#pretend I remembered the bowtie

[mars-cant-draw]

euclid & scalene

i tried to draw a tiny mustache but you can barely see it :(

drawing this reminded me that i barely have any markers XD

[freedomfireflies]

The Playboy*

Summary: The one where you're a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh's assistant. The one person you aren't allowed to love.

Word Count: 8.9k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionsim, multiple orgasms, brief choking, overstimulation

Harry's cum is dripping down your thigh.

You can see it, glistening beneath the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look away. You’re completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of it, but Harry pretends as though he has no clue.

After all, he has to pretend. You know he’s done this on purpose. Know that he wanted to mark you right before your photoshoot with Hugh and the other Bunnies. He's sending a message, making a statement.

And really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry fucked you right and you both know it. And he can pretend all he wants that it means nothing, but you’re the best lover he’s ever had. He told you himself. And perhaps that’s why he’s done this. Why he insisted that you weren’t allowed to wipe it off or hide it. Because he wants them to see. To know who you really belong to.

No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together or attempt to brush the sticky stain away, it remains. And Harry’s proud smirk is rather obvious even from over on the grass where he observes. 

You try not to look at him. To acknowledge that sadistic glee as you keep your gaze on the camera. Because if you look at him…it’s over. You won’t be able to hide your infatuation and the last thing either of you want is for Hugh to find out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. Then again, he has too many people around him at once to pay attention to you and your wet thighs. But you know he’d be furious if he knew what his precious Bunny was doing, one of the many reasons you and Harry are forced to keep your meetings a secret.

But you know Harry likes being your secret. Perhaps just as much as you like being his. Besides, it’s only sex. No strings attached. He’s Hugh’s assistant and you’re one of the beloved Bunnies. It’s against every rule in the book for the two of you to be together, much less sleep together.

Yet here you are.

You sometimes wonder if Harry would even give you the time of day outside of your secret rendezvous. Or if he’d avoid you altogether. You want to believe it goes deeper than just sex, but truth be told, you’re too afraid to ask.

"Your lemonade, Sir."

You watch as Harry nods his thanks and takes the cold glass from the waiter. He’s far too smug for your liking, and you’d chastise him if it were any other moment.

Still, you watch him take a rather long sip as his eyes follow you from behind those dark sunglasses.

He knows you like to be watched. That you thrive off his attention. So, he gives it to you anytime he can. Even when you’re sitting on the lap of the man that employs him.

But you like to watch him, too. And the way he looks right now, with those dark curls pushed back, now slightly disheveled from when you had your hands running through them, is rather delicious.

He leans back in his seat, strong thighs spreading as he takes another sip. It’s almost criminal, and you can practically hear the sighs of the other girls as they notice, too.

He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt free, allowing for a glimpse of his tan, sweaty skin, and you feel your stomach clench. He’s taunting you now. Reminding you who’s really in charge, and you’re nearly tempted to march right over and prove him wrong.

But you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Remembering just a few moments ago when he had you bent over a chair as he fucked you from behind.

"Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck you."

"Tell me how deep—"

"Not deep enough. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy."

The second he saw you in your signature bowtie, he snatched your hand and dragged you away. And you let him, because how could you not? Even if it meant you were late for the shoot and that you’d earn a very firm frown from Hugh. It was worth it, and the evidence has been painted all over your leg.

Suddenly struck with inspiration, you give a big beam to the camera before you subtly drop your hand to your thigh and swipe your finger through the mess.

You notice Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up, wildly intrigued. But you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking, instead keeping your eyes on the lens as suck your middle finger into your mouth.

Harry knows what coats that finger and you let your lashes flutter as though to tell him how much you enjoy the taste.

Hugh laughs, thinking it's just a clever pose for the photos, but Harry knows this show is just for him and him alone.

He slides his sunglasses a bit further down his nose, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.

Yet your eyes never leave the camera, your smile wide, and your glee unmeasurable. You enjoy teasing him when you know he can’t do anything about it. 

And it works, if the way he begins to shift in his seat is any indication. You can practically see his erection from here, and you have to swallow a laugh as he clenches his jaw.

Finally, you decide to put him out of his misery, and steal one glance for yourself.

The moment your eyes meet, your chest nearly caves in. The tension is thick, and it feels as though the whole world has gone quiet. It’s just you and Harry, and when he bites his lip and leans back in his seat, you about lose it.

Thankfully, almost as though heaven heard your silent plea, Hugh suddenly claps his hands together and declares the shoot through. He thanks you all for your patience and time before everyone begins to part and the camera crew packs up.

You’re off his lap in seconds, moving for the refreshments so you can grab a glass of lemonade for yourself. And hopefully encourage Harry’s attention to follow you.

You feel him behind you before you even have a chance to turn around. You recognize his cologne and the soft hum in his throat and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning.

“Bunny,” he murmurs, and even though it’s only been a few minutes, you’ve missed the sound of his voice. Low and raspy with just a hint of an accent.

“Harold,” you return, tossing a quick look over your shoulder before moving across the yard.

However, he’s hot on your tail, giving you absolutely no room or personal space. “That was quite a show,” he says, jogging around you to catch your eye.

You only bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink, watching as his attention zeroes in on the way your lips wrap around the straw. 

He smirks.

“Enjoyed yourself, did you?” you retort innocently, attempting to brush past him again when he suddenly grabs onto your upper arm and drags you back to him.

He dips down, mouth ghosting the side of your ear as he murmurs, “I believe you owe me a taste.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?”

“It is.” His grip tightens. “And you know it.”

You take a quick glance around the backyard just to make sure Hugh isn’t watching before you pull yourself free and turn to Harry. “Who said you deserve to taste me?”

 “I believe you did. When you were coming around my cock and begging me to do it again.”

You scoff, feigning annoyance as you attempt to walk away. However, Harry is much quicker, and he snatches hold of your wrist in order to drag you across the grass and toward the pool shed in the corner of the yard.

Thankfully nobody seems to notice, and you feel your cunt throb as he gently slams you against the wall, away from any prying eyes. And he cages you there, arms on either side of your head as you bite your lip and peer up at him. 

“You’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you, little one?” he nearly purrs, wedging his knee between your clenched thighs. “Trying to tease me…embarrass me. Get me in trouble.”

You blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He squeezes your chin. “Show me your tongue.”

Slowly, you concede. Parting your lips and extending your tongue as he tilts your head back and stares down your throat. 

“Good girl. Swallowed every drop, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“S’it feel good in your tummy, baby? Hm? Did it taste as good as you imagined?”

Another nod. Quicker and more excited.

He smiles. “Then I think it’s only fair you return the favor, hm?”

You aren’t afforded the chance to answer before he’s dropping to his knees and prying your legs apart.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy,” he murmurs, flicking the button on your costume undone until he can reach your stockings and tear them down. “S’been too long.”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Exactly.”

He runs his hands along your body, enjoying the way you shiver, that wicked grin is enough to ruin you. He places your foot on his shoulder while you steady yourself against the shed, your fingers already returning to his hair.

And he watches you. So desperate and eager to please. You know he’d bury himself in your cunt with no hesitation if he could, but for now…this is all you get.

It’s one of the things you adore most about him. His need to please you, even despite his ego. In fact, from the moment you met him, he’s put your pleasure first. Demanding that you sit on his face nearly every hour of the day just so he can get a small taste. Savor you on his tongue, go home with you still smeared across his chin.

Some people do drugs. Harry does pussy.

His hands slowly smooth up your leg, taking his time to appreciate your skin while admiring the way it glistens underneath the summer sun. He begins to kiss his way along your ankle and up toward your knee. 

And you work to bite back a heavy sigh. You don’t tend to trip up too often, but when it comes to Harry, you find that you can never stay quiet. And you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he knows how to draw out every possible noise and sensation. Somehow, even his kisses leave you whining. 

Either way, you know you can’t make a noise today. Because no matter how loud the group out by the pool are, it’s not nearly loud enough to drown out your pleasured whines.

And he knows it, too.

He pauses his kisses once he reaches your inner thigh and glances up through those thick lashes of his. "You think you can stay quiet, little one?" he asks, lips brushing against your skin with every word.

You force a smile. “Do it right and we’ll see.”

It’s a challenge he’s more than eager to accept. He’s been waiting far too long to get a taste of what he left behind and wastes no more time in dragging his flattened tongue along your leg to collect the salty remnants from before.

The feeling itself isn't much but watching him...you can feel your knees growing weak. Harry knows what you like to see. Knows you adore his pink lips and the rings on his fingers. Knows you like to run your hands through his gelled hair and leave your lipstick on his shirt. 

He hums, rather satisfied with himself. But before he can truly have you, you both catch the sound of commotion happening near the mansion.

You have a rather hard time tearing yourself away, but you know that if you don’t check, Hugh will coming looking for you.

So, regretfully, you drop your leg from Harry’s shoulder and peer around the shed.

Hugh is standing on one of the staircases, pipe in his mouth as he claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "All right, my dears, gather 'round. You've all been doing such good work this week, and I felt it was only right to honor you. So, for the first Saturday of the summer, I've decided we must celebrate.”

The other girls cheer as you toss Harry a curious look. 

He only shrugs.

"You know the rules," Hefner continues. "But I want you to have fun and just relax tonight. The real work starts next week.”

With that, he gives his adoring audience a wink before heading back inside, leaving you to sigh to yourself.

Hugh is a stickler for rules and regulations. Curfews, no outside relationships, and absolutely no visitors. He wants to keep his girls to himself, and you know that applies to you more than anyone else.

Harry is watching you closely as you finally turn back around. “He wants me there tonight,” he tells you.

You nod. You expected nothing less. “I imagine so.”

“We won’t have as much time.”

“I know.” You readjust your outfit and attempt to wipe the lustful look from your face. “I should go.”

You get ready to slip back out into the open before Harry grabs your arm for a third time.

"I'll find you," he murmurs, more so a promise than a threat. "And I will get my taste."

You can’t help but smirk as you pat his cheek lightly.  “Mm. Good luck, Playboy."

There are very few times in life when you find yourself completely and utterly breathless. Transfixed beyond doubt, mesmerized by one singular moment in time when you can't move or speak.

For you, that happened when you saw Harry enter the room for the very first time.

And then it happened again…when he slid inside you later that same night.

Two moments, one man.

One incredibly ethereal, divine, godlike man. 

You hadn't expected Hugh's party to be all that exciting, but it was one of Harry’s first parties as Hugh’s assistant. Turns out…that meant something.

You had specific instructions to stay close to Hugh throughout the evening, as his favorite Bunny, and Harry had instructions to stay close as the assistant. But unlike you, Harry was instructed to follow from behind. Not to interact with any of the guests. And definitely not to be seen or heard.

But from the moment he entered the room, you knew it would be nearly impossible for anyone to keep their eyes off him.

He walked in as though surrounded by light, drawing everyone’s attention to those dark curls and that charming smile.

You couldn’t look away, so spellbound by his presence that you didn’t even realize Hugh was right beside him.

Instantly, you knew that would complicate things.

Still, you liked the challenge. And as it turned out, Harry did, too. Because while you were busy seeing him, he was busy seeing you.

Your eyes met through the crowd, even despite the many bodies and loud music. You felt yourself being drawn closer as you pushed your way toward the center of the room in a desperate attempt just to be close.

Harry did the same.

You wondered if Hugh knew what a threat Harry posed to his brand. After all, Hugh loved being the center of attention and Harry was so effortlessly stealing the attention for himself.

But it didn’t matter in that moment because Harry’s attention was yours, and once you both found your way to the center of the living room…everything changed. 

You did your best to study him. Those gorgeous, textured curls. The unusual shade of green in his eye. That strong jaw that seemed to accentuate his sharp but handsome features.

He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged each of his muscles in a way that left little to the imagination. He looked clean. Put together. So refined that all you wanted to do was trail your hands down his chiseled chest before you tore is shirt off.

And that’s when it happened.

The Moment.

Ever since that night, the two of you have been inseparable. Fucking any chance you get. In the kitchen, in the car, in the closet. His hand over your mouth, forcing you to stay silent in case Hugh might be somewhere in the mansion—which he always is.

In fact, there’s never a moment when you aren't the focus of each other's attention. Day or night, all you can think about is when you’ll see him next. Creating moments to run into each other. Planning meetings. Making excuses to find time alone.

And as it turns out, tonight is no different.

You know Hugh will be around. And even worse, he’ll be making his favorite Bunny the center of attention.

Which just means you’ll have to try a little harder to get Harry alone. 

Most of the crowd will be desperate to talk to you. They always are, after all. They’ll follow you around, ask you questions, want to be in your presence. 

And Harry will be somewhere hidden, keeping to himself so he’s neither seen nor heard. Although the rest of the Bunnies make that quite difficult.

For some reason, Hugh doesn’t mind if the others pay Harry a bit of attention. He only seems to mind if you do. And even though Harry will never admit it, Hugh’s possession over you makes him quite jealous.

He doesn’t enjoy the idea of having to share you, much less with a whole crowd of people and greedy men. They’ll take up all of your time. Time that should be reserved for him. 

Truth be told, you find it rather cute.

So, you try to make it worth it. You sway your hips to a song just because he’s watching. 

You run your hands down your body, smoothing them over each and every one of his favorite curves. 

You dangle a cherry over your tongue before taking it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you suck the sweet fruit into your mouth.

It drives him absolutely mad, and you can already see him fighting the temptation to stride over to you right now.

You’re sitting by the pool, legs dangling over the side as you chat with Paul Newman. He’s leaning his body closer and closer toward yours, inviting himself into your space as you laugh and throw your head back with glee just to give Harry a proper show.

You do your best to flirt with the handsome man—which isn’t all that difficult, really—before you notice Harry march himself over to the drink stand. 

Instantly, he begins chatting up Sophia Loren. One of the most stunning women you think you’ve ever seen and immediately, your eyes narrow.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

He’s not subtle about the way he stares at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure rather shamelessly. And she smiles, eating up his attention until you nearly chip a tooth from how hard you’re gritting your teeth.

It’s rather cute, all things considered. He’s really trying to make you jealous. But why should you be? Paul Newman is every bit as handsome, if not more, and happens to be someone you can actually sit and have a conversation with.

In fact, Hugh was the one who set it up. He introduced the two of you and insisted you get to know each other.

You knew what he really wanted from the interaction, but neither you nor Paul will be entertaining such an idea. After all, he is happily married. And you just enjoy getting to know him.

Paul is still chatting away as you both swing you legs through the warm water, and even though you can’t help feeling rather starstruck by those gorgeous blue eyes…you’re remind of a pair of green ones that are currently still checking out someone else.

So, you gently put your hand on Paul’s chest in a subtle signal for him to wind his story down. You tell him that you’re going to go grab a drink and he nods before helping you stand from the pool.

You make your way for the bar—rather aware of the number of eyes on you as you walk—yet Harry still seems to be rather immersed in his conversation with the starlet. And now you aren’t sure if this really is just for show or if she truly has caught his eye.

Either way, you decide a little eavesdropping can’t hurt. So, you subtly make your way around the pool and toward the back of the drink station, just out of sight. Close enough to hear, but not so close as to be seen.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Harry is asking, and you catch just a glimpse of those dimples.

Sophia hums, looking around the large backyard that seems to sparkle underneath such a dark sky. "Oh, yes. Hugh always throws the best parties."

"He does. Are you here with someone?"

You suck in a quiet breath while Sophia laughs, shaking out her perfectly styled curls. “No, not at all. I like to…come alone. Window shop.”

“Window shop?” Harry repeats with a smirk.

“Yes. I like to see what’s to be seen. To decide if I’ll be leaving alone as well.”

Harry chuckles, and the sound of it makes your stomach flutter. “I see. Well, I have to admit, that does sound like an excellent plan.”

Sophia studies him. “And…you? Will you be leaving alone?”

Harry runs his tongue over his lip before glancing toward the spot near the pool where you once were. But once he notices you’re missing, his eyebrow raises. “I hope not.”

She smiles. “Come,” she says, taking his hand. “We dance.”

With that, she leads him toward the middle of the yard where a few people are already swaying to the music.

You watch them dance with a rather wounded expression, doing your best to remind yourself what this really is.

You don’t imagine Sophia will be taking him home tonight—he’s handsome, but she’s far out of his league—yet you can’t help that spark of jealousy that finally burns in your chest.

What Harry lacks in brains he makes up for in charisma. And he looks rather breathtaking out there, moving his hips to the melody and grabbing at her waist while she laughs and swings her arms around his neck.

For a moment, you almost wish that you could dance with him like that. So open and uninhibited. But you know that this arrangement only lasts for the summer. Once fall comes, the two of you will part ways, and the fun will be through.

