#young cotta au

[daughterofhecata]

ohhhhh 3 and/or 16 with Skinny/(young) Cotta pretty pretty pretty please? 🥰

[morning after prompts]

of course 😘 keine Ahnung, wie das in die continuity passen könnte, aber ich hoffe, es gefällt dir trotzdem <3

3. "Relax. I didn't touch you. You were drunk and I, contrary to what you may think, have self-control." + Skinny/young!Cotta

Skinny saß auf der einzigen freien Stelle auf der Arbeitsfläche, den Kaffeebecher in den Händen, und beobachtete den Cop, der in seinem Bett lag und ganz leise, kaum wahrnehmbar, schnarchte.

Unter normalen Umständen würde er niemals freiwillig einen Bullen in seine Wohnung lassen, aber das hier war etwas anderes. Denn auch wenn er es nur ungern zugab, Cotta war eben nicht nur irgendein Polizist.

Zwischen ihnen war etwas, und vermutlich nichts bewies das so sehr, wie die Tatsache, dass Cotta in der Nacht überhaupt bei ihm aufgetaucht war.

Vollkommen gegen Skinnys Willen zupfte ein Lächeln an seinen Mundwinkeln – Cotta sah schon irgendwie niedlich aus, wie er da zusammengerollt lag, Skinny nur die dunklen Haare sehen konnte und eine nackte Schulter, wo die Bettdecke ein wenig heruntergerutscht war.

Er überlegte gerade, auf welche Weise er seinen Gast vielleicht aufwecken könnte – die beste Variante wäre vielleicht, ihm den Kaffee vor die Nase zu halten, obwohl Skinny viel lieber seine Schulter berührt hätte oder einfach zu ihm unter die Decke geglitten wäre – als der sich von ganz allein regte.

Ein leidendes Stöhnen, dann streckte Cotta sich, rollte auf den Rücken, wobei er die Bettdecke etwas weiter herunter zog, Skinny einen erstklassigen Blick auf seine Brust gewährte. Er blinzelte zur Zimmerdecke, die Verwirrung klar auf seinem Gesicht, dann hob er den Kopf, bemerkte Skinny.

„Guten Morgen!“, grüßte er fröhlich, nur um zu sehen, wie Cotta die Augen schloss, sie sich rieb, und sie dann wieder öffnete, als würde er hoffen, er hätte sich Skinny nur eingebildet.

Pech gehabt.

Grinsend stellte Skinny den Becher zur Seite und hüpfte von der Anrichte. „Endlich ausgeschlafen?“, wollte er wissen.

„Wie bin ich-“, setzte Cotta an, sprach dann jedoch nicht weiter, als hätte er entschieden, dass er die Antwort vielleicht doch lieber nicht hören wollte.

Das hinderte Skinny selbstverständlich nicht daran, sie ihm trotzdem zu geben. „Du bist mitten in der Nacht betrunken hier aufgetaucht“, erklärte er ungerührt, „Ich glaube, du wolltest mit mir über irgendwas reden, aber als du erstmal drin warst, schien es dir wichtiger, mir an die Wäsche zu gehen.“

Schreck breitete sich über Cottas Züge aus, schlagartig setzte er sich auf, was seine Kopfschmerzen ihn im gleichen Augenblick bereuen ließen, wenn Skinny das richtig interpretierte.

„Haben wir-“, brachte Cotta heraus. Diesmal führte er den Satz offenbar nicht zuende, weil er es lieber nicht laut aussprechen wollte.

Skinny hatte da weniger Hemmungen. „Gevögelt?“, ergänzte er und erntete ein schocksteifes Nicken.

„Entspann dich“, wiegelte er ab, obwohl ihn Cottas Entsetzen über die Vorstellung schon irgendwie amüsierte. „Ich hab dich nicht angefasst. Du warst besoffen und auch wenn du mir das vermutlich nicht glaubst, ich hab durchaus sowas wie Selbstbeherrschung.“

Es gab einfach Dinge, die er nicht tat, ergänzte er in Gedanken. Dazu gehörte, ein Nein zu ignorieren oder mit jemandem zu schlafen, der oder die unübersehbar nicht mehr ganz Herr über seine Entscheidungen war.

