rod above it’s body. There was a distinctive clicking noise that was the only sound in the room, and Freddy moved towards it, keeping a careful eye on the statues. 

The Hufflepuff hated when they moved, or decided to watch her.

A woman sat behind a similarly Spartan desk, typing away and glaring at the man sitting at the lone mid-century chair that looks like a child's under his bulk and stature. His shock of royal purple and gold robes were dazzlingly out of place in this room, and as the receptionist sniffed at Freddy in her voiceless greeting, Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up. His lips pulled into a comfortingly wide smile.

"Uncle King?" Freddy hurried across the marble, taking care not to slip on the slick surface, "what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to check on your progress with Madame Basnet--"

"Unspeakable Basnet, Mr. Shacklebolt," the receptionist, Alisha snapped, her box braids whipping around her head so she could level a cold glare at him, "do remember her title, Sir." The clack! clack! clack! continued it's metronome and paper continued to feed into it with twitches of her pinky.

"Forgive me, Madame Kieta," his grin might’ve been charming to anyone else but the living statue at the desk. 

Her face pinched returning to her typing, the clack of the typewriter going faster as the door in front of them began to open. Freddy never understood how she opened it when her fingers never left the typewriter. "Mr. Shacklebolt has already taken his Vow of Silence, he may enter. As for you, Ms. Ryland, the statues will tell if you've been following your end of the contract."

Following her end of the contract, a contract she took when she was still a child and was somehow so binding it made her keep having to coming here every goddamn week. Just the notion of still being forced by a decade old scrap of parchment was enough to make her want to cuss Ms. Kieta out. 

But, Uncle Kingsley held his arm out, and in the fashion of any proper young woman of magical society, she took it with a gentle bob of her knees. Long schooled into her by her Mum. She kept her mouth shut, teeth grinding on sharp words until they became soft powder. 

The statue from the corner crawled over as they crossed the invisible barrier between the rest of the world and the Department of Mysteries. It was an eyeless thing, mouth carved open and gapping with marble streaks of drool. Truly it would’ve been an impressive piece of art if it wasn’t so gruesome. Its movement caused a grinding sound of stone on stone; the magicked creature prowled around her ankles before coming up behind her shoulder.

Freddy stood stock still, eyes screwing tight. She'd seen what happened when someone broke their Silence Vows, and the statue found it. The teen remembered how fast they moved and the high-pitched whistling sound they made for an alarm. She remembered how the woman's skull cracked when marble met marble with a body between. Freddy had been tugged in by Unspeakable Ellie, and sat down with comforting head pats from folk who didn’t know how to pet a cat without being constipated.

The teenager let out a sigh, not unlike a balloon, as the statue nudged her hand, cold and hard, before retreating to its sentry position in the corner.

"Horrible creatures," Kingsley whispered; his knuckles were white, and the bulge of his biceps were stone beneath her tightened grip, "wholly unnecessary for someone of your position." For all that he was a war hero her Uncle always did take far too much pride in their family position at the Ministry, but that was just pureblood upbringing for you. 

"The Department must have their protections, even from someone overly familiar."

Kingsley made a noise of disapproval before they entered the real Atrium. The place was a madhouse in truth, positively Frankenstienan compared to the cold room they just left. Messenger papers were flying above their heads and the distant sound of a boom. Desks were smashed together while massive runes covered thick paper; one desk was dedicated to writing implements -- quill, pen, pencil, charcoal, blood ink, unicorn blood ink, paint, chalk. In addition, there was a large bookcase stretching from floor to ceiling and filled to bursting with papers, books, and more than a few stone tablets. 

Unspeakable Hawkins was rushed past, jostling a cauldron and a papyrus scroll. He offered a cursorary wave before cursing as he tripped over a series of tangled wires. In a distant corner, Freddy noted a man talking to himself, Keith? Kai? Kyle? She couldn't remember his name, nor what they spoke of, nor anything about him. His name started with a 'K,' and he always looked half beaten to death with exhaustion. Unspeakable Ellie (who refused her surname for security purposes) was orchestrating a jostling crowd of marmosets, succulents, several hummingbirds, and a single cacti in a floating box headed towards a door marked with green. Freddy could see the bone thorns on her shoulders and arms peeking between the folds of her bulky Unspeakable robe even from this distance. There were doors all around them, moving in and out of existence. It reminded Freddy remarkably of Lib-Con, without the fun of it. Only hurried, furious magical workings, the scent of stale coffee and the ambiance of lab rats on a wheel chasing only certain death via science (or magic). The doors that led to the various Halls of Magic were locked to her personally, but employees busted in and out at breakneck pace. The smaller doors belonged to offices and various other tinkering workshops where booms and clangs shook the floor and no-one batted a single eyelash. It was an orchestra of chaos, with no conductor keeping track, time or tempo.