Eventually, the two of them return to the bar for more drinks, and you’re forced to scurry back out of sight just in time to ear the rest of their conversation.

"She is...stunning,” Sophia says as they approach.

Harry’s head tilts. “Who?”

“The woman you keep looking for.”

Harry grins as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hm.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him. “One cannot win a game if the other player doesn’t know they are playing.”

"Maybe. But I’m not playing any games.”

She scoffs. “Aren’t you? Talking to me but wanting her?”

Harry seems rather surprised by this, and you feel yourself grin as you finally breeze your way around the corner in full view of them both.

“A scotch, please, darling,” you call to the bartender before glancing to your left. “Oh! Hi, Sophia. Harold.”

Sophia laughs. “Hello, dear. Fantastic party. You look beautiful.”

“As do you,” you return. “So happy you made it, despite your current choice in companion.”

Harry’s eyes roll.

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she says, reaching up to wipe her thumb across his bottom lip. “Rather…sweet.”

Harry feigns a smug smirk even though you can tell he’s rather surprised by the action. 

Still, you refuse to play along. “I suppose he can be when Hugh isn’t around.”

She chuckles to herself before offering you a quick kiss to the cheek before bidding the two of you goodbye so she can make the rounds. 

 Rather satisfied, you give Harry a proud look of your own before grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But, true to form, he’s chasing after you and taking a handful of your hip in order to bring you to a stop.

“Bunny,” he warns beneath a raspy breath. “I thought I made myself clear—”

“I don’t know what you mean, I was only chatting,” you retort, pulling yourself from his hand with a huff. 

“No, you were not. You were being a brat and I’d like you to stop.”

“Stop what? Being delightful?”

“No. Stop toying with me.” He regards you carefully. “I know what you’re doing.”

"I'm talking. After all, that is my job—"

"No, your job is to be a good little Bunny, and do as you're told," he argues, straightening up so he has the advantage of height. "And I’m telling you that I will not play these games with you any longer.”

“What games?”

“The game where you try to rub my nose in that,” he says, gesturing angrily toward Paul.

“It’s not a game. He’s quite delightful. And I don’t believe I’m quite through with him yet—”

“Enough,” he seethes, suddenly yanking you back to him. “You know you don't want to talk to him. Or entertain his sad attempts at flirting. So, give it up, and come with me—"

"Beg me."

He leans back. “Excuse me?”

“Beg me,” you repeat calmly, even though your pussy is just about throbbing from the possessive tone of voice. 

His head cocks. “I said end this—"

"Beg me, and maybe I will.”

He looks at you for another moment more before his eyes flick toward the mansion in search of Hugh. Having this conversation in such an open space is rather reckless, especially with so many witnesses. But you just can’t help it. He never seems to listen.

Harry knows his time is running out, as well as his patience, so he runs a hand through his hair and releases a strained exhale. 

“Fine,” he concedes darkly. “Fine. Please…end this. And come with me.”

You bite back a smile. "Hm... I don't know, Paul and I were just having such a good time—"

"Please," he repeats, almost viciously. "Fucking end this. Now.”

By now, you know exactly what Harry's last straw looks like. What it sounds like. His voice, twisted with need and lust, becomes hoarser the closer he creeps to desperation. His grip becomes tighter, and his pupils nearly blow-out with desperation.

It happens when he's fucking into you so hard that you see stars. When his tongue is so far inside you that neither of you can breathe. And when you’re taking him so well down your throat that you think you’ll sink right through the floor.

It's the same voice. The same urgency. And you can’t help but feel a little intrigued.

You nod. “Fine.”

"Good. Meet me in the coat closet," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "Five minutes."

"Harry—"

“Go,” he repeats, before releasing you so he can slip inside the mansion. 

You don’t need to be told twice. You immediately make your way for the door, weaving your way through the crowd in search of that familiar closet.

The inside of the house is packed with people. It’s loud and chaotic and there are more celebrities here than you can name.

But right now, you couldn’t care less. There’s only one person on your mind. One beautiful body that you can’t wait to run your hands down and it’s only five minutes away.

Once you’ve hidden yourself away in the small, dark space, you imagine all the things he might do. One of his favorites is watching the way he disappears inside you. The way your pussy stretches open to take his cock until you’re both a rather wet mess. You don’t doubt that he’ll find a way to do so tonight, and the thought makes you giddy.

Or perhaps he’ll blindfold you. Cut off all your senses until he’s all you know. Maybe you’ll blindfold him, another favorite. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what he does as long as he does it. Because even the thought leaves you breathless.

The door swings open exactly two minutes later. Harry is quick to lock you both in and turn on the light, twisting the bulb between his fingers until you can see everything you couldn’t before. Mostly coats and hats, but then…him. Somehow just as stunning as he was a few minutes ago, and smiling in a way that makes you want to drag him to his knees.

“You obeyed,” he whispers, stepping up to you until he can softly run his palm along your cheek. “You are a good little bunny after all, aren’t you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth. “Only when I think you deserve it.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He leans closer, nose brushing against yours. “And do I still deserve that taste?”

Your lashes flutter before you forcefully push him away and point to his belt. “Take off your pants.”

You don’t want to have to rush, but you know Hugh will be looking for you soon so you can be by his side for his grand speech. Which means you’ll have to save the sensual looks and teasing touches for another day.

He starts with his shirt instead of his pants (just to spite you), grabbing at his collar before slipping the fabric over his head. Then he reaches for his zipper and drags it down, as slowly as he can all while keeping his eyes on yours.

With a rather unamused huff, you finally swat his hands out of the way in order to do it yourself. 

You yank the dark material down his legs, taking note of the boxers around his hips that practically call to you. You allow your fingers to slowly trail along his thighs. Higher and higher, groping at the strong flesh as he sighs and watches you with flushed cheeks.

Finally, you move for the band at his waist, pulling on it until it snaps back against his stomach, making him grunt.

He drops his head back with a curse, but once you start to drag your tongue along his abs…it’s game over. 

His hand is instantly in your hair, tugging at the scalp as though to remind you who’s really in charge. But you can feel his muscles quivering beneath your tongue and you hum when you hear him exhale your name.

You reach his pecs, taking a moment to brush your lips over his hardened nipple. He doesn’t seem to understand why this feels so good, but he enjoys it, and he certainly enjoys watching you do it, too.

You never leave him unsatisfied. You don’t think you could even if you tried. Sometimes, all you have to do is kiss him, and he’s nearly coming in his shorts as he grinds you against his lap. 

He knows his pleasure isn’t nearly as important as yours, but he enjoys the time you dedicate to him, nonetheless. 

You graze the nipple with your teeth, pulling it ever so slightly until he hisses, head dipping as your foreheads meet.

He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. He starts with his tongue, exploring your mouth like it’s the first time, and honestly…it almost feels like it is.

Teeth clash, noses brush, breaths are stolen. You devour each other, greedy hands roaming freely, tangling in each other's hair.

"Can’t fucking stand you," he nearly groans against your mouth, his hips knocking into yours as he keeps you trapped against his chest. "Teasing me all night. Playing with me."

"You love it," you pant. "Love it when I play with you."

He grins. “Maybe I do.”

His hand moves to your one-piece until he finds the apex of your thighs. He smooths his palm along your cunt, cupping you harshly as you reel. He wants to feel how warm you are—how wet and desperate.

And you want him to feel it, too.

You swallow a needy sigh, almost as though you can’t let him hear. He can’t know how good this really feels. How depraved you really are of his touch. How starved.

But he knows. You know he knows, even through one little kiss.

It’s maddening.

He grabs onto the corset, ready to rip it down and reveal your chest to his hungry eyes, but you quickly snatch his wrist.

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head slightly. “Can’t rip it. Gentle.”

He scoffs, almost as though the thought of being gentle with you is absurd. Still, he knows Hugh would notice if your outfit has been torn, so he obeys, and unzips you instead.

The suit falls away, finally allowing him a good look at what you’ve been hiding from him all night.

Instantly, he’s got your tits in his hands, pulling at the tender flesh with a lewd grunt.

“Pretty,” he murmurs before sucking one into his mouth. “Fucking killing me, Bunny.”

Like a starved wolf, he starts to leave a trail of kisses wherever he can. Sloppy kisses that make you shiver as you fist his curls and laugh at the feel of your nipple between his teeth.

He swirls his tongue just the way you did, then flicks it gently while you sigh in his ear. Eventually, his fingers make their way to their previous spot, brushing at your inner thighs as though to warn you. And you’re given only a few seconds to prepare before he’s slipping the middle one inside and making you gasp.

The noise is covered by the loud music outside of the door, but Harry still hears it, and he beams as he starts to pump you slowly.

Your body invites him in the way it always does, squeezing him gently and clenching as though to keep him close. 

“Shit,” he curses, once again pressing his mouth to yours. “Missed this pretty pussy, baby.”

His large digit suddenly curls upward, motioning a moan from your lips and there it is. That’s what you needed.

You hold onto him for dear life, already lost in the feel. He's always been rather exceptional at touching you. At knowing your body better than anyone else does.

You’ve tried to replicate his actions on yourself, tried to make yourself cum as hard as he makes you when he’s the one doing it. But it's never the same. It feels like a waste of time to even try. It'll be weak and short. Pitiful. And trying again never works because it's just as disappointing as the first time.

But Harry…with his long fingers, his firm hand, his ravenous lips. Nothing will ever compare.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," he praises, lips staining your skin as he kisses the hollow of your neck. "Good girl. Lift for me, yeah?"

You obey, offering him your leg which he's quick to hook around his waist, spreading your open a bit further so he can slide himself deeper inside.

Another finger, another curl, another pinch. His thumb presses into your clit, circling it rapidly, making you whine into his shoulder. You can feel the coil already ready to snap, hardly surprised by how quickly you got here, but you know he’ll make sure to drag it on for as long as possible.

And as if to prove this, he slips his fingers out, and raises them to his lips. You nearly wilt right then and there, but you manage to hold your impatient façade as you cock your eyebrow upward before yanking his hand out and kissing him.

You can taste yourself on his lips, something you always seem to enjoy. The mix of you both together. 

And this is when he decides to ruin you, plunging his fingers back in with vigor until he hits that perfect spot. The one that has you gasping for air and moaning his name.

Your chest heaves with deep breaths. You’re close and you know it won’t be long until your cunt is fluttering around his hand and you’re dripping down his wrist. But you need more than that. Especially because this is the last time you’ll be with him for a while.

So, you grab onto his jaw and forcefully bring his eyes to yours.

“No,” you hiss. “Not like this. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy.”

He hums, all without slowing his rhythm. “Impatient, little one?”

“Obviously.”

He makes an amused noise, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He plans to make you cum just like this before he fucks you and you don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

You move your hand to his throat, squeezing the sides gently as you feel him swallow. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips, blown-out pupils glued to yours as you add just the slightest bit of pressure.

His soft inhale makes your stomach flutter. You happen to adore him like this, on the verge of complete submission. Merciless at your feet.

But you know it won’t last long. And once his eyelids begin to flutter, you yank him down for another kiss. Stealing the only breath he has left.

You can practically feel his cock twitching against your thigh as you tug his curls and suck on his tongue. But he’s not one to be outdone, and he continues rubbing your clit as quickly as he can, sweeping his fingers in a circle while you roll your hips against his hand.

"Gentle, sweetheart," he warns, throwing your own instruction back at you. 

You want to retort with a quippy remark of your own but choose instead to lick a stripe along his jaw. That suffices as your reply.

You don't have a lot of time, at least not for games. You’re playing against the clock, and you know Hugh will be calling for you any second.

Any other night, Harry would most likely edge you all the way to the brink. But tonight, he knows better, and he does everything he can to make you cum.

And when you do, you nearly lose your balance. It’s one of the most blinding and toe-curling orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. So much better than when you do it alone and you’re so grateful for his cocky attitude for the first time all summer.

Your body melts into his as you start to come down from your high. You almost wish it would never end. The way his lips feel on your cheek. The sound of his soft, proud praises in your ear. It’s everything.

But you know that’s not what he’s good for. So, instead, you push him away and step back. “Down.”

He looks at you. “Down?”

You nod toward the floor. “You wanted a taste. So take a taste, sweetheart.”

He crosses his arms. “Mm. Ask me nicely.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me nicely to eat you out and maybe I will.”

Your expression falls flat. “Take the goddamn taste, Harold, or I will go out there and find somebody who will.”

He’s amused, but you know he’s also nervous. He doesn’t like the idea that you’d take yourself from him, so, he clears his throat and slowly lowers to his knees.

Exactly where he belongs.

His head bows, something he doesn’t do quite that often, and your heart soars. He looks beautiful like this. Submissive and good. Everything you know he’s not. 

You brush your fingers through the curls draping across his forehead and he seems to settle into your touch before you’re hooking your finger under his chin and lifting his head.

Your eyes meet, a look of utter reverence written across his face as he gazes at you with awe and respect. And your stomach nearly twists as you whisper, “You know what to do.”

And he does. His mouth turns up in a gentle smile as he slowly reaches for your ankle. He resumes his earlier position, the bottom of your heel on top of his shoulder for access, and his other hand reaching to grab your hip and pull you towards his face.

You immediately bite your lip, anticipating the noises that are about to follow. 

Similar to this afternoon, he starts gentle, pressing kisses into your thighs ever so slowly. You know you’re soaking him. Can hear it and see it, even in the dim closet light.

He drags his tongue up your leg, collecting every drop that’s at his disposal, while you continue pushing back his hair so you can see him clearly. 

Finally, he reaches your swollen clit, still sensitive from his last assault, before he’s eagerly tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe in his hands, head turning to the side as you open your mouth to exhale a curse. And this seems to feed his ego because he repeats the action again, nose pressing into your hip as he inhales you like you’re fresh air on a spring day. Like you’re the only thing he wants in his lungs—the only breath he wants to take.

You pull his head closer as though to encourage him, and your name falls from his lips like rain.

“My sweet Bunny,” he nearly groans. “Can never get enough of you.”

“Good,” is all you can say. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. You need to be quick.”

“Who says I’m through? You owe me, sweetheart.”

You give his curls a sharp yank. “No. Get up and fuck me.”

He pouts, feigning a tantrum, but you know his cock is throbbing rather pitifully for you. So, he obliges, standing to his feet while you gather yourself in wait.

He tugs down his boxers, the only fabric left between you, and you try not to stare as you grab onto his shoulders and prepare to sink down.

“Five minutes,” you instruct softly. “Make it count.”

However, before you can feel that glorious tip pushing its way through, he’s suddenly grabbing onto your hips and spinning you around. Shoving you against the coat closet wall as you gasp.

Instantly, his hand comes up to slap against your lips. “Hush now," he hisses against your ear. "Unless you want Hugh to know what I'm really doing to his pretty girl?"

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel his hips knocking into yours, giving you just a taste of what’s to come. Instead, you glance over your shoulder in an attempt to see him, and nod once.

But this isn’t good enough. So, he reaches for the bowtie around your neck, pulling on it until it snaps off into his hand. He holds it as though it were a prize he won in battle before he’s slipping it over your head and into your mouth.

You take it between your teeth and bite down obediently.

“Good,” he hums, giving your ass a quick spank. The sound echoes between the small walls. “That’s much better, hm?”

You feel him drag his cock through your dripping folds while his other hand ghosts down the curve of your spine. He’s gentle with you, despite his cruel taunting, and you’re almost impressed. Infatuated, even.

His warm body feels so good against yours. Luring you into a sense of security you can’t seem to find anywhere else. And you rather enjoy it as you feel the thickness of him starting to stretch you open.

You moan around the tie while Harry grunts in your ear. Just like the first time the two of you found yourselves in this position. 

And exactly like every other time before, he doesn’t rush you. He lets you feel—lets you enjoy—every inch and every second. Any other time, he’d make you beg. Beg him to go harder, go deeper. But tonight, you can’t, and it’s almost a shame he won’t get to hear it.

Instead, you offer a muffled whimper that seems to do the trick, and he chuckles to himself. “Need more, don’t you?”

You nod quickly, and he wraps his arms around your stomach in order to tug you back and guide you along his cock the way he wants.

He goes faster. His five minutes is now down to four, and he knows he’ll have to make this quicker than usual. Sharp, hard thrusts that make your legs shake and your heart race. But somehow, it’s still not enough.

“You like to play with me, don’t you, hm?” he begins to taunt. An angrier tone than before. “Make me watch you? With him?”

Your eyes nearly roll back, and you whine against the fabric on your tongue.

"Think I don't know?" he scoffs. "Think I don't know who this pussy belongs to?"

He starts to slow. A rather achingly languid pace that’s meant to make you scream, and you nearly do.

“I do,” he promises in a dark whisper. “I know exactly who you belong to.”