Die Erleichterung, die von Cotta ausging, war fast physisch sichtbar.

Skinny ging zum Bett hinüber, sah auf ihn herab und grinste. „Aber jetzt bist du ja wieder nüchtern, und du bist immer noch in meinem Bett...“, stellte er vielsagend fest.

Die widerstreitenden Gefühle auf Cottas Gesicht, während er verzweifelt versuchte, sich an seiner Vernunft festzuhalten, waren vielleicht noch besser als die Hemmungslosigkeit, mit der er in der Nacht versucht hatte, Skinny zu sich auf die Matratze zu ziehen.

[dr-chosenberg]

Moral Orel Bloberta-Centric AU

@neverfilth and I have come up with an alternate universe that has blossomed in to a layered world in its own right, at least we feel that way! (She of course drew the images below)

We’re calling it the Spinster AU as it involves a Bloberta who never got to marry, but through her hobby of sewing has weaved a rich tapestry of life for herself and the young girls of Moralton. The story highly focuses on the female experience of Moralton in Bloberta’s youth, a time where things were even more regressive than they are when the show takes place.

When her father passes he leaves her the house which makes her the first woman in Moralton to own a business and her own home. Her brother, Lunchbox, has become the Mayor of Moralton. Clay is not in the picture as he lives happily in Sinville with Danielle, but his twin sister Claurine is the First Lady of Moralton. Modella follows in her mother’s footsteps and becomes a domineering matriarch with a hint of humanity that was seemingly lost in Sherry.

As such, Bloberta has a colorful cast of suitors (including the charming Dr Chosenberg and the once bitten twice shy Roger Papermouth). Between the guys and her experimental situation with good friend Dolores Stoopdown, she has her hands full.

But she is focused on her career and her role as a den mother of sorts to the little girls of Moralton.

Most important of all is a young Stephanie Foamwire who acts as the Orel for this timeline. Already questioning her faith at a young age she seeks comfort in the home of a woman who she senses is different just like her. Bloberta also mentors a young Dolly Forghetty, Kim Harebrain, and Terra-Cotta Potterswheel. Karl Latchkey hangs around them too as he has a budding crush on Kim, but he looks down the things the girls are learning.

Bloberta doesn’t just inspire the little girls but the big ones too. Her friends Dolores and Millie are right by her side, on the tails of their own divorces they’re encouraged by everything their best friend has accomplished.

Bloberta doesn’t just inspire the little girls but the big ones too. Her friends Dolores and Millie are right by her side, on the tails of their own divorces they’re encouraged by everything their best friend has accomplished.

Thank you to our wonderful and ever inspiring artist friends @sinvilles and @lthawkeyess for assisting us!

[mojo-bro-tho]

Blood Sugar… Ch. 1

~The Pretty Woman style AU for Emmrook is here! But at what cost? The smutty fun I intended this to be turned into smut with a plot that I am far too allured by to ignore. This is a modern AU, so no magic but all of the races still exist and the places (generally) because I said so, everything else will be just for flavor text. I promise I’ll make a masterlist soon because this is gonna get ridiculous pretty fast, I can just tell. For full content warnings that stay up to date for the fic at large and better descriptions, please check the AO3 tag as I do not wish to be obliterated off the timeline.~

Word count: 6.4k

Content warnings for chapter: Suggestive acts and language, no beta read because who tf would I show this to?, if you’ve seen Pretty Woman then you know at least a little of what to expect here

AO3 link

Checking In

A knock at the door heralded the exact second that Emmrich Volkarin realized he was irrevocably fucked. This was a terrible idea. How did he let Johanna goad him into this? His heart hammered in his chest, spilling out the ribcage. He couldn’t go through with this. This was entirely ridiculous at best and incredibly cruel at worst. He would walk to the door, address the surely lovely woman that waited outside and tell her that he had no need for her services. Yes, that would be for the best.