Above all the noise Cassandra Basnet walked like a whisper, in a tight business uniform that seemed more in place with the Department of Law Enforcement. Not even a single item of turquoise or jade adorned her person, no jangle of obtrusive jewelry or an obnoxious scent of sage or patchouli marked her for a Divination expert like others in the field. There were no stray tea leaves or frog spawn in her pockets, nor a deck of tarot cards in hand. Hair pulled back in such a severe bun that it would make Headmistress McGonagall wince. Yet, even with the power walk of a misandrist girlboss, no one could deny that Unspeakable Basnet is beautiful with her high cheekbones and startlingly green eyes, always decorated with minimal make up and on occasion wire frame glasses. Her walk slowed, dodging desks, the tenseness in her arms softened as she came closer before wrapping Freddy into a familiar hug, tugging her straight from her Uncle's arms.

Freddy tensed but hugged back, politely but wincing as she felt the surprisingly heavyweight of Cassandra's arm. It was a show of dominance, and all parties knew that as she pulled away, keeping a possessive arm around Freddy's shoulders.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, I had no idea you'd be joining our little shindig today." Her smile was florescent bright. "My little crystal didn't send a word."

"I simply wanted to do a quick drop-in. It's so difficult to plan these sorts of things these days."

"Well, I am always happy to have someone of your esteem in our halls. Come to my office. Today is hectic, we've had more than a few breakthroughs, so everyone is very excited. They'd probably want to drag Freddy to show off, and we can't have that." 

Moving through the zoo, they found a deep maroon door that came into the similarly stark office, the wall covered in crystal balls, palmistry books, more than a few photos of Freddy in various states of having a Sight or Vision. Several papers on her desk and a bronze paperweight in the shape of a jaguar, which Freddy knew to be her Patronus. A plush couch pushed up against the wall with a gauzy veil over it to block light. Freddy had passed out many times on that couch after long days working with her powers and had woken up an unknown number of times under a heavy weighted blanket that laid folded up neat against the arm. The desk was minimalistic, and there was a single dark brown leather armchair in front of it, where Kingsley settled his imposing mass into, without so much as an invitation, lounging like a panther.

Freddy dropped herself onto the couch, pulling her sweater tighter around herself, wishing with all her might that a pit would open beneath her butt and drop her from this incredibly awkward situation. 

"So, Mr. Shacklebolt, have you any questions about Freddy's instruction here with me? Concerns?" She kept her voice even and relaxed, puttering around the office shuffling and filing papers, pulling out an all too familiar folder more than three inches thick. Quills marched to their places on the desk with muttered incantations. She was absolute crap at wordless magic for all of Basnet's abilities, and her wandless magic was abysmal. All in all, Freddy regarded her as a less than average witch, but no one could deny that she had some sorta latent power and her mind was a whetstone on which she sharpened it. 

"Just wish to observe as much of Freddy's instruction as possible. Our family has begun to worry that perhaps she has grown stagnant in this environment. Our Freddy may need some more... varied instruction" though his tone remained polite, there was a distinct sense of 'fuck you' in each curated word. She knew her parents were worried, but she hadn't realized how nervous her Mom had asked her esteemed cousin to attend. "You know, young wix, always needing to be pushed in the right direction, teachers can make or break a future."

"Of course, however," Basnet pulled down several more books and smiled, "there is a point where I will have to ask you to leave. Your Vow of Silence only goes so far when it comes to more... delicate magical workings."

"I will respect that; however, if Freddy should ask me to stay, then I'd like to push that envelope."

"We'll see if you have any questions--"

"Believe me," his eyes flickered towards Freddy before back to Basnet, steel entering his voice, "I will speak up."

"Alright, now," Basnet turned her piercing gaze onto the teenager who squirmed in her seat, "Freddy, what did you have for breakfast?"

It seemed a harmless question if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't remember. 

"I believe I had some toast and tea."

"Do you believe or know?"

"Believe," Freddy answered, clipped and strangled.

Basnet noted something down on parchment, "This morning, what time did you wake up?"