You arch your back and reach for his hair. Pulling his face into your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way down to your shoulder.

“So stay,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to him. Don’t make me jealous, Bunny. Don’t make me watch him touch you. Please.”

Please.

A word he rarely uses, even when you instruct him to. But it sounds so beautiful between his lips, and you nearly tell him you’ll never leave him again.

But you know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just what you say in a moment like this. So, you whimper, and tug on him harder. Pretending to agree until he smiles.

The small coat room has become a sauna, your naked bodies now writhing together as the rest of the world continues on around you.

You can hear the music, the people, the party. A constant reminder that while you’ve disappeared into your own little world within this closet...the two of you will never truly be alone.

But you don’t get a chance to focus on that when his hand suddenly reaches around to take hold of your chest. Plucking your nipple between his large, rough fingertips. You brace your forehead against the wall as you push yourself into his palm. Anxious for more, which he happily gives you.

The two of you move like the tide, one fluid motion of your bodies in rhythmic harmony. He leaves your tit to focus on your clit. Forcing you closer to a second orgasm that already feels much stronger than the first.

"Here," he breathes. “Give me your hand. Want you to touch yourself for me, okay? So I can watch you.”

Your arm trembles as you move it toward your thighs, where he easily takes your fingers and places them against your pussy exactly the way his had been.

“Just like that. Good. Rub it for me, sweetheart. Yeah…there you go. Attagirl. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You feel his eyes over your shoulder as you pinch and rub the swollen nerves as your legs shake. After a moment, he grabs your thigh and lifts your knee to the wall. Giving himself a different and deeper angle as you nearly cry out around the bowtie in your mouth.

Everything feels wet. And warm. And perfect. And you know you’re moments away from coming around his cock for the second time today.

“How you doing, baby?” he chuckles when he notices the fucked-out expression on your face. “You all right?”

You nod as best you can and clench down on his cock for confirmation. And he makes a rather animalistic noise before he’s grabbing onto your tit again and groping it in his palm. 

“Good. You gonna cum for me, little one? Milk me like I know you can?”

Another nod. You can hear the party growing louder, which means it’s almost midnight. And that means Hugh’s speech will be any second now.

You’re squirming harder, unable to fight such intense pleasure as it comes from his cock and your fingertips. But he catches you, grip tightening around your thigh as he squeezes so hard, you know you’ll see bruises in the shape of his name tomorrow.

But you don’t mind. You know you’ll be able to touch them in the shower and remember this—remember him.

“Cum,” he instructs, almost viciously. “Right now, Bunny. Fucking cum. Let me feel you. Gotta feel you, honey, please.”

You roll yourself back onto his cock just to feel full while he kisses your jaw and begs you to let go. 

You’re so close you can nearly taste it. And he’s even closer than you, doing his best to hold out but you know it’s rather hard with the watch you’re squeezing him.

And when you feel him start to buck and twitch, you can’t help but smile.

He spills inside you as he bottoms out. He hates coming first, and always tries incredibly hard not to. But tonight, you can’t exactly fault him, and as it turns out, the feel of him inside you—so warm it makes your head spin—is what you need to follow.

The orgasm nearly explodes behind your eyelids as you scream into the tie, forcing Harry to slap his hand back over your mouth to silence you.

“Quiet,” he hisses, nose pressed against your cheek. “Shut up.”

Yet you don’t even try. You don’t care that you might get caught or that someone could hear. Perhaps you will once the consequences catch up to you, but right now? Right now, you moan into his hand and allow every moment of this pleasure to take control of you. 

Your sweaty bodies melt together, damp hair clinging to your skin as Harry finally lets go and steps back.

But instead of pulling his clothes back on, the sadistic man drops back down to his knees, and spins you around.

He brushes your hand away from your clit in order to do the work himself. Resuming his previous pace on your rather abused nerves until you nearly crumble to the floor.

It’s almost too much. Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall. You can’t stand it, yet you can’t get enough.

“One more,” is all he says before diving forward for a lick. “Just one more, baby.”

You’re too sensitive. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you watch him through the blissful haze as he closes his eyes to savor the taste.

It’s a mix of you and him, and watching him lap at you like a thirsty man desperate for a drink is sinful. He’s so good. So beautiful like this. Devoted just to you the way no other man ever has been before.

Outside, you can hear the sound of Hugh calling for everyone’s attention. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’ll be furious if you’re not there. If he has to find you. And if he finds you with Harry?

You don’t have any more time. You have to go. Right now. But you’re so close, and Harry isn’t stopping, and you just need to finish, you just need…need—

You cum for the third and final time with a rather lewd and anguished moan.

Instantly, you start to slump forward as Harry leaps to his feet in order to keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “There you go. I’ve got you. S’okay.”

Your vision is fuzzy as you grip onto his shoulders for balance, the taste of the orgasm still bleeding along your tongue. 

But you can’t bid him goodbye just yet. So, you rip the tie from your mouth and kiss him. Drowning in the taste of him and you together. And nothing else really matters except his hands and the way they hold you close. 

“Good boy,” you exhale after you’ve pulled apart.“Knew you could do it.”

He only grins.

The two of you quickly work to redress, pulling on your clothes and shoes while Harry’s cum continues to streak down your thighs. It seems he didn’t get it all, and the realization that you’ll have to go out there with him still snug inside your cunt makes your stomach flutter.

When Harry notices your surprised expression, he winks. “Wanna make sure you’re thinking of me when you’re standing next to him.”

You scoff. But deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry helps you secure the tie back around your neck, effectively covering the hickeys he so generously left for you to find later. And you make sure to brush back his curls so they look a little more tame before swiping your thumb across his chin to collect what’s left of you.

And once you’ve finally gathered yourself, you move for the door, only stopping to give him one last glance.

“This was nice,” you tell him honestly. “Just make me a deal, okay?”

His eyebrow raises.

“Next time? Don’t wait so long.”

With that, you’re out the door. Leaving the breathless man behind. But you know it certainly isn’t the last time you’ll see him. After all, the summer is far from over.

And you’re just getting started.

HI!!! I just wanted to say that even though we have a Hugh Hefner in this story, I don't consider it to be the same one as the real one! I used his name because he's so famously associated with Playboy but I do not agree with or condone anything that he's done or how he treated people!

I am only using his name, but please imagine anyone you'd like! 💞

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@laelamarley @idkkkkkkk123lgb 

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 3)

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Taglist : @kelloggs4cereal

Sorry for not updating immediately, holidays are crazy here and I have writer's block.

You come home to Catelyn and Ned Stark waiting for you in the mansion's living room.

"Mother. Father." You greet them. Ned scoffs as you bow respectfully at them.

"You are late." He points out and you clench your fist.

"I apologize for the tardiness, Father." 'Never mind the fact that you literally just called me an hour ago.' You bow and he waves away your apology.

"Your mother has prepared a suit for you in your room. Go change and behave yourself at the gala. Understood?" You nod then bow at him.

"Of course."

"Go." He waves you away and you go up to your room. Thankfully, everyone else is asleep so you go straight to your room and change into the white suit with a gray bowtie. Your house's colors.

You go down and see only Catelyn waiting for you.

"Y/N. You look dashing, daughter." You nod as she pretends to fix your tie.

"Thank you, ma." You smile sadly at her as you pull away. "I'll be going now."

Catelyn can only watch as you go into your car and drive away.

She didn't want this. She didn't even want to disturb your day.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

-

You arrive at the gala and sigh. Galas for the nobility of the Westeros Conglomerate are quite common. There's like one every week. But not everyone has to attend. Not you, at least.

"Finally arrived. You are late." Robb greets and you roll your eyes at him.

"Shut up." You punch his shoulder and he grins at you.

"Thank the gods that you arrived." He holds out a glass of champagne and you take it.

"You need saving?" You ask as you down the champagne.

"Desperately. Every mother wants me to marry their daughter." You laugh at that.

"Never mind that most of them are still underage, right?" He glares at you as the both of you go inside.

"Asshole." You just grin in return and was about to get another glass when someone holds your wrist.

"Finally." Your eyes widen as Daenerys smiles at you. "You are late."

"What? I-I didn't know I was-"

"Supposed to attend? I suppose not. But this is an heir's birthday gala." You look at Robb who was just smiling at you.

"We have him." You point at your older brother and Daenerys nods.

"I suppose so. But still, remember the plan?"

"Plan? We have one? You only gave me rules."

"Yeah. But we have one plan." She pulls you closer. Enough that you can smell her scent. You realize that she smells like sandalwood.

"W-what?" She pulls away and fixes your collar.

"We need to convince everyone that we're in love."

"We do?"

"Yes. I don't this to become just another arranged marriage."

"But it is." She smiles at you.

"Yes. But we can pretend that it's not."

"Why?"

"Too many questions, Y/N." You clear your throat and hold out your arm to her. She smiles as she gets your hand and pulls it to her waist instead. "This is better." She explains and you just nod as you blush profusely. You look at Robb who was smirking at you.

"Good luck." He mouths and you flip him off. He laughs as he goes inside the gala.

"Remember. Look at me like you're in love with me."

"Of course. Can I ask just one question?"

"Sure."

"Are you in love?" She smiles at you.

"That's a secret." She then pulls you inside.

-

You sigh as you get inside the bathroom.

You've been talking to other people for about an hour and you are exhausted. Specially with everyone's snickers and whispers.

"How could a Stark like her have a Targaryen as a fiancé?"

"Isn't she the Omega of the Starks? Did she get lucky?"

"How did Ned convince King Aerys???"

You run a hand through your face and look at the mirror.

"Fuck this gala!" You shout and flinch as a stall opens.

"I agree. Hi, Y/N." Ellaria says and you sigh in relief.

"Ellaria. Is Oberyn around?"

"Yes. He accepted because he wanted free drinks. Why are you here?"

"Ask my Father." You groan as you wash your hands.

"Your father really does control your life, doesn't he?" You glare at her. "How about your training? Does he know?"

"He doesn't. I doubt he'll approve."

"Even though Master Syrio has approved and even recommended you?"

"Yes. Even if fucking Ser Barristan can recommend me, I doubt he'll give a shit."

"Your father is so strict when it comes to you but your brother and sisters has freedom."

"Do they? Do any of us?" You laugh at your own question. "Sometimes I think about running away from all of this."

"Westeros?"

"Everything." Ellaria sighs at your defeated sigh.

"I am not Oberyn. But there is one thing I know. You are one of the most honorable people here. You have to survive." You smile at her then look at the mirror as she leaves.

"Survive? But I-" You clench your fists. "I want to live."

-

You come back to the gala and see that Daenerys is charming yet another group of people. You look around and see Robb talking to a woman. You smile as he lights up as she talks.

"Robb has finally taken a liking to a woman, eh?" You shiver and back away. "Don't be like that, Stark. I know that you're friends with Tyrion." You glare at Jaime.

"Exactly. Tyrion. Not you, ass-hat." He chuckles at the insult then looks at you.

"I heard that your fiancé is showing you off."

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"I actually wanted to marry you, you know?" You shiver at that and you clench your fists as you look at him. "I needed you as shield."

"Why because you're fucking your own-" He quickly covers your mouth and you push him away.

"Shut your mouth, Stark!" He dumps his glass on you and you clench your fist at him. "That's right, stay down, fucking dog."

Daenerys comes to your side then glares at Jaime.

"What happened here?" She asks with an angry tone but you stay quiet. You know what the consequences are if you ever messed with an heir. Specially a Lannister one.

"It was an accident, dear princess." Jaime says and you sigh. "She bumped into me and I didn't budge."

"Really?" She asks you and you look away. You stand and Robb is there, ready to punch Jaime. He was growling but you hold him back.

"Robb, stop." You plead. "It was an accident."

"Like hell it is! I saw him!"

"Robb! Stop!" You clench his suit and he looks at you. You were shaking. "It's not worth it." You push him gently. "I'm not worth it." He glares at Jaime as he guides you.

"This is not over, Lannister." Jaime just smiles as you and Robb leave. He escorts you to your car and gets inside.

"What- your car?"

"I can just get it later. Hop inside." You sit inside the passenger side and sigh. You look at the gala and don't even see Daenerys. She didn't even follow to make sure you were okay. Robb drives away and you take off your jacket.

"Why the fuck did you stop me? That asshole deserves a punch."

"And Father will get angry at you?" He flinches at that and you sigh. "It's not worth it."

"But he pushed you!"

"Robb. Stop. I'm begging you." You get a towel from the bag inside your car and dry yourself with it. "Who was the woman you were talking to?"

"Oh. You saw me?" You hum as you get your phone.

"Yeah."

"Her name's Talisa. She's a doctor."

"Talisa what?"

"Maegyr. She's from Volantis."

"Ah. She's far from home."

"She is. She said Westeros had the best school for medicine so."

"She came here. And she stayed? Is she okay?" Robb laughs at that.

"She said she really liked the place." You chuckle.

"But not the people, huh?"

"No." You both laugh.

-

You wake up in your own apartment and pajamas. After you got home was all a blur. You look around and there was a note from Robb.

Text me when you wake up.

You get your phone and see that it's Sunday. Good. No classes.

You groan and stand from your bed. You get your phone and text a quick 'I'm fine' to Robb. You get ready for the day.

As you finish up your shower, you get a text.

It was Daenerys.

Dani : Are you okay? I'm sorry that I couldn't check up last night. Everyone asked me about us.

You : And? What did they ask about?

Dani : Mostly why I was with you.

You : What did you say?

Dani : That it was a secret. This is just a soft launch after all. We need to keep them in suspense.

You : Got you.

Dani : That Lannister talked to me too.

You : What?

Dani : He said that you are hanging out with his brother which is how he knew you.

You : Ah. Yeah. Tyrion. He's a friend.

Dani : Do you like Tyrion?

You raise an eyebrow at her text.

You : What are you talking about?

Dani : He insinuated that the both of you were "special friends".

You : Special because I'm the rare omega and Tyrion's the rare dwarf. I'm gay, Daenerys.

Dani : Oh. Good to know.

You hum as you put down your phone and get yourself some coffee.

-

You were just lazing around and watching some TV when Jon barges in and looks at you.

"Y/N!" He shouts then hugs you. You push him away and glare at him.

"Personal space, asshole!"

"The date went great!" He ignores your complain. "She was so pretty and cute! We're a match made in heaven!" You glare at him.

"And? Why are you telling me this instead of, I don't know, mating with her?" He blushes and you laugh at him. "Jon Stark! You're a grown ass man! Is the idea of mating with to-" He throws a pillow to your face cuts you off, it was a good thing that you had fast reflexes and you block it with your hand.

"Stop saying that!" You laugh at his blush.

"Seriously? Mating is nothing to be ashamed of, Jon."

"I know that! But I- I-" He groans as he sits besides you.

"You what? Never saw yourself doing it?"

"Technically?" You hum and stand from the couch, you get inside your room and after a few minutes, you come back out with several books in your arms. You settle the books on the coffee table.

"Read up." Jon takes the first book and reads it's title.

'Sex for Dummies.'

"What the fuck?" Despite saying that, he still opens it and reads.

"Planned on giving these to Sansa. Then Arya, and the boys."

"Why?"

"Better me than Father." Jon looks blankly at you.

"Right." He stands from the couch and scoops up the books. "How long can I borrow these for?"

"Two weeks max. Sansa is going to find out her second gender tomorrow."

"What do you think it will be?" You shrug.

"I hope she'll be a beta." Jon nods in agreement and leaves your apartment. You sigh. "I really hope she is."

-

A/N:

Thank you for reading!

Message me if you want to be on the taglist!

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Not a lot of variety in Hazbin Hotel

Another thing I dislike about Hazbin Hotel is the genuine lack of diversity.

With a setting like Hell you have the amazing opportunity to have characters from so many different time periods interact. With different fashion, different skills, different believes or upbringings it's incredibly easy to make characters that stand apart from eachother and create conflict (atleast it should be).

But with Vivzepops disinterest in making characters that even slightly stray away from the specific way she likes to write them, a lot of them end up blending together in how they act/look. Hazbin Hotel has this pretended diversity, where it seems like the cast should vary because on the surface they are very different, but in the show they blend together. This is because Vivzepop throws around different jobs, sexualities, nationalities, goals and inspirations for her characters, but never puts in the work to make them feel like it.

Sir Pentious, Alastor and Vox are all from different times, with different occupations. Sir Pentious was an inventor in the 1880s, Alastor was a radio host from the 1930s and Vox was a TV show host from 1950 (that's the era they died in). Yet they all wear very similar suits, just colour shifted. They all have shoulder pads, the same lapels, stripes and bowties. Alastor and Vox even wear the same pants and have the same shoes (atleast in shape).

Not to mention that in almost all of the designs there's that obnoxious red colour (especially with the red-black-white combination she just loves to put on her creations).