Surely everything about this was foolish. Called the number Strife gave him yesterday, the shockingly discreetly toned woman on the other end handled his floundering with ease and was able to set up a meeting that same day. It all happened so quickly that he hadn’t even considered that perhaps he was over-dressed for this sort of- Well, it wasn’t as though he would be. For Maker’s sake, he was still dressed as if he was in the classroom. He couldn’t figure out which part was worse, the fact that for a solid two days this nonsensical plot actually made sense to him or the fact that he was worried about how whoever awaited for him on the other side of the wall would perceive the way he was dressed, of all things. This poor woman was simply here to do her job, one he imagines can be quite stressful, she didn’t deserve any of this outrageous machinations.

Emmrich crossed the hotel room’s living space in a few anxious strides and soon found himself before the all white threshold of certain self destruction. Far too sterile and mocking in its mimicry of an apartment he lived in during his college years. The lock was undone with the speed at which one might rip a bandage. His hand reached for the handle, holding it steady and taking a massive breath through the nose before swiftly tugging the door open.

Behind it stood a young woman. Terra-cotta skin that glowed an illustrious shade of pink on her bare shoulders, with flecks of glitter scattered across what could be seen of her arms and collarbones. A strong jawline, shapely nose that dipped low into a pleasant curve, high cheekbones. Lavender irises with unripened strawberries encroaching on the pupils framed by fluttering lashes and pointed liner. Her hair was shorter, cut just below the jaw in a rich black shade that admittedly appeared to be temptingly satiny. Between her full lips sat a thin, white stick that she pulled away with a dramatic pop to reveal a well nursed electric blue candy.

The woman’s inquisitive gaze searched him as well. The coat she wore gathered at her elbows shifted as her other arm dropped from its spot around her ribs. A… tight black dress was revealed to him in the process. It was knee length, nothing particularly revealing in terms of skin aside from the aforementioned shoulders and enough of a glimpse onto her chest that the smallest spill of cleavage made his eyes snap back up to her face. A cheeky smile danced across one side of her mouth.

“My, my. I wasn’t expecting someone like you.” She stated simply, bring the sweet dangling hand to his vest before allowing herself inside.

It was as if his body turned to jello, his bones reducing to collagen in the wake of her determined strut past his temporary doorway. A heeled shoe dexterously knocked the door back closed. Emmrich heard it lock as her free hand disappeared behind her long leather coat. She leaned in close, and Emmrich was caught on the scent of artificial fruit, sugar, and something that reminded him of being in a forest. Her glossy lips inched towards the candy that she pointed towards her teeth, tongue peaking out in a matching shade of blue and curling over what was left of the sphere.

“P-pardon me, but I fear there has been… some sort of mistake.” He stuttered, breath hitching as she licked again. A half giggle got caught on the sticky surface of the sweet.

“Oh? So, you aren’t a ‘Professor E.V.’ with an executive suite, rented out by my employer, in The Lighthouse? Because, if that’s true, Mister… I’m afraid the front desk gave you the wrong key.” Her voice came out in a purr.

Maker, she was better at this than he figured she would be. She examined him closely, making Emmrich feel more like prey than person. The candy stick was caught between her teeth for a moment while her fingers grazed up his chest, plucking at the chain of his pocket watch.

“Well, that is me, yes. But you see-”

“In that case, Professor, you should be more careful about the titles you share to services like ours.” The enunciations came out fuzzy until the sucker pulled away from her lips again and hovered dangerously close to his own. Her fingers went up to glide across the line of his jaw. “I’m sure you worked very hard for a position like that. But you have to be cautious. You’re lucky we’re so nice, with that much info we might be able to find your… personal affairs.”

“Personal affairs?” He asked. Her eyes flicked down to both his wrists.

“A lot of jewelry you got, a few rings too. Just saying.” When she looked back up at his face, she held a deceptively innocent expression.

Oh?

Oh.