"Seven o'clock; I went for a walk with Micah." She could smell the lavender, see the brick they walked on. She was sure of that.

"Where did you walk to?"

"The shops down the road had to pick up some things." The man greeted them, or was it his daughter? What day was it... Tuesday? His daughter then.

"What things? List them."

"Milk, bread, some cleaning supplies for mum. I wanted one of their cookies."

"Flavor?"

"Chocolate." Her fingers ran over the packaging still in her pocket, the embossed words 'Ghirardelli' guiding her answer.

"Good, you had breakfast when you came home?"

"Yes, I had a small vision while we were walking, just a flash."

"What was it?"

"A child screaming."

Basnet frowned, "Just a flash?"

"Just her and the sound, then it went away, lasted less than half a second."

Kingsley was watching Basnet's hands like a hawk, no doubt trying to decipher what she was writing. 

"So you believe you had breakfast, then you came straight here."

"Yes." Freddy shifted her weight.

"Who helped you at the Visitors Gate?" The question came fast, a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tierney whispered 'Your Mom.'

"Gerald, we chatted for a few minutes, nothing crazy. He was asking about my plans for post-grad." she ground her teeth. "I told him I was leaving after graduation, maybe to join a circus." That earned her two eye-rolls from both adults. "I said I had enough experience working with mimes and clowns." Basnet sneered and continued to jot things down.

"Who was the Auror on guard?" 

Freddy stopped.

Fuck. Wait, no, she had seen them. They had waved them through. She knew them, but their faces were blurred. Their robes weren't trimmed with any color.

"I'm not sure of their name!" She answered brightly, "I don't know everyone in the Auror Department." She hoped the lie would stick. 

But Basnet pressed further, steepling her fingers and peering at her over the tips of her chipped manicure. "Who were they, Freddy? Surely you would know most of the Aurors; give me an image, a gender."

"Now it's insulting to assume they use one of the binary genders, Madame Basnet!" Freddy was grasping at straws now, plowing through her memory over and over again. Who was standing there? Had they smiled? Did Freddy touch them? Sometimes the Aurors give her high fives or slip her a candy. She patted her pockets; they were empty except for the cookie wrapper and some lint. So who was at the Gate? "I can't-- I don't. I wasn't paying attention."

"It was Auror Amara Bones," Freddy's mouth went dry, and unshed tears came to her eyes, "but you can't remember that can you? Who held the door open for you on the elevator?" It was a woman, right? Freddy began to tug on the sleeves of her sweater. Maybe it was a man, a tall man? That didn't seem right... "What did you have for dinner last night? Who did you have lunch with last week? What is the name of the delivery boy at your work?" 

Questions began to pile up before Freddy finally shook her head.

"I--"

"What. Is going on." Kingsley stood from his chair, coming around to press a hand to the top of Freddy's head. "What are you badgering her for?"

"Short-term memory loss," Basnet finally said, "her memory it's," she wiggled her fingers, "going wonky for lack of a better term. Her power is a mental one. The more it gets used, the stronger it gets, the more it affects the brain."

"What does that mean?"

"What it means, Mr. Shacklebolt is that Freddy is losing her memories, short blips of time are being lost in her day-to-day life, and your visions are getting stronger, more detailed, aren't they? What did your vision smell like?"

"Piss." It came sharp, "The child was screaming and smelled like pee, the ground was brick, and it was cold out."

"All that in a flash requires a mind to remember. As they get stronger, her daily memories get lost."

"What is your plan?"

Basnet shook her head, "There really isn't one; we can just continue to manage the Visions, work on keeping them longer or stopping them when they start. But the memory loss is a side effect, like her migraines, like her nosebleeds. So it can only be managed, not healed."

"So what you're telling me is that all this is a waste of our goddamn time?" Kingsley was angry now, but his voice boomed from deep within his chest. "She is coming here just to have you manage her? 

"Teach her to handle it better, Mr. Shackle--"

"Get up, Freddy," the teenager flinched as Kingsley seemed to dominate the room, though Basnet sat pristinely and seemingly unaffected at her desk, "we are leaving. I will not have you waste your time as it gets worse."

"Freddy, stay."

The teenager hovered at the couch, her fists tightening under their equal gaze.

"Freddy, you know you can't leave yet, don't you?" Basnet's voice was sugar-sweet, "Your time isn't up today, as agreed upon." 

Persephone chose her place with Hades, she decided to eat the pomegranate seeds, and Freddy desperately wished to throw hers up. 