Even characters like Vox who seem like they have different colours (for him a mostly blue colour sceme) still have red accents and only very few characters are allowed designs without any red. Which is not that great since the background is also mostly red and it just hurts to look at sometimes.

Theres also all of the "typical" Vivzepop desing traits. Mostly sharp shapes and features, very slim bodies, sharp teeth, tophats, suits etc. A lot of her characters already blend together even though it doesnt make sense for them to. Would an inventor from the 1880s really dress the same as a TV show host from the 1950s?

Here I should mention that I don't mean blend together as in being completely indistinguishable from eachother but rather having too many similarities that it doesn't make sense for them to have.

As far as personality goes I do have to say that the characters are different enough in their basic chatacterizations. Vaggie especially was mostly refreshing because she acted as a voice of reason sort of and Charlie with her often naive (but very childish) attitude also stood out. But the devil is usually in the details.

I've heard people complain countless times about how pretty much the only continuous joke the show has is a character cursing, insulting others or making a sex joke. I get that cynical characters are sort of the appeal of HH but there's also just a lack of variety there for me. This is probably just a small nitpick here and something that is already done sometimes in the show, but there are different ways a person can be insulting and mean.

Like, for Husk it makes sense to be so up-front with being rude. He's a bartender and dealing with drunk people often requires being very clear and assertive.

But why does Angel never get to do anything else then directly talking about being sexy and making fun of others in such an obvious way. I think they wanted to give the appeal of him reading someone like a drag queen would but he just makes the same observations again and again and not in really clever ways (from what I remember!).

Alastor and Vox could've also been used better in the sense that atleast from what I know people in the entertainment industry (especially ones who do interviews or that stuff) won't directly tell someone that they don't like them. It's much more common for them to bring it up in small ways, like asking a question tied to an embarrassing topic to force the person into having to talk about that stuff.

Like I said this isn't really all too important though. What makes me more annoyed is the lack of diversity when it comes to the villains and how they're treated.

To me Viv has an issue with trying for every villain to play a more goofy role even though it doesn't always fit. Of course you can have "stupid" or silly and mostly funny villains but that shouldn't be every single one. When there are multiple villains in a show what makes them interesting is often how they differ from the others in their attitude and motivation and in HH we just don't really get that.

Sir pentious is never taken seriously as a threat and is mostly treated as incompetend, (I know he gets out of being the villain rather quick but even before that) Adam is just constantly portrayed as a dumb and irrational until we are supposed to take him seriously in the end. Vox doesn't do anything in the show apart from be kinda antagonistic towards Alastor and outside of that he is mainly also presented as being a fun villain rather than an intimidating one (very prominently in the song he has with Alastor where Alastor just completely bashes him at the end). Velvette also has nothing to do. Lucifer isn't treated as an antagonist (even though he should be in my opinion) and is shown to be just a "goofy and silly little guy" ig.

And apart from Valentino's genuinely terrifing scene he has with Angel Dust in episode four, he too is shown to be whiny, obnoxious and mostly dumb in his other scenes (this isn't helped by Viv pushing the idea that the Vee's are just like fun little saturday morning cartoon villains outside of the show). I guess Alastor is different in that regard kinda.

This plus the fact that outside of the characters who are obviously villains no one is allowed to be even slightly critical of Charlies idea without being presented as totally irrational, makes for no variety when it comes to the opposition in Hazbin Hotel. It's just kinda dissapointing to me that a show with this opportunity to create different characters gets stuck in the same conflicts and ideas over and over again.

[bobbydagen24]

not sure Wether anyone's done this yet? but last night I kept thinking about the great angst potential of a story where Bro zone have to travel through Branch's memories in order to save his life.

like I said the ideas kept coming to me last night like the story could be Branch gets attacked by some sorta parasite that starts slowly draining his life energy while infecting his mind and keeping him in a deep sleep state.

so the only way to save him is for a group of people to do some magic meditation crap courteously of Creek lol to travel into Branch's mind to chase after the parasite which has travelled through his memories.

so of course Bro zone insist on being the ones to go despite Poppy not being sure about the whole thing due to seeing it as somewhat an invasion of privacy especially for someone as private as Branch tho the others remind her its the only way to save his life.

so from then on its just a perfect excuse for some heart-breaking Angst as the Bros follow the trail of the parasite leading them further and further back into different memories of Branch's.

like I imagine things start off seemingly harmless enough where at first they end up in a memory from later on in his Bunker years but still prior to the first film.

and its just Branch dancing around in his Bunny Pyjamas while the Bros all laugh their heads off thinking its just a funny embarrassing memory.

but Bunny Branch feels a tiny tremor in the ground and instantly runs and hides under his Bed clearly panicked thinking a Bergen is approaching.

his Brothers somewhat saddened to see this try to tell him that it was just a minor tremor and he doesn't need to be afraid but they realise that isn't how it works and they can't actually directly interact with anyone in the memories.

their basically just invisible ghosts who can do nothing but watch the memory play out.

anyway they continue following the Trail of the parasite to memories further back they arrive at one with a teenage looking Branch in the Bunker actually getting ready for an outing.

he's in a suit and is trying to tie a proper bowtie and there's multiple invites from Poppy to a Birthday party on the table making it clear to the Bros what's going on.

young Branch takes a deep breath and with a small present in his hand he goes to the entrance of the Bunker which his bros are all happy to see.

only for their smiles to fade when they see him stop right at the entrance looking at the door and hearing some party music going on in the distance.

the Bros despite knowing he can't hear them are all egging him on trying to encourage him to go but after young Branch looks down.

and has an upset and seemingly frustrated expression after a little internal battle as despite clearly wanting to go join the others he can't bring himself to take the risk.

and he throws the present across the other side of the room and walks back to his room in the bunker.

disappointing his brothers and leaving them somewhat somber.

and the next memory could be of when Branch was still a pretty young kid and the Bunker was still in its early stages.

and maybe if we wanna go really over the top in the sad angst department 😭😭 we see little Branch sitting down at a table with multiple chairs having something to eat and we see he's written his brothers names on the other chairs.

saving spots for them for when they would come back and maybe he even has little pretend conversations with them telling them about everything he did that day like setting up their Hideout aka the Bunker.

ending the conversation with a sad little "" I Hope I see you soon ""

and I like to imagine Floyd eventually gets too emotional after seeing all this stuff and walks off on his own with either Bruce or Clay going after him on their own.

with Floyd telling them that he remembers what he would have been doing around this time all those years ago he was just out living it up getting wasted ( on sugar of course lol )

partying into the long hours of the night being a solo performer traveling around living as a carefree party animal.

the other brother tells him its somewhat pointless blaming himself now and they just need to focus on finding the parasite and saving Branch's life.

but still Floyd says he broke the promise he made before but he very determinedly says he isn't going to break another one to him ever again.

so they move on to the next memory which is little kid Branch finishing building Gary maybe commenting on how he'll never leave him and that he can't wait for him to meet his brothers.

further rubbing salt in the wounds for the Brothers but at this point they try and stay headstrong and keep on going in further and the next stop.

sees them at the Trolls tree their taken aback given the amount of years its been since they saw it this way and then they hear a sound and realise Apon looking up that its the sound of little Branch singing.

the Brothers all see Chef looming in the background and they then see their Grandma running towards Branch only for JD completely caught in the moment not thinking straight.

to start running up the Tree towards them as well their Grandma pushes Branch out of the way and JD just makes it to her only to helplessly phase through her.

as she's grabbed by Chef and they all watch as she's taken away what follows is somber moment of silence as they all realise exactly what Branch lived with all those years on his own.

and the Brothers have to watch the memory version of Branch succumb to Grief and lose his colours while they can't even try and comfort him.

after this they finally reach the final stop which isn't actually a memory its just Branch's Bunker with a grown up version of him inside it.

from here on I'm not exactly 100 percent sure what I'd want to happen or be said between them it can just be a nice little climax where this version is the actual present day Branch just trapped in his mind.

and he feels somewhat ashamed that his Brothers would have seen all these moments from his life but JD says he's sorry he had to live with that burden of watching what happened to their Grandma for so long on his own.

Bruce says he shouldn't have had to go through any of that on his own when he was so young and he wishes he'd have come back at any point as he would have taken him with him back to Vacay and he never would have been alone again.

Clay says that he wishes he'd told them some of this stuff himself when they all first met back up so they could have tried to better understand why he felt so hurt by them.

and Floyd simply gives him a Hug without really saying anything.

you could change the way each Bro zone member reacts if you want I'm not dead set on these reactions for them I just thought they were kinda cute.

anyway from here on its pretty simple they find the parasite it takes the forms of people it thinks will best rattle them based on its knowledge so it takes the form of Chef.

but this is a pretty daft move as the brothers just all proceed to kick its butt without any hesitation and after its beaten they all wake up from the sleep state.

but yeah has anyone done anything like this? as like I said I just started thinking about it last night and I couldn't get the idea out of my head as there's so much angst potential 😭😭😭😭

[two-white-butterflies]

you're losing me (three) | am. targaryen and j. velaryon

Description: The family reunion happens and you announce your engagement with Aemond. You realize that the Targaryens are an eccentric bunch. Rating: General Audiences Author's Note: Sorry for the Taylor erasure, I was just to lazy to come up with songs hehehe part two

You were wearing a white-satin dress that reached past your knees. It was a vintage Chanel '70 - that was certainly worth it's price. After a few hours of interviewing Aemond, you soon realized that their family was old money - coming from the very bowels of fortune, and Aemond was one of the few members that strived to be different - the few members of the family that the world knew.

You've spent a lot of time with the Old Money folks - you used to work in a country club down in Singapore. They were stingy - and stealth with their money. That observation was evident in the outfit that you wore today - nothing too flashy or bold.

"Are we ready?" he asks, and you turn to look at him. His bowtie was crooked - in a cute way. You smile, walking towards him and adjusting his bowtie. "We are." you reply, holding onto his hand while you walked down the marble staircase.

This was the life that you wanted as a teenager - a trophy wife to a rich man, not ever worrying about money or doing work. Your smile deepens, realizing that you looked amazing and sophisticated. It was a facade, but it was nice to pretend once in a while. He leads you out of the hotel room, the valet stops in front of you - flashing the paparazzi's a good view of the couple.

"I'm nervous," you admit, staring at his flashy car. Mingling with the rich was easy, but meeting the rich family of your fake boyfriend was going to be hard. A smile finds itself etched on his lips, opening the door for you to enter. "Just look pretty, my dear - that's all I want." he licked his lips, entering the car after you.

The car stopped in front of a mansion - heck, it actually looked more like castle. There were guests everywhere - and lights that illuminated the pathway that led to a zen garden. "You said family reunion." you quoted him and his lips turned into a thin line - telling you that he didn't expect this much guests either.

"My mother was quite a socialite back in the day - and all of these people were her friends." he explained, trying to regain his calm. He wasn't prepared to show you to his family's entire circle. He opened the compartment beside him - removing the emerald ring from it's box. "Now, remember the story - I proposed on the beach." he reminded and you nod.

A servant begins to open the doors to the car. "Now let's meet the vipers." he took a deep breath, plastering a fake smile on his face before exiting the vehicle and helping you do the same.

Jace wasn't expecting to see you today. The lady in white that managed to steal the heart of his uncle. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't - not when you were already over him. God knows how many times he's listened to the songs that you made about him.

A million little times.

He's only felt alive when you were the one describing him - immortalizing him with your soft melodies. His jaw clenches as he watches his uncle's hands snake around your waist, his hands were in the places that he used to be in. Aemond whispers something in your ears, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"Isn't that (Your Name)?" his mother inquires while holding a glass of champagne. Rhaenyra's eyes widen, seeing the man beside you. "Oh, Jace." she cooed, pitying him in that very situation. "I'm alright, mom." he forced himself to smile - taking a lazy sip of his champagne. Jace couldn't understand why he was missing you.

He had everything he wanted - the respect of his fellow writers, all the money in the world, and freedom. Why was he missing the shackles that he fought to remove? You told him that you wanted to teach him what forever felt like - but why was forever falling away from his fingertips? Now, you are just one of the girls that he's loved before - not the one.

Aemond begins walking in his direction - a smug grin was on his face, but there was no way that his uncle knew. "Jacey," the man teased, one hand wrapped around you - and the other wrapped around a glass of merlot. His uncle was glowing.

"Uncle Almond," Jace responded using their childhood nicknames. "Have you met this lovely lady?" Aemond tilted his head, expecting you to smile warmly at his nephew - but you gawked at the sight of Jace. You didn't know that they were related. "Uncle?" she inquired, choking on air.

"I'm too young to be an uncle, huh?" he chuckled, staring at his nephew up and down. "I didn't expect you here, (Your Name)." Jace proceeded with caution, he stared deep into your eyes - searching for the warmth that used to fill it when you looked at him. "I could say the same," you answered, grip around Aemond's back tightening.

Something shimmery in your fingers catches his eyes. An engagement ring - green, like his step-grandmother's favorite color. "Congratulations on the engagement." he smiled, feeling happy for you. Marriage was all you ever wanted - all that you desired. He was glad that you were about to have it. "Thank you," you smile, bringing the ring closer for him to view it.

"When she's the one wrapped around your arms - you can't let her go." Aemond stared at your face - basking in your glory. Jace nodded, feeling bitterness creep up his throat. "I know the feeling." he paused, taking another sip of his champagne.

He should've fought the world to have you beside him. He should've took you dancing, bowling, skating - bought you flowers everyday, but he didn't. He was blind and entitled. He didn't know what he had until it was gone. "Well - excuse us, Jacey, I believe that dinner is about to begin." Aemond smiles, pulling you away from him.

(your first name): i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings. 3 new songs out at midnight. (courtesy of the 3 sleepless nights where I was talking to @officialaemondtargaryen)

23, 912 comments 2, 903,294 likes

sharterpack: It's so nice seeing mom with a man that allows her to post him. If Jace Velaryon has 0 haters, I am dead.

ynkitten009: ya'll the lyrics were leaked 💀

(your name)'s kitten fanbase ya'll i'm sobbing because y/n wrote "i wouldn't marry me either." for jace, but she wore "i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings." for aemond 😭 JACAERYS VELARYON YOU ARE ON THIN FUCKING ICE.

wandamaximoffdefender "i find myself running home to your sweet nothings." JACE, YOU LITERALLY GAVE HER NOTHING BFFR !

PaperRingsStan13 When he's no longer her Cornelia Street, Sweet Nothing, King of My Heart, Endgame, Cruel Summer, and Peace because someone else is her Lover, Dress, and Paper Rings.

Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing, all of your fans were tagging you in their recent twitter posts. A small chuckle escapes your mouth, and you place the phone on silent mode. "You're doing a good job," he compliments, helping you sit down on your chair. "So (Your Name), should I even call you that? I think sister is much better," Helaena makes her way beside you - you smile at her.

"I think sister is much better too." you answer, and her smile deepens. "I actually love your songs," she began to rant - taking note of all the lyrical devices you used in your songs. "I hyper-fixated on them one time, and I know all of the lyrics." she exaggerated - and Aemond places himself in the middle of the both of you.

"That's enough, Helaena." he whined, seeing that the crowds were beginning to make their way towards the dinner table. His father, Viserys, clinks his glass - earning everyone's attention. "I want to make a toast to my son, Aemond, who brought us his lovely fiancee." Viserys boasted, and everyone begins clapping.

"I want everyone to eat as much as they like - and drink as much as their wives let them." he joked, and the entire crowd laughs. "Our family will only grow bigger." he smiled and everyone settled into their chairs.

part four>>

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @hotchnerswife @itsabby15 @mxxny-lupin @joliettes @kemillyfreitas @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd

[thedeerman]

RadioApple Fic:

Do You Want To Know?

Ch4: Notice

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

TW for descriptions of PTSD symptoms.

Niffty wasn’t someone that paid a whole lot of attention to the dynamics between the individual members of the hotel. She scurried around sweeping floors and stabbing bugs most of the day, but always seemed to notice when something seemed amiss with Alastor. How could she not, with how long they've been bound together? She can’t pretend to know quite how his mind works, but when there’s a shift in his moods, it isn’t missed by the little angel killer. 

And between Niffty’s keen eye and Shadow’s worried glances, she knew something was wrong. It wasn’t often that the two interacted directly, but they had their own way of communication, a lot like the way an old couple does. Looks, glares, shrugs. Glances when no one else is looking. Not even Alastor seemed to know of the odd relationship Niffty and Shadow shared. 