“I’m not married!” He clarified, though he wasn’t sure why he felt such an intense need to. Her brow furrowed in a playful sort of empathy he was unfamiliar with.

“Aw. That’s a shame.” Was she… disappointed he wasn’t married? Emmrich felt very confused. “Well, more of you for me then. I like the nervous ones. Usually more interesting.” She teased.

“My dear, I’m afraid you are mistaken. I’m not nervous.” Emmrich attempted to correct, as well as attempted to move her hand away but she hooked him by the collar.

“You seem at least a little nervous, sir. More than a little. A pretty girl shows up your door that you paid good money for and you try to send her away? I’m almost hurt.” She pouted.

His hands surged up, one catching on the corner that would lead them fully into the sitting area and the other going flat against the wall. She went still in response, though their eye contact never broke. In the brief moment of silence that followed his own surprise, he couldn’t help but be somewhat mesmerized. Emmrich wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to look like. He was no stranger to beautiful women, nor men or anyone else that caught his fancy, but she was something else. Her visage made her appear more like a statue at times. A soft, tantalizingly warm statue. And he had to be honest with himself, the forwardness that came with her profession did strike something very unexpected in him. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

“Forgive me, I did not intend to cause offense, Miss…?” Another short laugh softened into his shirt.

“You can call me Rook.” She grinned.

“Rook?” He asked, she hummed affirmatively. “Like the chess piece?”

“Something like that.”

Suddenly, she slinked past him, barely needing to lower her head to duck under his arm. Rook strolled deeper into the living space, not bothering to really take in the scenery. Not like she needed to, it wasn’t her first time being in one of the executive suites. She did notice however that the room barely looked touched. Aside from a chocolate brown blazer neatly laying over the back of the center sofa.

“So, Professor.” She rolled. “I was told you’re looking for someone versatile, a good listener, preferably ‘intelligent’, and can handle some rather unconventional requests. Now, that either means you have a very specific fetish you’d like to explore or you’re actually looking for a therapist.”

The jacket fell away from her shoulders, landing in a heap on the floor that she chose to step around rather than pick up. Emmrich had to fight the urge to follow behind her and hang it in the closet. But her statement began to catch up with him at lightning speed. The perfect opportunity presented itself on a silver platter, punctuated by another pop from her sucker.

“Miss Rook, I sincerely apologize for making you travel all the way out here. But I fear your… services are no longer required.” He explained. That caused her to raise an eyebrow. The sweet rolled to the left side of her mouth, tongue gliding past teeth, as she studied his features carefully.

“You know there are no refunds, right? You paid for two hours up front, so you should probably get two hours.” Rook was used to clients being a bit standoffish if she was their first taste of luxury. But this wasn’t quite that, it struck her as odd. Emmrich clapped his hands together with a relieved smile.

“Oh, that isn’t a problem at all. After all, I did make you come all the way here. That’s work alone!” He said exaggeratedly. Her silver hooped earrings tilted as she turned one pointed ear to the ground.

“You realize you paid more than 2,000 Kings, yeah? You weren’t exactly specific with what kind of service you wanted so you were charged for the standard full package. Plus the consultation fee because of the fact that you were pretty vague.” Rook pondered for a moment before continuing. “Am I not your type, Professor? Do you prefer blondes or something?” She asked.

“Trust me, Miss Rook, that has nothing to do with it.” Emmrich couldn’t help himself from half sputtering a laugh. Something mischievous glinted in the woman’s eye.

“So I am your type. Were you hoping I was a little older?” Rook forced a fake gasp of disgust. “Or even younger? You dastardly fiend.”

The hand that now held the candy raised with a dramatic flourish, lowering herself onto a nearby chair in a mock faint. The joke took him aback. Her age hadn’t even crossed his mind until she pointed it out, he had been too preoccupied. Firstly with how desperately he wanted to be rid of this hair-brained scheme all together and secondly with her striking features. Now that he was thinking about it though, she was noticeably much younger than him. She couldn’t be any older than twenty-eight and that guess was him being generous. Then again, he supposed the original plot did require someone around that age, he just hadn’t considered how this might seem from her perspective.