"Uncle... The contract says 8 hours a week during non-school time. I can't leave yet."

Her Uncle was breathing thunderclouds before sitting back down in the chair, "Continue," he ground out.

Slowly Freddy walked through last week. She could count up at least 20 instances of purely lost memory. More than 50 flashing visions, and 5 of the longer ones. They continued to record and tally up each one until finally they were done at the two-hour mark. Taking a deep breath, Freddy leaned against the back of the couch, her legs pulled up against her chest despite being far too tall for such a position.

"I think that is enough for the day," Basnet finally hummed, "We can make up the hours later this week, perhaps Friday?"

"Sure, I don't work that day."

"Excellent, now I want you to keep a notebook, make notes of when you forget things. Then, start playing some muggle brain games. I've heard Sudoku is helpful, and we'll talk to St. Mungo's about their memory-impaired patients and what they do. So that'll be my homework." Freddy nodded, hopping off the couch and stretching out her tensed limbs as her Uncle stood by the door, opening it.

"Mr. Shacklebolt," the man didn't look at her, "next time, do tell me when you plan on dropping by, we can have a more formal session planned, and it won't be as startling then while we do our work."

"Thank you for your time. Freddy, let's go."

The duo strode through the Department Atrium. They passed into the white marble room, where the receptionist quirked a brow. She knew that Freddy's sessions were usually much longer. Then they stepped into the elevator, and with a murmured silencing charm, Kingsley looked down at her. 

"I want to see that contract."

"Dad has it."

"I want a legal team to search it," there was a lightness in her chest, "she is a goodman quack, you are getting worse, and your control is minimal at best."

Freddy grimaced because, in truth, it was better than it had ever been, but neither her Uncle nor Basnet needed to know that. She didn't need Basnet poking around her head any more than she usually did. 

"We can find other help. There are many bright wix in the world who can help you, other Seers."

"I know. But we need to stop talking about it, the wards..." watching the arrow tick up and up.

"Of course," they both fell silent as the voice rang out -- "8th Floor!"

Freddy leaned against her Uncle's arm, and he curled her tighter against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I had no idea how bad your condition has gotten." She nodded slowly, trying not to let a tear fall. "We'll get you out of this contract, get you some real help. Basnet has done well with your control, but frankly, it's not enough anymore."

"She tried--" Freddy started weakly before closing her jaw together with a click. The wards were in place, and Freddy was far too terrified to talk too much about what Basnet had her doing. What envelopes she was pushing. Freddy could only think of the swirls of the room, the way she'd wake up, her memory blank and energy drained, the way she'd vomit blood up, and the glare of a timer going far, far past the agreed 10-minute mark. Breaking the Vows of Silence for the Department of Mysteries led to tragedy. Though Freddy had looser restrictions than any regular Unspeakable, she hardly wanted to test the boundary here.

"Trying to use the wrong family's kid is what she’s trying to do.” He was tense, every inch of him and every movement militaristic. “I'll have the Head of the Department investigate her. Then we'll see where we're at with getting you a new teacher. I’ll speak with my Mother, she has connections with the other magical schools." So this really was a family matter.

But, Freddy knew that it would take a lot more than the Shacklebolt name thrown around to get her out of the contract. But she let her Uncle have the optimism and simply let him crack jokes and tell funny anecdotes for the rest of the elevator ride up. Freddy popped in on occasion, exchanging a quip or describing a new story about her friends from school and things going on at the candy shop. 

Freddy hardly noticed they were already at the Visitor's Gate, a low thrumming headache forming at the back of her skull. She rubbed gently at her eyes; they were aching too. Maybe she ought to get checked at St. Mungo's to see if they could get her any more potent headache potions. 

"Gerald! I didn't know you were working today."

"Huh, lassie? You were just here, not even 3 hours ago? I checked you in, remember?" Gerald gently took her visitor's badge, "We were chatting..."

Freddy's face fell, and Kingsley tensed as she tripped over her words before finally exiting. Amara stood there, concern blatant; Freddy peered up at her before sharply turning away. They paused at the fireplaces, and Freddy looked at Kingsley, tears in her eyes, and whispered quietly. He seemed deep in thought.

"Uncle King?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know if I Flooed in this morning?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked down on her, a feat with her height, and gently slid his hand into hers and tugged her into the Floo, gently calling out "Ryland Residence, Falmouth." 

Freddy let her world go up in flames and didn't remember stepping out of them this morning.