And so it shouldn’t be surprising that Niffty started spending a little more time bug hunting in the general vicinity of the tall, red demon. And maybe doing a little bit more eavesdropping than usual. After all, she might be the only soul in the hotel that could go unnoticed by the radio demon. And what she started noticing was that Alastor and the bad boy king were fighting less and looking at each other more. It started a week or two after the new hotel was put together, and slowly, ever so slowly, it started looking like something else was starting to form. Not hatred, not quite a rivalry even. Niffty couldn’t place it. The little maid shrugged and went back the task at hand: stabbing little bugs and running about the building.

The morning started out like every other recent one for Lucifer. Open eyes, remember where he is, think of his daughter, think of Alastor. That last part was actually getting ridiculous, thank you very much. Coffee time, he thinks to himself as he rolls out of bed. And then, unexpectedly, I miss sharing my bed with someone. He shakes his head. His loneliness really can’t rear its ugly head this early in the day. As he stretches and yawns, he struggles to remember if he was scheduled to be doing something today. Charlie will let me know, he thinks. Snapping his fingers, he changes from his comfy apple patterned pajamas into his usual outfit and glances at himself in the mirror. He decides that maybe today he’ll shake it up a bit, but can’t quite decide on how. He almost gives up, but then has an idea. With a wave of his hand, his plain black bowtie transforms into one that's a deep blood red with black accents. He looks at himself in the mirror again and acknowledges that in all likeliness, no one will notice the change. But he smiles, thinking that it was nice just to change something for himself for once, not to look a certain way for someone else. 

As Lucifer gets ready to leave his room, he remembers the envelope on his desk. He looks at it for a moment and thoughts of its recipient flood his mind. He rolls his eyes at himself and stuffs the letter in his pocket. Lifting his hand to open a portal downstairs, he paused. Maybe… I should walk. He thinks. Maybe I’ll run into… His thoughts immediately screech to a halt as there’s a knock on his door. He panics for a moment, wondering if his rogue thoughts really could summon the bastard. But then he hears “Dad! Are you up?” and relaxes. “One second honey!” he responds, taking one last look in the mirror before heading to the door. 

Charlie’s surprise visit only took a moment, as she quickly explained that something important had come up and the morning meeting was canceled. Before Lucifer could respond to this, Charlie held out an envelope and piece of paper. “It’s your letter for the day, and the prompt for the next one. I already talked to the person who had your name, so I figured I could deliver it before I’m off! Oh! And do you have yours? I can make sure it gets to you know who on my way out!” Charlie’s smile always put Lucifer at ease, even with the mention of the demon that was always clouding his thoughts. He strode over to his desk to grab the letter he wrote and happily handed her his envelope for the day. “Oh! One last thing before I go- Please don’t forget to check the chore board for the day!” Ah yes, the chore board. Whenever Charlie was going to be out of the hotel for the day, she made sure to fill out a whiteboard with everyone’s tasks. He nodded, still smiling. “Of course. Anything for you, duckling.” With that, Charlie smiled and turned to go off and do whatever else it was she needed to get done before leaving. 

Lucifer’s curiosity got the best of him and before he could even get back to his desk, he was tearing open the letter. Dropping the envelope on the floor next to the first one, he sat and read the letter. 

“Name one thing that you’re curious about in regards to your person.”

One thing I am curious about is your absence throughout the day. Aside from scheduled meetings and chores, you almost always seem to be missing.

Lucifer’s face drops a bit. Could it be Husk? No, he didn’t seem like the type to make it so obvious, but then again… The fallen angel sat at his desk pondering for several minutes and thought about his recent interactions with the bartender. Remembering his drink. Listening to his woes. Those golden eyes drilling into his soul… Lucifer shook his head. I suppose it doesn’t really matter much either way. Then he looked at the paper for his next letter. His next letter to… Alastor… He’d spent the past couple of weeks doing everything in his power to avoid the radio demon, both physically and mentally. Thinking about him always led to unpleasant thoughts and feelings, so he would just shove it down and out of his mind whenever possible. But when he was forced to acknowledge the guy, there was just no denying his magnetic energy. 

He looked at the paper in front of him. The new prompt reads “Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.” The devil groans. There are tons of things about Alastor that interest him. Everything from how he talks to how he slinks through the shadows to his talent on the piano that he’s only very briefly experienced but would honestly like to again and- UGH. Come on, Lucifer. This isn’t that hard. After a few more moments of being lost in his endless thoughts, he decides that this can wait until later. He remembered Charlie’s instruction to check the white board downstairs and opened up his portal, this time deciding for sure against walking, and stepped into the lobby. 

Alastor’s night was long and restless. Images of his battle with Adam flashed in his mind one after another, and sitting in the dark and quiet of his room made it so much worse. There were no external stimuli to focus on to keep himself grounded. Instead, despite his best attempts, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Adam’s masked face again. The carelessness of his fighting style. That guitar/ax monstrosity. The blinding light that broke his staff, rendering him defenseless. The swing of the holy weapon that tore through his very being, sending him flying against a wall. Those terrible bright golden wings looming over his damaged body as he melted away into the shadows in his last effort to survive. That laugh. The buffoon’s last words before nearly taking Alastor out of existence may have just been a shitty remark, but for a terrifying moment, radio really was almost dead. 

In the early morning hours, the restless demon decided sleep wasn’t worth the effort anymore and got out of bed. His never-failing smile was feeling a bit more strained than it should. He picked up his microphone staff, clutching it in his hands, again remembering the sensation of light tearing through the middle of it. The radio demon closed his eyes for a moment before putting a happy demon face on and snapping his fingers to change into his usual outfit. With that he melted into shadow and made his way down to the kitchen, where a certain mug desperately needed to be filled with hot, bitter, beautiful caffeine. 

Before he can get there, however, he hears movement coming from the meeting room. He peers past the doorway to see that Charlie is scribbling names and chores on a board in a hurry. Alastor raised an eyebrow as he considered whether or not he should disturb the girl in the middle of her task, but then remembered his reason for heading to the kitchen to begin with. He continued down the hallway, this time walking instead of traveling through the shadows. After last night, he needed something to wake him up.

And something certainly did. It wasn’t the coffee, or the flurry of demons coming and going as they got breakfast or prepared for their day. It wasn’t the princess, first asking for his envelope from the day prior- to which he reached into a small portal to grab it from his desk- or even the second time she spoke to him a while later when she was on her way out and handed him the newly acquired envelope from his anonymous writer. At the time, he placed the envelope, and new prompt paper, into his coat pocket to bother with later on. But no, it was none of these small events that woke him up. It was an even smaller one. It was when he decided to check his assigned duty for the day. His eyes grew wide and his smile grew tense as he read the board two, three, four, five times just to make sure that he understood what he was seeing.

Unfortunately, his sleepless eyes were not deceiving him. The task itself wasn’t awful- Clearing out a room that had been being used as storage for various things and then redesigning the room in a new layout. The details were left in a folder pinned to the board with a magnet. Simple. Easy. A ONE person job. But no, of course dear Charlotte wouldn’t want any of them taking on too big of a project on their own… Alastor sighed. He may as well accept that the outlook of his day was not great. He took the folder containing the plans for the new room and his third mug of coffee to the lobby, where he waited for his majesty to arrive.

It wasn’t terribly long before the king made his appearance, opening a hole in the fabric of Hell and stepping through it into the hotel lobby. The radio demon watched, silently, as the king started towards the meeting room and the chore board. When he came back moments later, the king’s eyes scanned the lounge area until they landed on the radio demon. Waiting for him. Alastor noticed that the king’s demeanor seemed flustered all of a sudden, and tilted his head to a degree that wouldn’t have been possible were he alive. Lucifer sighed and slumped his shoulders (in acceptance?), as he started walking towards Alastor perched on his favorite chair. 

Time to put on a show, the demon thinks to himself. His smile grew and his eyes widened as he made eye contact with the short king himself. Before he could stand, Lucifer held his hand out. Alastor glanced at his open palm and then back up at the angel standing before him. His glowing yellow eyes seem to pierce through his soul for just a moment before Lucifer finally says, “The folder?” Alastor blinks. Lucifer sighs and continues. “The folder with the plans that Charlie left? Mind if I take a moment to look it over?” Alastor blinked once more, feeling completely frozen. He expected the fallen angel to demand that he hand over the instructions and storm off to do the task himself, or at least give the sinner some sort of jab about his involvement being too much, or something, anything- “Uh, hello..?” Alastor is ripped from his thoughts as Lucifer speaks up again. “Why of course, your majesty!” The demon stands up, enjoying how much the king of hell himself had to tilt his head back just to look up at him. Alastor loved looking down at the king. Figuratively and literally. 

After supplying Lucifer with the folder of notes, the radio demon started walking towards the room in question. The devil didn’t follow immediately, first looking over the papers left to them by his daughter. Eventually, Lucifer catches up and starts talking. Alastor struggled to keep his face from showing his disinterest in the words coming from the fallen angel’s mouth, and yet his mind fails to wander the way it usually does when he’s ignoring someone. His attention stays firmly in the present, on the voice of the angel walking beside him. The words meant nothing, but his voice was-

“Hey, are you even listening?” Alastor feels his ears perk up a bit at the angel’s tone. “Yes, of course, sire. How could I ever fail to acknowledge the royalty walking beside me? You have my full attention!” His response was heavily coated in sarcasm, but it wasn’t a lie. He was paying attention to Lucifer. Just not to the words coming from his mouth. Either way, he was listening more closely now after being called out. “So, as I was saying,” the king continued, “Charlie wants the hotel staff’s stuff on the third floor, in that room next to the elevator, so we should probably do that part first. The new guests are going to have to keep their things to what they can fit in their room so we can have this space open before we remodel.” He continued listing off the steps to finishing the task as smoothly as possible while Alastor continued walking in silence beside him. 

Lucifer wasn’t exactly thrilled at being partnered up with the radio demon for this little task, but the faster they got it done, the faster Lucifer could stop forcing himself to keep his eyes off of one of the most interesting beings in the building. Why was that so hard? They worked without speaking at first, but Lucifer couldn’t get his mind off of today’s writing prompt. 'Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.' First of all, it hasn’t gone unnoticed that these prompts are phrased really weird. 'Your Person?' Who says that? Alastor was far from what the angel would call “his person.” Lucifer’s cheeks warm just a tad as he shakes the thoughts from his head. Secondly, he didn’t want to be interested in this guy, not one bit. And yet… 

In the middle of his wandering thoughts, he noticed a slight movement from the corner of his eye. When he looked, what looked back was Alastor’s shadow. Lucifer scanned the room. Alastor himself had left a few moments ago, but his odd shadow thing remained. It smiled, and although it was creepy just like Alastor’s, it was also… Warm? Friendly? Lucifer had to admit, the ability to pick up on the intentions and emotions of beings around him was always useful when it came up. He couldn’t read most souls very easily, but for some reason this shadow was expressive enough to make itself clear, even without speaking or moving. Lucifer cocked his head just a bit and opened his mouth to say something, but before any words could come, the shadow frowned and fled out of the open door. In an instant, Lucifer was left alone in the room again. But now, his curiosity about the odd thing that followed Alastor around was at the forefront of his mind as he worked to sort through boxes of stored items. I’ve already mentioned his shadow, so maybe it wouldn’t be super weird to put that in today’s letter too… 

Lucifer’s mind continued to wander further and further as he stood in the mostly empty room, briefly contemplating how to proceed with the task he was given. There were only a few things left that had to be removed from the room, so he used his magic to start gathering them up to move them. It was only after a floating box broke under the weight of whatever was in it that he realized, too late, that not all of the boxes were exactly… sturdy. He rolled his eyes and started gathering up the miscellaneous things that ended up on the floor. He was nearly done cleaning up his mess when something from the broken box caught his eye. A…radio? I wonder if it belongs to Alastor… It was an older style, round on top and made of shiny reddish wood that felt beautifully smooth when Lucifer picked the object up. He flipped it around a few times to make sure nothing on it seemed damaged and went to place it back with the other objects from the box. 

Of course, before he could get there, Alastor comes back into the room. Lucifer freezes momentarily, looking rapidly between the demon in the doorway and the radio in his hands. Shit shit shit “Uhh… It fell from a box, but it seems okay, uh, is- um, is it yours?” The demon didn't move at first, only his eyes fell down to the radio in the fallen angel’s hands. After a brutal second of nothing, Alastor speaks. “Well, it was mine, but it seems to have found a new owner.” Lucifer’s mouth falls open but fails to produce any words. The radio demon continues, “I have plenty of them, of course. I’d noticed that you’ve never mentioned my radio show, so I suppose you’ve been unable to listen, hmm?” Lucifer is still in shock. He’s definitely blushing. Why? Don’t ask him, he sure as fuck doesn’t know. But what he does know is that Alastor, Radio Demon Alastor, the batshit crazy asshole that seems to hate Lucifer with a passion, just offered him a gift. And not just any gift, a beautiful old fashioned radio, so he could listen to… 

“Shall we move on to the next phase of this little project?” Alastor asks, as if he didn’t just shatter Lucifer’s understanding of him as a person. Why would he give him something, without asking anything in return… “No.” Lucifer frowns a bit at the radio in his hands. “You wouldn’t give me this without expecting something back.” The demon’s eyes opened a bit wider at the accusation. “What is it that you want from me?” Lucifer demands. 

Alastor slowly steps into the room, towards Lucifer, never breaking eye contact. The angel does everything in his power not to step backwards, to hold his ground. This is going to end in another argument… At least another week in group therapy if I can’t keep my cool. He stands there, unmoving, until Alastor is only inches away. Please don’t turn this into a thing… Face to face, the two stared at each other for a very long moment. Too long of a moment. Just as Lucifer began to consider fleeing through a quick portal back to his room just to escape the sudden tension, Alastor put a small piece of paper in Lucifer’s hand, careful not to touch him directly. The demon never broke eye contact, not until he quickly turned and left the room. 

Lucifer was left awestruck at what just happened. The whole exchange couldn’t have lasted longer than a minute, and yet it felt like it had been a full hour since picking up the old wooden radio. Breaking from his trance, he remembered to look at the paper in his hand. It was a… business card? In a delicate cursive font, it read “Tune in every evening at 4:30 for a broadcast with style” Under that was a number. A radio channel. It took a moment to sink in that this was one of the cards Alastor handed out to some of the guests as an invitation to tune in to his evening broadcast. He’s… Inviting me to listen to his show…? Lucifer wasn’t sure he would be interested in whatever it was Alastor considered to be a “broadcast with style,” but if he took the radio, it was an unspoken deal. He would be expected to listen at least once. He looked down at the device’s shiny surface, thinking of where in his room he could set it. Sighing, he accepted that this might not be a terrible thing. Hopefully it’ll at least help with these damn letters. 

It’s some hours later when Alastor retires to his tower to prepare for the evening’s broadcast. He didn’t host a live talk show every night, more often than not his broadcasts were of his preferred music. Tonight, he was planning on throwing on some jazz tunes. Who didn’t like jazz? More importantly, he was also planning on leaving the tower during his show. He couldn’t help it, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. He had to know.

Earlier, when Alastor walked into the room he and Lucifer were tasked with organizing, he caught the fallen angel holding an old radio, looking over it with care, and the radio demon had an idea. His smile became manic, his eyes sharp. He slowly, menacingly, tried to back the startled king into a corner. But the angel would not budge. He trembled the tiniest bit, holding the radio close to his chest, his eyes widening as he waited for Alastor’s next move. The demon absolutely relished the look on Lucifer’s face. It wasn’t fear, no. That tremble was in… anticipation? Anticipation of what, he wondered? Another spat? Alastor didn’t have the energy today. Besides, he had much bigger ideas…

And now, at 4:45 in the evening, the first step of that plan was put into motion. He slipped through the halls in the shadows, thankfully not seen by anyone on the way. As he reached the other end of the hotel, he pondered what the best option was to go about this. He wanted to be discreet, he only needed to know if Lucifer had taken the bait. The demon sent his shadow ahead, into the king’s room. 

Alastor made his way back to his own side of the building after getting the piece of information he needed. He didn’t bother snooping around this time, he’d wait for Lucifer to be out for that. His smile widened as he walked down the long hall back to his tower. He wondered how many terrible things he could put on the air right now, things that would rattle the king, make him wish he had never set foot here. No… Alastor thought. Wouldn’t be worth the effort… Just need to have patience. But right alongside the thoughts of how to get under Lucifer’s skin, how to make the king squirm under his gaze, there was another thought lingering. A thought that just kept repeating itself, over and over and over again. But unlike the more recent times these intruding thoughts had happened, this wasn’t one of fear or panic or death. It was two simple words. Words that meant nothing. Words he shouldn’t even bother acknowledging. But his mind was far from under his control, and the radio demon’s smile slightly fell into a look of annoyance as he allowed the thought to be heard. He’s listening.