Her nylon covered legs crossed, raising the dress slightly higher up her thighs. Even while in a lounging position, her body took on the shape of an artist’s muse. Rook looked back up at him through the feathering of her lashes with a playful smirk on her face.

“Come now, we’re both adults. And I’m not exactly shy unless you want me to be. So, go ahead and tell me what your intended plans were for my ‘no longer required’ services.” Her insistence set him on edge.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked earnestly.

“Curiosity.” She replied plainly.

“The real reason.” Emmrich took a few small steps closer. Rook's lifted ankle traced the shape of a circle, he thought she looked suspiciously amused.

“I am curious! But if you must know, I also don’t like people leaving empty-handed. I’m a real bleeding heart like that.”

The remainder of the sweet crunched sharply between her teeth, and she wasted no time in flicking the empty stick into a nearby waste bin. Emmrich found it strangely impressive that she seemed to know exactly where to aim while barely having to look in the target's direction. Rook leaned her head against the arm that rested on the side of the chair.

“Your generosity is misplaced, Miss Rook. I assure you, I am perfectly content with the terms I agreed to as well as stopping this from going any further.” Emmrich insisted, drawing both hands behind his back much like he would during lectures.

Rook took a moment to put together everything she had gleaned from talking to him so far. He was well decorated, dressed well, and didn’t make a fuss over not getting his money back. He was attracted to her, or at least she assumed he was at least a little, as he seemed insistent on not looking too far below her face. Overly polite. Then got defensive when she doubled down. Seemed somewhat naive to how this all worked while also not getting too shaken up by her presence. Experienced in private matters.

Whatever he was wanting, it wasn’t something usual. The request itself was what made him more nervous than her. Rook also recalled Teia’s warning that he supposedly seemed unsure of what he was looking for, at least according to our dear receptionist. Something new that he wasn't sure how to work through. Needing someone with good sense, possibly open minded. Every layer she peeled away at made her all the more intrigued.

Time to put on the charm. Rook gingerly tilted her head, drawing her bottom lip in while looking towards the floor. She fiddled with the edge of her acrylic nails and drew her eyebrows together as if in contemplation. Slow the breathing but make it heavier. The look was easy, sweet and slightly mopey. Some clients liked the needy types. Shoulders slope. Folding moderately on herself.

Of course, Emmrich fell for it. Saw the sad look on her face over his rejection of her request and immediately felt guilty. Rook didn’t need to look up to see it, it showed in the shifting of his feet. Unsure if they should step forward or not. It was almost too easy.

“I’m… sorry.” Look up. Puppy eyes. “It’s just, well, if I don’t stay for the two hours then my boss will wonder why.” Bend over, grab the coat off the floor. Fold it in the lap. “But I get it. I’ll try to think of something-”

“Wait just a moment.” He interrupted. Bingo.

Rook would feel bad about manipulating him, but her own intrigue outweighs that in that moment. Emmrich half paced in a tight line. The multiple ways he could go about explaining this bounced around his mind, none of them feeling quite right.

“It’s just a rather unorthodox request.” He admitted first. There we go, just a little more.

“Trust me, Professor. I’m no stranger to ‘unorthodox’. No judgment here.” She reassured. His mouth formed into a tight lipped smile.

“I would like to teach you about Archeology. Biological Anthropology as well.” That did catch her off guard.

“You want to teach me?” She asked.

“Yes!”

“You’re a professor, that’s your job. And you want to pay me so you can teach more?” Rook’s eyes narrowed. “Do you not get your fix in at work?” She chuckled, Emmrich sighed in response.

“As I said, it’s unorthodox. You see, I found myself in a rather specific predicament. More accurately, my department has found itself in deep water and we require a more… charismatic hand to guide it back to safe shores.”