Back in his tower, he decided to turn his attention to the letter in his pocket. He had completely forgotten about it in his exhausted early morning state. Alastor removed the letter in the same fashion that he did the day before, once again burning the envelope into a pile of ash as he watched. Opening the folded letter, he read the words on the paper before him. 

“Name one thing that you’re curious about in regards to your person”

Alastor,

One thing I’m curious about is your shadow. Is it a part of you? Its own being? Does it make its own choices? Does it have a name?

The demon’s face doesn’t give away his irritation, but the shadow notices nonetheless. It looks over his shoulder, reading the letter. Alastor brushes the entity aside, giving it a clear warning glare. The shadow frowned and settled on the floor, unwilling to further upset its master. Why would anyone be curious about this…thing? It was a tool. No more, no less. Of course it doesn't have a name. Alastor paused, imagining all of his possessions being named. His microphone? Coat? Coffee mug? Ah yes, perhaps they ALL deserve a title! The demon chuckled to himself at the thought. The questions in the letter do make Alastor think for a moment, however. The shadow wasn’t him, but it wasn’t not him. And it did make some choices without direct orders. Maybe it was a tad more than a tool. Perhaps it was more like an extra limb that sometimes had a mind of its own. Yes, that was more accurate. 

After deciding on that, Alastor turns to the day’s letter prompt. It reads, “Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.” His eyes close for a moment. This shouldn’t be entirely difficult. It would be easy to throw a couple of insults in there as well for good measure. The demon calmly listened to the jazz song playing on his show, glad for some quality music as background noise. He spent several minutes there, leaning back in his desk chair with his eyes closed. He was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. He sat there, without a single violent thought, thinking of the angel living on the other side of the hotel. Alastor let his mind wander farther than usual. He let his mind wander towards Lucifer.

His power. His potential. His sudden, (previously absent) dedication to the hotel and his daughter. Ah, yes. That’s a good one for the letter, the demon thought. What else? His likely struggle with being tall enough to ride any of the rollercoasters at his flashy little theme park? Ha, he’s just so small! The demon laughed to himself quietly, thinking of his many ‘short king’ jokes. Such a tiny thing. And without that ridiculous hat it’s even more noticeable. He thought for a moment about being so close to the king earlier today, when he tried to intimidate him into backing away and failed. The way the angel had to arch his neck just to look up at him, their absolutely ridiculous height difference making it impossible for the demon not to look down at him. It was amusing, that’s for sure. But as Alastor’s mind continues to wander, he wonders how else he could manage to get close enough to the tiny king to get to look down on him like that again…

Alastor’s eyes shot wide open. He wanted to hit himself. What the fuck? He could attempt to lie to himself, say that his desire was a simple manifestation of his need to be the most dominant energy in the room. And in some ways, it was. But there was more. More that Alastor just could not figure out. Why was he planning to be around him again? He needed to get this letter done and over with and move on with his evening. 

“Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.”

Alastor sighs as he gives in to his frustration and starts writing whatever he can come up with.

On the other side of the hotel, Lucifer fought with the very same piece of paper, barely managing to put the thing together before bed. He attempted to do it earlier while listening to some music, but… Let’s be fair, Alastor’s radio show was distracting! It was… surprisingly nice. Lucifer kept waiting for the calming music to stop and the strange, demonic talk show to start, but it never did. Instead, he slowly drifted to sleep only 30 minutes in. 

Lucifer awoke later that night, having missed dinner by at least an hour. He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, reaching for the radio now playing nothing but static. After turning it off, he once again remembered that he hadn’t yet completed his daughter’s assignment. Turning to the empty page again, he begins to write. 

Chapter five below!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Breaking the Class Ceiling Chapter 2

This is set in early 1900s U.S.A., during the Edwardian era with some style changes into the upcoming Art Nouveau period. I've changed history a bit for this. Pretending that America didn't have a full Civil War and trying to create a more optimistic outcome for the purposes of the story. I've also tried to research what the rules for society/socializing were back then, and tweaked some of them.

Warnings for upcoming chapters: minor character death, some sexual harassment/assault (but nothing too graphic or traumatic), smut

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You did what?!” George Barnes exclaimed. Bucky had gotten home late and reported everything to his father.

“What? You did something similar to Mama, didn’t you? And it worked! You married her!” Bucky explained.

“Yes, but at a great personal cost to her. She lost all the backing of her family, and we struggled for money and status,” George replied tiredly.

“I was trying to make an impression so she would remember me. She is going to send a card, an invitation to us to come visit and see her greenhouse.”

George gaped at him, his mouth flapping like a fish.

“Come now, Papa, this is a good thing! She may be rich but she’s not uppity or holier-than-thou. And she wants to show you her tropical plants,” he finished, waggling his eyebrows at his father.

George hesitantly smiled, “Tropical plants? How interesting,” he mused. “But I am still upset with you. That was a huge gamble to take, and in such a public place with high society.”

Bucky smirked. “And yet here we are,” he spread his arms wide. “With an official invitation and an excited host. Sometimes a little scandal is good. And I like her,” he looked away, blushing. “She’s…different.”

***

Three days later they received the invitation. You had insisted in the invitation that they meet casually, but George was beside himself, pulling out different outfits until he found one he decided was good enough to wear to meet you.

“Papa, she’s not the Queen of England,” Bucky said exasperatedly.

“No, but she was made a lady by her. And she is America’s princess,” George replied, adjusting his bowtie again. “Her mother and your mother were good friends, you know? She sent a letter of condolences when Winnie died, and I sent her one when her parents passed. I revere her, Buck, and she deserves respect.”

Bucky sighed as he thought about his mother. Winifred Barnes was as good as they came. When she passed the funeral was packed. The community had lined the streets, throwing flowers at her casket as it was brought to the cemetery. It had been difficult for Bucky when she died, but he was comforted in knowing that she had been so appreciated and loved.

“I understand, Papa. Now come, let’s get going. Her car is here.”

“Oh! Let’s be off!” George almost ran out the door.

When they pulled up to the house the flowers from the party were gone and replaced with vines that had peculiar flowers hanging from them. As they exited the car George gasped at the flower.

“Bucky! Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“No, it’s strange, isn’t it?” Bucky replied, watching his father go up to a vine hanging down by the front door.

“This is the lamprocapnos spectabilis, also known as a bleeding heart,” he spoke reverently as he gently inspected the flowers. “They originate from parts of Asia, I wonder how she got them here?”

“Very carefully, Mr. Barnes,” your voice lilted through the air behind them.

Bucky whipped around, a smile brightening his face as he took you in. You were much more casually dressed today in what could be considered bed clothes: a long, off-white night robe over a strapped smock dress. Your hands were covered in gardening gloves that you were quickly taking off, sweat on your brow, your hair in a loose braid that swung over your shoulder, and barefoot.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you continued, reaching your hand out to him in greeting.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Y/L/N,” George took your hand, bringing it up to his mouth for a quick kiss.

“Oh, so it runs in the family,” you joked, flashing Bucky smile. He blushed and looked down.

“I do apologize for my son’s brashness, Miss Y/L/N. I am a bad example to him,” George interjected.

“No apologies needed, I enjoy causing a scene. Makes life more exciting!” you giggled. You turned to Bucky, reaching your hand out to him for a greeting. He quickly took it but did not kiss your knuckles this time, feeling put on the spot about his actions from before.

“Hm, no kiss this time, Bucky?” you pouted, your fingers squeezing his minutely.

Bucky chuckled, then decided to have fun and cause the scene you wanted. He leaned in towards your face, swerving to the side to kiss your cheek quickly and pulled back. Your eyes were wide, your lips fighting a big smile and your fingers squeezing harder. George gasped lightly next to you.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” Bucky greeted you, squeezing your fingers back and then letting them fall.

You gave him a small hum, then twirled around to the door. “Come Mr. Barnes! I’ve been told you have quite the green thumb.”

You took George’s arm and led them both into the house. After walking through the front entrance and the ballroom, George looking around wildly as you chatted him up, you kept walking forward through the doors you’d entered at the party then took a sharp left. George was huffing as he tried to keep up, Bucky chuckling at his effort. As they walked through another set of doors the room was doused in sunlight. It was large and open, glass windows insulating what looked like hundreds of plants. Some were like trees, reaching high and almost touching the glass ceiling, while others were stout sitting in pots on tables. George gasped loudly as they entered, his eyes flitting around and trying to take in everything. Bucky gawked at the amount of plants, almost all of them looking more tropical and exotic then the next. He wasn’t a green thumb like his father, but he appreciated the amount of time, care, and money it took to get all of these here.

“My my, Miss Y/L/N, this is…” George trailed off, his arm tightening around yours. “How? These are all so…my god,” he couldn’t form a full sentence.

“I’m glad you like it,” you cheered, your hand holding his and squeezing it tightly. “Oh! I have to introduce you to someone,” you steered them over to a man that was hidden amongst the plants. As they approached he straightened up and dusted off his hands. He had olive toned skin, dark brown eyes and a full black beard, a white turban atop his head, and a floor length dress that matched the colors of the green plants around him. He gave them all a polite smile.

“Mr. Barnes, Bucky,” you pointed to each of them, “this is Amir Habib. He’s my good friend and gardener. He hails from an area in the Ottoman empire called Falasteen, or on our maps, Palestine,” you explained.

“Hello, as-salaam 'alaikum,” Amir greeted them as he bowed at the waist, then stepped forward, extending his hand to each man in turn. After the greetings he turned back towards the plants.

“Amir, would you please show Mr. Barnes around? He is quite interested in plants.”

Amir’s eyes lit up as he looked at George again. “Yes of course, Mr. Barnes, where would you like to start?”

“Anywhere!” George laughed, following Amir as they walked further into the greenhouse, leaving you and Bucky behind.

You turned to Bucky with a wide smile. “I’m sure they’ll be busy for a while, I’d like to show you something else if you don’t mind?”

Bucky nodded, following her out of the greenhouse and back into the main house. She walked through the halls into what looked like a study, ushering Bucky inside and shutting the door behind him, then walking to the desk by the bay window. He stood and waited for her to instruct him, looking around at all the books and papers. It was a little messy, reminding him of his office at work, but something about it was endearing amongst the grand decor.

“Ah, here it is,” you announced, pulling a book from one of the drawers. “Come, sit with me,” you instructed and led him to a couch near the fireplace across the room from the desk. He followed you and sat an appropriate distance away from you, which you ignored and sat closer to him. You opened the book, flipping through a few pages before landing on one and handing the book over to him. He took it and upon realizing what he was looking at almost dropped it. It was a photograph book, multiple different black and white images staring back up at him. And on this particular page was a larger photo of two young women, both beautiful and smiling softly. He didn’t recognize the one on the left, but the one on the right was his mother.

Her eyes were bright, the smile she wore lopsided, her hands intertwined with the woman’s next to her. She was dressed in the style of the time, a large hat on her head and pearls around her throat. She was much younger than he could ever remember seeing her, and he’d never seen those pearls before. This must have been before she married his father.

“That’s my mother,” you pointed to the woman on the left, speaking quietly. Bucky focused on the other woman briefly. Yes, he could tell it was your mother. You were almost the spitting image of her but with a differently shaped face and differently colored hair, thanks to your father. He could feel himself smiling as he gazed at the picture.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered, one of his fingers running gently across the face of his mother.

You hummed in agreement. “My mother always spoke in such kindness about your mother. Always hoped that we’d be able to come home someday and call upon her, but my father was always so busy in England and preferred it there. They were childhood friends. She called her her soulmate,” she said wistfully. “She was inconsolable when she heard about Winifred passing,” she added quietly. “Wouldn’t get out of bed for weeks. And then when she died a couple of years later, all I could think of was how at least now she gets to spend the afterlife with her soulmate.”

Bucky didn’t realize he was crying until he felt your fingers swipe along his cheek. He looked up at you, and saw you were blinking back unshed tears.

“Thank you, Y/N, for letting me see this. I had almost forgotten what she looked like,” he said, looking back at the picture.

“Of course. I’ve already commissioned a local painter to do a portrait of her from this photograph so I can give you a copy,” you said matter-of-factly.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he looked back up at you, his mouth hanging open. “Oh, you don’t have to do that Y/N, really,” he retorted, wiping away his tears and facing towards her.

“Pish posh, yes I do,” you waved him off then took one of his hands in yours and fully faced him. “It’s the least I could do.”

“I feel like I need to do something for you,” Bucky replied, looking down bashfully at your intertwined hands.

“Can you not accept a gift? Just because someone wants to give you something doesn’t mean you owe them anything in return, Bucky,” you chastised him, eyes earnestly boring into his.

He snorted. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N, and I appreciate the gift. I just don’t have a great history with people who have helped me and then not expected something back, or favors.”

“That’s unfortunate,” you said sadly. “How about this, I will give this to you, and you can do something for me?”

“Like what?” he asked hesitantly.

“I want you to…” you trailed off, looking around the room and thinking about it. “Hm, two things.”

“Oh dear,” he huffed.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you laughed. “What I want is one: for you to accompany me to Mrs. Romanov’s invitation to see the vaudeville show. She said she knows you and would love to have you?” she asked questioningly. Bucky’s smile dropped at the name. “Oh, you do know her…and well apparently?” you asked, a sly smile on your face.

Bucky huffed again. “Yes, we um, were courting once. We’re still friends, of course,” he added.

You nodded in understanding. “But she married someone else.”

“Yes,” he said curtly.

You eyed him for a moment, dropping his hand. “Do you still love her?”

“No! No no,” Bucky quickly reassured you. “No, I’m sorry, my reply made it seem so. It’s just that I…uh,” he wrung his hands.

You stood up suddenly and walked to the chair that faced the couch, taking a seat. “Bucky, if it isn’t obvious to you yet let me make myself abundantly clear,” you started, setting your hands in your lap, one of the sleeves of your robe falling down and exposing your shoulder. Bucky watched it fall, quickly flicking his eyes back up to yours when you didn’t immediately fix it. You eyed him ruefully, leaving the sleeve and pursing your lips. “I am not a lover of propriety and etiquette, as I’m sure you have been able to ascertain. I find it incredibly stifling. I do not enjoy watching my words and actions, and so I will speak plainly and frankly. I am a wealthy woman, and therefore I can get away with sherking societal norms and expectations, whereas most other women don't have the same luxury. I can marry whomever I want without the permission or acceptance of any other men in my life, as much as that pains my uncle. If it hasn’t been made clear, and as I’ve said before, I enjoy your candor,” you reminded him. Your eyes never left him as you spoke. “I enjoy when others can meet me where I’m at, speak plainly with me and make their intentions clear. I do not play courting games. You made your intentions clear at the party, and although it caused a stir, I liked it,” your eyes brightened at the memory. Bucky swallowed harshly. “I came home because I’m getting older, and need to find someone to make a life with, create a family with to hand down my fortune and help me make a difference in this world. Out of all the men I’ve met over the past few weeks since coming home, the one that I find most interesting and enjoyable, is you.” Bucky could feel his heart thumping wildly as he listened. She liked him, too. “I know that your association with me gives you and your father a leg up in society, and that it gives you clout and opens doors for you. If we were to court, it would be a great advantage to you. I’m under no pretense to how this looks, and I quite frankly don’t care. Now if you still hold a candle for another woman, married or not, now is the time to tell me so that I may move on and look elsewhere. I don’t want to waste my time,” you ended briskly, looking away to the fireplace as you leaned back into the chair.

Bucky quickly stood and walked to where you sat, kneeling down before you and taking your hands into his. “No, Y/N, no I don’t love her. I did at one point, but no longer. My reaction is solely based on the fact that, as you said, any union I make must be advantageous to me, otherwise my father and I will struggle til our dying days. I courted her hoping for that and was ultimately rejected because of my class, so it’s merely my own frustration getting the better of me. I did act brashly at your party, and it was on purpose to catch your attention, but I agree that it’s suffocating, and I feel free with you to express myself fully. I don’t want to waste your time,” he finished, his fingers rubbing your knuckles.

You watched him, delighting in his kneeling form before you. You smirked, leaning forward in the chair towards him. Bucky willed himself not to move, letting you get close to his face, swallowing harshly again.

“So you’ll come with me to the show?” you asked playfully.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Hm,” you hummed, then your eyes slowly looked him up and down. He felt like he was melting under your stare. “Now for my second request,” you reminded him. “I want to court you.”

Bucky felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs. You waited for him to process your proposal. He felt a smirk come to his face now.

“You sure you want to court a clerk?” he teased.

You laughed loudly at him, falling back into the chair again, your hands dropping his and holding your chest as you giggled gleefully. He enjoyed watching you laugh so freely, his hands resting on the chair cushion beside your knees as you collected yourself.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, leaning back up towards him.

“Then I say yes, my lady,” he smiled widely at you.

You grimaced. “Ugh, no, please don’t call me that, just my name will suffice.”

“As much as I enjoy calling you by your name, in public as we court it might do us well to call each other something else, a pet name, don’t you think?” Bucky interjected.

“You think so? Like what? Should I call you my dear?” you reached out and tucked a hair behind his ear. He shivered at the tickle of your fingers against his skin. “Or…my darling?” you purred, your fingers slipping to his jaw. Bucky’s eyes shut tight, his hands balling into fists beside your legs. “Ah, my darling, it suits you,” you scratched the stubble on his chin. “What will you call me?”

Bucky breathed slowly through his nose trying to calm himself. He didn’t realize that a pet name would have such an effect on him. He opened his eyes and met your stare. Your eyes were shining mirthfully, the smirk still on your face.

“What words could possibly do you justice?” Bucky spoke slowly. The smirk on your face dropped. “All the pretty words I could think of would not be enough to describe what I think of you. Would you prefer my beloved?” he slid one of his hands to your knee, squeezing the flesh of your lower thigh. You gasped lightly, your eyes following his movements. “My intended?” he slid his other hand over your other knee, mirroring his actions from before. Your hands fell to cover his. “Or something more intimate. Maybe, my pretty doll?” Your face scrunched into something that screamed lust, your fingers gripping your legs as he started to slide his hands down, hooking them around your calves and tickling the back of your legs. Your faces were dangerously close now as you stared into each others’ eyes. Bucky looked from your eyes to your lips, a smirk now on his face. “That’s it, my pretty doll.” He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek like before but this time precariously close to your mouth, letting his lips stay on your skin longer. You followed his lips slightly as he pulled away.

“We should go check on my father,” he whispered, his fingers still tickling your legs.

You closed your eyes, your hands now in fists as you evened out your breathing, trying to regain control.

“Yes,” you sighed, obviously frustrated, “wouldn’t want anyone thinking something untoward is happening.”

“Yes, but no,” Bucky chuckled as he pulled his hands away and rocked back on his feet. “I need to end this teasing torture before I do something that I shouldn’t.”

Your eyes twinkled as you opened them at his insinuation, a coy smile on your lips as you stood from the chair. “Ah, I see. Well come then, my darling, before I tempt you to sin. We must announce our courtship.”

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: A short Valentine's fic in which Finn helps Azul with cutting fish. For a price.

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Kisses

"You're slicing just a bit thick, dear."

Azul paused and cocked his head at the fish he had just pulled his knife from.

"Am I?" He questioned, an irritated feeling beginning to swell.

"You must cut it like this," Finn explained softly, taking Azul's hand and guiding him through the motion. The knife cut perfectly through the fish and hit the chopping board with a dull thud.

Azul' brow furrowed, and he gnawed on his lip in frustration.

"I've been trying to do that for the past ten minutes." He snapped. "I don't have the same skill with blades as you."

Finn smiled a little, amused. "Patience. I've been helping Papa prep fish for as long as I can remember, and your mother doesn't work with this type. You'll get there eventually, with practice."

Azul let out a small breath through his nose and tried to beat back his exasperation.

"I just - I master most things quickly. Why can't I get a basic thing like this right?"

Finn didn't answer for a moment. He wrapped his arms around Azul's waist and rested his head on his arm.

"I can't say. It's just something you struggle with. I'll gladly assist you until you grasp it. For a price, of course."

"Mm? And what would that be?"

"Perhaps a kiss for every lesson." Finn replied, tilting his head to the side to grin at Azul. "A kiss well done, if you will."

"Really now..." Azul tapped his pen against his lips and hummed, then carefully picked up the knife.

Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he carefully sliced through the fish just as Finn instructed, grinning when the result turned out to be just like Finn's.

"Does that mean I get a kiss now?" Azul asked, trying to pretend he didn't sound as excited as he did.

"Of course you do." Finn replied , tugging Azul down by his bowtie so they were eye to eye. "A student of Octavinelle would never go back on his word."

He leaned in close, and Azul felt felt his heart rate quicken drastically, the beating obnoxiously loud in his ears.

Soft lips brushed against his cheek before pulling away, leaving him to stare in disbelief and disappointment.

"Finn-"

"What?" Finn asked innocently. "I said a kiss. I didn't say where."

'Ohoho, you little bastard.' Azul thought, smirking down at Finn.

"That's true, you didn't. It looks like I have no choice but to steal from you, then."

-End

...........................................

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluff I wrote for Valentine's! It's shorter than the other two bc Azul and Finn already have a long ass fic of their own and not that good bc I wrote it like a few minutes ago djdjf

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @theleechyskrunkly @whspermy-name @cynthinesia @the-banana-0verlord @officialdaydreamer00

[evita-shelby]

The Gala

Rated M for smut no minors 🔞

Gif by @mrs-gray

No more taglists for the Eva fics, i can't remember who was on them

Cw: for racism, a mommy/daddy kink, sexual harassment, alluded sex and a joke at Sigmund Frued's expense

Tonight had been a success.

And even if it hadn’t, Tommy knew it wouldn’t affect things after.

“Alone at last.” Eva sighed as she shut the door behind her and locked it for good measure.

“I thought it would never end.” He said carefully removing his bowtie and tossing it as far away from him as possible.

----

Their first party after their time with Mosley.

It went better than expected, especially now that they no longer pretended to believe in fascism.

But better doesn’t mean the party didn’t have its unique problems.

Thomas knows the necessity of these things and yet, each time he wished he could just hide out in the stables until its over.

But he needs to show his party that he is the only one who can keep Mosley out of the spotlight the pathetic worm loves so much.

There was much staring ---Eva was used to it, counted on it even--- especially with Eva’s white satin dress that was very similar to the red one she wore for her birthday party in 1929.

“I am burning that fucking dress the moment this is over.” He warns lowly and she just gave a coy smile.

It had a low back, a deep enough neckline to show those freckles he likes so much and clung to her torso enough to show off her hourglass figure.

Looked like an angel until you saw that wicked look in her eyes.

You can see all you want, but the moment you even dreamed of touching her, they will find themselves being left to the wild pigs in the woods outside.

“I thought you might like it, amorcito.” She feigns innocence as they walk into the gallery.

----

“I think I deserve a reward for my good behavior, sweetheart.” He says tugging loose the bow holding the dress up.

“Who says I wanted a good boy tonight, maybe I wanted you to kill that fucker who said my melons are in season.” She asks but lets him do as he pleases.

“No more killing, Evie.” He reminds her as he slowly pushed the dress down and savoring the goosebumps he leaves on her tan skin.

“If you say so, Tommy.” She murmurs, turning her head slightly to kiss him.

“Those days are over, they’re over for good.” He says sternly, keeping her close enough to taste the champagne in her breath as he reminds her of their new rule.

----

Eva is no stranger to being gawked at and cause a stir.

It has been what has gotten her where they are now and she won’t change for anything.

“Will you be a good boy for mummy?” she asks knowing sex is the only thing to keep him on good behavior tonight.

Tommy has great self control, but its very fun to watch him fight every urge to throttle the men and women looking down on them when she gets him hot and bothered.

Besides, this is revenge for him denying her all week.

“Always.” He says taking the offered champagne. “Can daddy say the same about mummy?”

Eva can’t answer that as she sees an all too familiar woman arrive.

But the death grip on her crystal flute says it all.

----

“I really thought you were going to kill her.” Tommy likes the games they play and does absolutely nothing as she carefully removes his clothes one button at a time.

“Can you believe the audacity of that pendeja?” Eva asked tossing his shirt on the chair and slowly untucks his undershirt, smirks when the muscles on his stomach tense at her cool touch.

She’s feeling threatened since she saw her.

Its been nearly sixteen years since he’s even seen Grace and somehow, his witch of a wife thinks she is still a threat.

Grace had numbed the pain in his heart, quieted the shovels like a good dose of opium.

He had thought himself in love with her until Eva pulled him from the haze of lies and betrayals.

Eva had resurrected him, like lighting striking Frankenstein’s monster.

Taken his hand and made him walk back into the land of the living as something not quite human.

Made his blood run like fire as he came back to life, made him laugh again, made him love with a passion that threatened to burn everything in its path.

Silly witch thought he’d leave all that for a woman he didn’t even know beyond a few lonely nights.

“I thought Florence said she was dead.” He tries to think when she kisses a trail down his chest as she comes to kneel in front of him.

“I suppose she was wrong. But enough about her, Mummy’s waited all evening for this,” Eva says wanting to pretend she wasn’t jealous or close to breaking this new rule of theirs.

“You used to hate this so much, sweetheart, what changed?” he asks as she unbuckled his belt and whined when Tommy stopped her.

Making her look at him as she answers.

He doesn’t mind giving up control to her most nights, but tonight is not one of those nights.

“Gotta keep daddy on his toes, else he’ll run off with that bland blonde bitch.”

----

Nothing brings out the violence in her blood like Grace.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” Grace says with shining eyes and having replaced her Irish accent with something resembling a posh London one.

Eva wants to pull her hair and drag her out of her damn house.

“I see you are no longer Irish, Mrs. MacMillan.” He said coolly.

“Thomas.” She says as if she were correcting him. “I am Mrs. Thomas now.”

Eva is going to kill her. New rule be damned.

“It was better of Grace MacMillan died, I had made too many enemies and my husband no longer trusted me.”

“I wonder why.” Eva muttered.

“Why are you here?” he asks his former lover who finds all trace of love or even affection for her gone.

What was she expecting, for him to want her after building their relationship up on a foundation of lies?

“I was invited, by my fiancé.” She says gesturing slightly to the handsome yet dull Lord Smallwood of Birmingham.

Eva was supposed to marry him, but then she met Tommy and no man or woman could get her to leave him after.

Not even for a title.

“We wish you joy, and hope you are as happy with him as we have been these fifteen years, Miss. Thomas.” Eva said with a smile as false as her good wishes.

“No more killing, Evie.” Thomas reminded her.

----

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he said spent and pulling her back up, tasting himself in her wicked mouth as she guides him to the nearest soft surface.

“Did you lock the doors?” he asks as they crash into the couch.

“Yeah, even locked the nursery door earlier so they can’t come in through it either.” She answers with an eager nod.

“Mummy deserves a reward for not killing Grace, doesn’t she?” she asks as he kisses and bites his way down her neck, her clavicle and finally her tits.

“Such self-control, Mrs. Shelby, where was it when the newlyweds showed up?”

----

“Ah, my dear Mr. Shelby, we missed you at the wedding!” Mosley shows up acting as if he was wanted here.

“How odd not to have received an invitation, sir. I told my dear Oswald that surely there had to be a mistake.” Diane pretended not to be offended and hoped to have them fawn and all that.

Those days were long gone.

They tried to kill him and their family.

No more killing.

But she wasn’t going to kill them, just humiliate them.

No one liked them here anyways.

“There was no mistake, Lady Diana. I thought we had been perfectly clear last we saw each other.

Shall I remind you with words, or would you prefer our security detail to do it?” Eva asked them making their guests turn to see who was at the end of her ire.

Diana cleared her throat like a lady thinking she misheard, but the sight of Isiah and Finn coming to escort them out made her step back.

“To think we thought you were civilized!” the blonde said outraged.

“We are, which is why I gave you two options, would you rather walk out of here or be carried out?” Eva repeated her question, feeling the thrill of saying those words.

“Come, darling, lets leave these savages and find better company.” Mosley said thinking his insults would hurt as they leave with their dignity in tatters.

Eva is so disappointed this didn’t last longer, she couldn’t wait to tell him he’d die alone and forgotten with his children refusing to continue his legacy.

What a shame.

----

“Can you believe we once fucked her?” she brings up as he rolls off her.

At some point they’d ended up on the luxurious Persian rug, not that they cared.

Even after all this time, Eva loved how ravenous they were for each other.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I want this to last all night, love.” He said with disgust as they catch their breath.

“I’m surprised we lasted so long without sneaking off for a quick fuck. Had I known that, I would’ve worn knickers.” Eva said as if she hadn’t been trying to get a rise out of him all evening.

----

She had grown very impatient by the time the dancing began.

Even flirted with the other young MPs to make him jealous.

But it didn’t work.

“Right about now, you’d be stealing me away for a fuck, daddy.” She whispers seductively in his ear, being especially careful not to nip his earlobe.

He has been denying her for the past ten days, Eva is at her wit’s end.

She hasn’t been this horny since she was pregnant with Florence and it was fucking killing her.

“Should’ve never let me read Freud.” He grumbles as he gently pushes her away.

The witch hadn’t liked him reading up on those particular psychological theories.

Found them rather weird until she discovered how hard it made him to hear her call him daddy while she made a joke about the Oedipus Rex and Electra complexes.

He had started calling her mummy when he was feeling particularly needy and now she’s glad no one has discovered this new game they play.

While she will never care for Freudian shit, Eva loved exploring every facet of their sex life.

Something Tommy was not as keen about as he got closer and closer to middle age.

So she commented on the gray in his hair and called him a silver fox?

That is no reason for him to turn her down this week.

“You’ve been avoiding me all week, Tommy. Is something wrong, mi vida?” she asks concerned.

“Nah, I’m fine, love. Gonna make it up to you tonight, I promise.” He shook his head slightly as he answered.

Tommy changed the topic away from it, “How are your knees, Evie?”

“Nicely healed, I thought you would’ve noticed, but even that you’ve ignored too.” She answered frustrated with him.

“Once this shit is over daddy’s gonna take care of mummy all night long.” He promised as the hand on her lower back went to her hip. “Naughty girl, why do you need all those French knickers when you aren’t even wearing them?”

“Maybe I’m tired of wearing them, Tommy.” She teases hoping to break his resolve.

“Witch.”

-----

After that the party went off without a hitch.

Sure the women had grown tired of their husbands and sons leering at Eva and some had started showing their true colors, and Tommy was sure to pay the boys extra if they did some minor damage to the shiny cars the men were driving, but it was a success over all.

And finally over.

“At this point I will have scars on my fucking knees, Tom.” Eva complains after with a tired laugh.

“But it was worth it, just like last time,” he points out as he holds the cold wet rag to her right knee and she does the same to her left.

“Yeah, it was.” The witch hummed in agreement. “I was thinking of getting the dress in black for Smallwood’s wedding, what do you think?”

“I cannot believe we got invited to their wedding.” He admits hoping she refuses to attend. “We’re not going, I think she’s still in love with me.”

“I know, I was just messing with you, Tom.”

[thexandersonxbunch]

Continued from here x

Lo just chuckled and smiled as he finished tying up Theo's bowtie for him. When the other had taken up his offer for lesson, Lochlan was more than happy to bring up the idea of performing at the talent show. Theo had been an amazing student and Lo was very confident that they would do great. "You'd be surprise how many times I nearly passed out because I was too focused on the sheet music. But, a trick I learned was, before I start playing, I'd look out into the crowd and see one special person. Then, I'd pretend I was only playing for them," he explained, remembering what he was Theo's age.

@theonlytwoalive

[pipwasreal]

Day 22: downtime + clothed sex

Characters: Esther Finch, Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne (mentioned)

Content warnings: captivity, collaring, iron burns, non-consensual sexual touching, manipulation, clothed sex, frottage, forced orgasm

Unexpectedly, kind of a follow up to Day 20...

HEED THE WARNINGS

Esther's been busy. Building and testing her shiny new machine, exploding a butcher shop, snatching those pesky ghosts. Oh, their faces just before they got sucked into her spirit trap... priceless.

It was funny watching them tumble out of it when she got them home too, all glowy and crumpled and strange. Paper puppets with their strings cut.

Limp and weightless, they're a cinch to reposition exactly as she wants.

She lays the uptight one down on the energy extractor, surveys the tableau, then tugs his silly little bowtie off. It disappears when she drops it, which is convenient, so she tugs off his jacket and sweater vest and shirt too. There, much better.

Esther remembers men who wore undershirts like that, and broadfall breeches that were oh so easy for a dick to slip out of... right into some younger, prettier girl. The kid is easier to hate this way.

She straps him down and locks him in, supressing the urge to mess up his neat coiffure. There'll be plenty of time for that later, if the mood takes her.

Next, she drops the smiley one on the kitchen floor and locks the collar around his throat. He'll be close enough to his little friend that he'll be able to hear everything, but not close enough to do anything.

She takes his jacket off, considers stripping him further as payback for his Peeping Tom routine the other night... but this is nice. He's kinda pretty, for a dead boy. Not as useful as the other one, obviously, but pretty. And he owes her.

She can tell he's about to stir. On a whim, she squats down over him. Let him have an eyeful before she leaves him alone for a while...