The professor nearly winced when he saw the shift in Rook’s expression. He knew this plan was utter rubbish. He should have brushed off Johanna’s prodding. He should have laughed off Strife’s suggestion of a solution to the problem and Johanna’s blustering. If he had done the more sensible thing of simply finding another student, a real student, then he wouldn’t be in such a terribly awkward situation.

Expect he had tried that. He had had meetings with every single one of his students in both his advanced and standard classes. None of which were eager to replace Miss Ingellvar. In fact, none of them seemed even remotely interested in the opportunity at all. That had been his entire life these past two months. It was mind-boggling to him that so many promising minds were adamant on tossing aside something that could very well jump start their careers. He even reached out to graduated students who met the criteria and each that had replied claimed to be invested in other projects.

“And naturally there is no one more charismatic than a prostitute.” Rook jabbed, though Emmrich wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Miss Rook, I would like to make it very clear that I have nothing but respect for your profession-”

“Well that’s a relief, then. Otherwise you would have broken my little heart.” She pouted humorously.

“However.” Emmrich continued. “It is imperative that I showcase someone truly exceptional to my superiors. Someone who not only has the potential to be an expert but can act like an expert. Someone who can keep up with all of the, frankly, pompous individuals who play an unfortunately vital role in the current existence of my department.” Rook’s gaze softened slightly, growing both inquisitive and surprisingly understanding.

“Sounds like you need a miracle worker. Or a fantasy. I guess that explains why you went looking for us.” She mused. His reasoning wasn’t entirely unreasonable in that case.

After all, the tagline wasn’t ‘The Crows rule fantasy and they can set you free’ for nothing. They did it all. Had someone for everything and something for everyone. Escorts, prostitutes, strippers, companions at a price. And Rook was first rate, part of the reason her ‘standard package’ came at such a high cost. To most of her clientele, she was worth the price. But this was definitely new for her.

“Can’t consider this an escort job because there’s more acting involved. Not exactly a companion for hire either, you’re not wanting someone to act as your lover. No sex, so not a prostitute but definitely more labor intensive than you’d typically need from the other two… You know, I’m starting to see why you had such a hard time coming up with what to classify this transaction as, Professor!” She exclaimed. Emmrich wasn’t sure how to take the apparent amusement on her face.

“But as I said, I apologize for wasting your time. I’ve realized how utterly preposterous this all is.”

”So you’ve found someone then?” She asked.

“Well, no.”

“Then The Crows will happily be at your service, Professor.” Rook smiled while Emmrich was taken aback once again.

“Pardon?”

“We provide a service. We make your fantasies a reality. I can give that to you. All I need is payment and a good explanation of the situation and your requirements. We’ll draw up an agreement with my employer and get started whenever you’d like.” She explained confidently.

To say this was an unexpected turn would be an understatement. She spoke so plainly, seemingly unperturbed by his request. It somehow made Emmrich feel both relieved and yet further on edge as well. It was practically unbelievable that she could act so casually about this. Rook gestured towards the green sofa placed diagonally to her chair.

“Take a seat.” She commanded. Emmrich acquiesced, though partially out of confusion. “Start from the beginning, if you can. What exactly do you need me for?” Her body adjusted into a more comfortable sitting position, slouching back into the chair as she brought an Orlesian tipped nail to rest between her teeth.

“I work at Nevarra City University, I’m head of the Anthropology Department. Part of my job is allocating funding given to my department as well as securing said funding and managing grants. We’re a research department, funding is very important.”

“Money makes the world go around.” She remarked.

“A rather sizable portion of our funding comes from the Eluvian Foundation, an international organization that provides large donations to multiple universities every year which more or less keeps my department available to those who require a scholarship in order to attend.” In truth, many of his student body were at least on partial scholarship or financial assistance thanks to said organization. “But at the end of last semester, we were informed that several universities are having their funding either entirely cut or reduced due to a ‘lack of advancement or achievement’. It’s not set in stone yet. As far as I’m aware, the Foundation’s Board of Directors is taking this year to evaluate who gets what. They intend to host a gala where many of the universities are expected to send representatives of their departments in order to subtly flaunt the fruits of our labor.”