It's quite a while before Esther returns her attention to Charles. She's honestly delighted at how well the tortured one is bearing the machine. Edward, or whatever his name is, is pretty impressive, with his cute little stoic act... she wonders how long it'll last.

As delicious as the power squeezed out of him is, it's a lot of work. She deserves a break, she decides, and a treat. Un petit plaisir, as the French say.

Ignoring Charles' desperate pleas and threats, which start up as soon as she enters the kitchen, Esther simply walks right up and sits on his lap, straddling those long legs of his. It's nice to take a load off.

He looks stunned for a second, then angrier than ever, jaw clenched tight. At least it's shut him up.

His poor iron-burnt fingertips twitch at his sides like he wants to push her away, but he doesn't move. Maybe he's afraid of jostling the collar again, or of what she might do if he really pisses her off.

Esther smiles luxuriously. She doesn't care much for boys, but there's a certain appeal when they look at her all scared and horny despite themselves, trying to cover it up with anger and bravado.

She spreads her knees a little wider, sees his eyes flick down to the slit in her skirt, the fishnets underneath. She grinds down on him, just a quick dip and circle of her hips, then another, harder.

He gasps, looking up at her all wide-eyed and confused, which is just precious.

"Oh come on," she says. "You've been inside me before, haven't you? Without my permission, I might add. Kinda fuckin' rude, don't you think?"

She leans in and he flinches back, then hisses as the collar digs in. She puts her lips to his ear.

"And did you think I wouldn't recognise you from my mirror the other night?" She says, dark and low. "Don't pretend you don't want this."

She rocks her hips back and forth a bit until.. oop, there it is. His trapped dick hard against her thigh.

When she leans back, pressed against him but no longer moving her hips, he ruts, once, against her. Then he bites his lip, balls his hands into fists, and forces himself still.

Esther sighs deeply.

"Or would you prefer I went back to playing with your little friend?"

Oh, he is devastated. So many emotions at war on that pretty face. But not for long.

"Fuck me," he blurts out. "Please." And he sounds so miserable, so defeated, that she almost does.

"Oh honey, no. We're just taking the edge off. Maybe later though."

She goes back to grinding on him, punishingly hard. Her panties are soaked but there's friction from the fishnets, and she feels him tremble under her.

She presses his face to her chest and, despite the sizzle of iron against his throat, he comes with a choked sob. And that has her coming too, harder than she has in ages.

"Good boy," she pants.

[willowpenguinwritting]

Crepes? ------A quickly written good omens oneshot. The idea came to me whilst messaging an incredible friend of mine and we were discussing the promo picture released today.

Aziraphale as his new normal, was sitting in an armchair drinking a cup of tea with a book in his hands. It was a book he had read only once before and he had decided he simply must read it again as it was only fair to the book. Near him loitered his "assistant" If Aziraphale was been perfectly honest he was starting to get a bit bothered with all Gabriel's comments about the dust or the layout or something else. There were times when he simply pretended that it didn't bother him, there were times when he ignored it, and there were times when he wanted to shove him into a cupboard and lock him in for an hour but that was too cruel and he couldn't do that.

If he was to be truly honest with himself it was nice to have company, it wasn't Crowley's company but it kept him socialised and at least partly content he did miss the speeding Bentley driver but he wouldn't admit it out loud. Well, not now he wouldn't maybe in the future but not now when he had a kind of feeling that something important or special was to happen.

In the bookshop, music did tend to play but never much more than soft classical music. Until now, the music switched tone in an instant, and before it could be processed further Aziraphale's ears twitched at the ting of the bell as the door opened. In walked none other than Crowley. The very same Crowley who had been missing. By the time the demon of Crowley was recognised the music of Queen was also recognised.

"Crowley?" choked out Aziraphale in a partial shock to see him but a sense of he didn't want to appear too keen.

Crowley stepped forward adjusting his glasses slightly and a suspiciously wide smile across his face, " 'Tis me indeed, good to see you Azi-". Crowley froze mid-sentence. His eyes scanned the room and landed on Gabriel as if he was the prey of the snake inside him.

Crowley swallowed and spoke with a distinct scowl, "Aziraphale, what is he doing here?"

"He must be here, he could be in danger." The bowtie-wearing man explained tucking his bookmark into his book and standing in front of Gabriel.

Crowley stepped forward another few paces, he lightly placed his hand on Aziraphale's wrist and tugged a book down and the shelf swung abruptly to reveal a room.

"How the heaven did you know about that?" Aziraphale asked with a squeak as no one was supposed to know about this area.

Crowley laughed Aziraphale couldn't decide if this laugh made him more comfortable or more uncomfortable. "I guess one might call it luck."

Aziraphale smiled, it was a half-forced smile but still a smile, "Oh Aziraphale don't bother forcing smiles with me, Now will you please tell me what he is doing here?"

"I am protecting him until I can find out," Aziraphale said with the hope that some sort of confidence shined through his tone.

Crowley nodded, "Right and do you think we could leave him here for say two hours by himself?"

The angel's face had confusion painted across it, "I don't know why?"

"Because I wanted to take you out for crepes I know how much you love them." Crowley sighed, He thought he could sense a no slipping from the lips of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smiled, "Oooo that is tempting and does sound delicious but only if there is somewhere we could go where we know where he is at all time."

"Sounds like a perfect plan." The angel grinned happy that Crowley remembered about his crepe loving and was willing to adapt for his visitor.

A visitor that might just be keeping an eye on him but was still to be treated with respect like any other guest.

Crowley's cheeks flushed a pink, well maybe they didn't Azirapahale was sure he imagined it "I will meet you both in the Bentley soon."

This was all very suspicious and exciting to Aziraphale, just how he had missed it.

Once they were all seated inside the car, Aziraphale took a deep breath preparing for the speed that was going to start any moment then. Crowley quickly glanced over to him and winked a sly wink. As usual, Queen was screaming through the speakers and the bolting down the road began.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to go ever slightly slower?" Aziraphale asked loudly over the music.

Crowley chuckled, "Me? Slower? Never."

"I annoyingly predicted that would be your answer." He said with an eye roll.

He uttered, "This demon is a demon who likes queen and speed."

Aziraphale turned to the back to see his guest's face stuck in a position of sheer panic.

When they arrived, or more when Crowley stopped the car Aziraphale was confused to discover they were at Crowley's flat.

"Right, your guest is going in my plant room to be supervised whilst we eat," Crowley informed.

Aziraphale nodded with a response of, "Ooohhh are we getting takeaway that's very fancy?"

Crowley just shook his head. Once inside the building and Gabriel their honoured guest had been shoved into the plant room Crowley lead the angel to his kitchen.

"Ooooohhh this is all very black, I think it's modern and in trend for the mortals," Azirpahale said with a laugh.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, " Do not compare me to a mortal."

"Sorry, did you purchase the crepes from a shop? That's very clever of you." The angel smiled.

The demon however shook his head again, "Stand there, look pretty and watch." he ordered.

Aziraphale froze as Crowley began spinning hectically around him collecting the most unusual of objects. Flour, Eggs, Milk and many more. What had not occurred to Aziraphale was that these were in fact the ingredients of how crepes were made.

Crowley started adding a little bit of everything into a bowl before whisking them together with a quick wave of his finger.

When the demon poured the mixture into a pan it occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley was, in fact, making him them from scratch. The angel grinned with honour before asking "Are you seriously making me crepes?"

"No, I am building you a boat. Of course, I am making you crepes." He said with a dumbfounded look on his face that was clearly intentional.

"How did you work out how?" The inquisitive angel inquired.

Crowley laughed "I was trying to make a potion but it made them instead, no silly I learnt how because I wanted to make you some."

The angel smiled, "Really?"

"Well I hope they live up to your standards." Crowley smiled.

-------------

Well, I am stopping here, I enjoyed writing it so far but I must stop as my laptop is running out of charge. Please let me know your thoughts and if I should continue it or not!!

[indecisive-dizzy]

Do you have any more Eddie dear headcanons you wanna share?

Im sorry for being annoying about him, I don’t get to talk about welcome home a lot so when I do I get really excited :>

No you're so good! I will always take the opportunity to talk about my favorite goober :D

First, Eddie sews! Can't remember how canon this is, I could be tricking myself haha. But I think Eddie has so many little hobbies and sewing is one of them!

He makes all sorts of things: New ties, shirts, dresses, etc! For himself and for his friends!

He and Poppy make sweaters and scarves for everyone together during winter :)

I also like to think he's made Frank a bowtie and/or vest as a gift,, sigh what a loving husband

Speaking of Frank, Eddie uses so many pet names for his husband. Darling, love, sweetie/sweetheart, sugar, puddin', bug, honey/hun, pumpkin. just so many southern petnames

Another hobby of his is obviously crafts, but he really likes origami! It's fun/relaxing and keeps his hands busy when things are slow. Also he can make gifts! A win win!

cough is also helps with his fine motor skills, hand eye coordination struggle is real cough

This man is so autistic adhd to me. His forgetfulness and clumsiness is all part of it. As someone with audhd I can't walk anywhere without getting a bruise from running into things lol. So I'm projecting a bit haha

Mail is his hyperfixation. Eddie can tell you everything and anything about mail/postal history, including stamps. Point to a stamp in his collection he can tell you the year it was made, where, and who. Plus anything else he may know about it.

He loves thriller novels and dramas. And sappy romance novels. He's probably read Frankenstein and Dracula a bunch of times. And he would absolutely read Twilight. Dunno if he'd like it, but he would read it lol

my gen z youth is showing,, idk when vhs was the most common/around but Eddie would have a vhs collection. He'd have the og Frankenstein on vhs and would treasure it. Again, my time is off so just pretend

Also if it's not obvious, Frankenstein is his favorite classic monster story. He feels for the Monster bc Eddie thinks he's so misunderstood. Honestly he probably relates a bit. Also makes a banger costume lol

Eddie would do drag more if he had the time, I think. (Also if the times were more accepting cough-) He likes to feel pretty!

cough I have so many he/she Eddie thoughts but that's another post for another day

Very uncomfortable around bugs/insects but has come to terms with butterflies after spending so much time with Frank.

Similar note, Eddie would never hurt a bug (on purpose) he just calls Frank to safely relocate it. He may not like them, but he meant it when he said he'd never hurt a fly!

Oh I could keep going but I fear I'll dive into au territory lol. I have a habit of updating technology/times/etc with fandoms that take place before the 2000s yikes

[dailylesliec]

[TRANSLATION] Art and Piece Issue 16 - Alan Chan about Leslie Cheung

“He climbed out of the pool and asked me, 'Don't you just think my shorts look so gorgeous and sexy today?'”

A BEAUTIFUL TUNE IN THE MIDST OF EMPTINESS

Alan Chan - Renowned Hong Kong designer

I am Alan Chan. I am a designer, and designed multiple album covers for Leslie Cheung.

In the 80s and 90s, I designed album covers for several big names and superstars. Some people even called me Leslie's "go-to designer" because of that, and I also witnessed a lot of high points in Leslie's music career. As I work in graphic design as well as advertising, I don't use a very personal angle in creating an album cover. Rather, I use the artist as a starting point, to accentuate the public image the artist had at that point in time.

The first time I helped Leslie create an album cover was in 1984. Capital Artists was beginning to realise that they needed to "package" or "dress up" their artists and came to me for help. And like that, I worked with Leslie for the first time on his album Craziness. Leslie was a gentleman - once he even invited me to have dinner at his then-home in Taikoo Shing after the album was done. To be honest, Leslie and I weren't very close, but we were both very emotional people. We didn't need to say much to understand each other. It was quite fun working on Craziness though. At the time Capital Artists was still quite new and our budget was quite small. The waistcoat, shirt and bowtie that Leslie wore during the photoshoot were actually mine, I just lent them to him. Fortunately, they fit.

I still remember when Florence Chan, Alex Chan and I waited outside the recording studio from noon until late night. When we heard the finished product of Sleepless Night, I really couldn't help but let out a "WOW" in my heart. We knew that this song would make him a superstar. Later when we went to Japan for the Summer Romance photoshoot, I had my eye on a pair of shoes while shopping there. When I went to pay, I found out that gor-gor had already kindly bought them for me. It's an unforgettable memory of mine. Those pair of shoes are almost completely worn out but I still keep them.

I don't really know a lot of artists, but Leslie is definitely the most artistic one. You can see this even in the details of his everyday life. When he moved from Repulse Bay to Kadoorie Hill, he did all of the interior design himself. The furnishing was very tasteful - he just knew how to pick and arrange elegant furniture. He was also a really easy person to communicate with about creating. We both trusted each other a lot in the design process. I knew very well that at some point, o matter if it's singing, acting, or any other sort of artistic approach, an artist should be able to think for themselves and not just follow the crowd.

Just like for the later Leslie '89, Leslie himself took the album cover photo, while I added some finishing touches and colour with aerosol paint. Or take For Your Heart Only. He knew what he wanted to do from the start and even prepared his own outfit. When he arrived, he put on the ring his lover gave him for the photoshoot, so in the end we used a more soft way to handle the cover in order to show Leslie's pure, loving side. Rather than expressing it to the fans, I feel like the concept of the album was for Leslie's own heart. Virgin Snow's aesthetic and typography doesn't look outdated even today. Final Encounter is also really worth remembering - I constructed a ten-or-so feet tall podium and used a vertical ladder to climb up there and take photos, it actually wasn't very stable or safe.

Mirages exist in all of entertainment business. All performances will have parts where we are "pretending" and this is called showmanship. The personality of an artist shows through your showmanship. I felt that the natural, creative energy that Leslie had was unique. No other artist had it. Leslie's beauty came with a sort of feminine sexiness, it was soft-spoken, and he wasn't afraid to show off his attractiveness. I remember during the photoshoot for the Leslie album cover, he climbed out of the pool and asked me, "Don't you just think my shorts look so gorgeous and sexy today?"

Not everyone can be him.

Translated by me (aka @dailylesliec on Twitter/Tumblr), do not repost without credit. If you like this translation, consider following me or buying me a Ko-fi! For the formatted PDF version of the article, click here.

[vsakaa-fanfiction-drawings-hcs]

Purple One-Shot: Angst.

Angel, worried about his deal with Val, goes to the one person who he believes can help.

TW: Swearing.

Angel swallowed, before knocking on Alastor's door, brushing himself down. "Uh... Radio Daddy? You in there, I need ya help with something". There was a bout of silence before the door creaked open.

"Why hello, my feminine fellow, to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Alastor, stepping aside so Angel could enter.

"I need ya help" reiterated the other, looking around before deciding to sit on the bed. "It's super fucking important and I dunno who else to talk to".

"Ha hah, excellent, do tell" remarked Alastor, tilting his smiling head at Angel. "Come now, don't be shy, tell me all".

"How do I get out of my deal?".

Alastor paused, blinking, before sighing- that creepy smile still plastered on his face. "Why are you asking me, my dear boy?".

Sigh. "Well, I thought if anyone's got the goods- it's gotta be Radio Daddy. You're an Overlord and all that shit, and you have the know-how and just- please, there's gotta be a way out...".

Alastor glitched, twiddling his cane. "Why do you want out?".

Angel stared at Alastor, before running a hand through his hair, sighing. "I've been sober now for about... fuck, time just melds together in this Hellhole- pun intended. And I- my shoots are getting... worse. More and more... just- I don't wanna remember them, you know?" remarked Angel, laying on his side and tracing his finger along the sheets. "But- I also don't wanna relapse... I've learnt how to- pretend, cause Val keeps giving me shit, but it's only a matter of time before I give in- I don't wanna! But I also- Radio Daddy... I'm being pushed to my fucking limit".

Alastor nodded before fiddling with his bowtie. "If you relay what I'm about to say, I shall tear your limbs off- one by one- in the most painful way possible" he informed, turning his head 90°.

"Uh...".

"I'm proud of you, dear comrade," he said, nodding at the spider. "Sobriety is a celebration indeed. However, the constraints of your reckless actions... are harder to fight. But- check the Fine Print". Nod.

"Huh?".

"Of your contract of course".

"... fuck".

"Quite".

"Fuck! There's only one copy, and it's in Val's office!"

"Ah, I see. Well then, fuck indeed".

"No... shit. Okay, just check the fine print... I can do that, somehow" mused Angel, fiddling and wringing his hands. "Piece of piss, maybe, not likely- shit. It's on the wall... no, no, I've got this".

Alastor smiled, turning his head again. "Wonderful. Now, kindly, leave. I have things to attend to".

Angel smirked, sliding off the bed. "So assertive, Radio Daddy," he purred, getting a blink from the other. "I was leaving anyway, got a contract to read" he stated, heading for the door.

Alastor watched him leave before- punching the wall. "Fine print, ha hah. Fine. Print. If only I had such a tool, freedom could be within my grasp!".