“Sounds like they’re sending you to the gallows. Or stand on trial.” That comment made Emmrich huff. Both in exasperation and a twinge of morbid hilarity.

“It certainly feels that way. My department had a student in mind to bring to this gala, Franziska. Brilliant young lady, truly, she made such wonderful progress on her research into The Banner Wars. But over the summer holiday, she had made the decision to not attend. As well as switch to all virtual lessons and not respond to any inquiries surrounding this decision. And I have been unfortunately unsuccessful in finding anyone else willing to take her spot.”

“So what I’m hearing is you’re desperate because without their money you won’t have as many students which could tank your department. Am I getting this right?”

“More or less.” He admitted somewhat begrudgingly. “We do important work. It’s cultural work, good for the community, the country as a whole. And my students, what they do is revolutionary! If there’s a chance I can prevent them from being overlooked in this way, I’ll take it.”

The woman grew quiet, expression calm despite the firm grip her teeth held on thumb nail. Emmrich wasn’t sure what to make of it. But what he had finally realized in the expanse of her silence was that she was not idling within it. Her eyes flicked to different parts of him, evaluating him with an amount of scrutiny that made him once again overly aware of everything. How near she was, the position she sat in, the way her clothes didn’t match said position and seemed to be raised uncomfortably high.

Rook was never one to waste an opportunity. She picked him apart again. He kept himself composed well enough, but the signs of nervousness were there. Sitting with good posture and his knees slightly parted in a casual manner, but his hands secretly fiddled with his rings. It didn’t seem like he was lying, and he did appear to be genuinely concerned. A decision came fairly quick.

She stood rather abruptly, coat falling into her previous spot. Her heels thudded with an uneven amount of sound as one remained on the rug and the other clacked against the hardwood. Passing by the television, she reached the small desk nearby and plucked the often forgotten notepad laying atop it. Carrying the papers back towards Emmrich, she shimmied her body between the sofa and the coffee table until she stood in front of the man.

Rook leaned forward. One of her legs bent against the cushion in between the gap Emmrich’s legs made. Her chest came dangerously close to Emmrich’s chin, providing an ample distraction from her finger’s delving into his vest’s top pocket and slipping a pen out of it. Though, if she was being honest, she mostly did it to see him get flustered. When she retreated, she was surprised to only see a light blush on his face. He was more cool under pressure than she had originally given him credit for.

Once she had the pen, she lowered herself until she was able to sit on top of the coffee table. Knees went up, dress opening a smidge thanks to a split on the backside as she brought her heels to the sofa and blocked Emmrich’s legs on either side. The notepad was pressed into her elevated thigh while she opened his fountain pen and began to write.

“We can either schedule appointments or you can check with my handler to see if I’m free if you need me on short notice. What days are you available?” She asked. Emmrich blinked quietly to himself as he fought the urge to look anywhere but her face once more. Until she shot him an expectant look. He cleared his throat.

“My official hours are 8am to 3pm most weekdays. Though I do have… other responsibilities as well. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I have time between 4 to 7. I would have to get back to you about weekends, those are less certain.” He explained.

“Got it. Well, as long as you don’t mind risking me being unavailable after 10 most Saturdays and Sundays then I think we can make that work. We’re pretty flexible with weekdays usually so I’ll write up a potential schedule and run it by you before we proceed. Do you require us to provide a secondary location or did you have one in mind?”

“Um, both? Depends on what we’re focusing our studies on. Libraries would probably be our most typical meeting point but those won’t always be reliable- Maker, I did not think this through all the way.” He said, running a hand over his hair.

“That’s okay. We can update the arrangements later, this is just so I can give a rough idea of the plan to my employer. Locations that we provide will cost you extra depending on availability and necessity. Additional charges may apply depending on method of transportation requirements as well. Any locations you provide will have to be vetted and documented. Safety and all that jazz.” She twirled the pen in faux enthusiasm. “Speaking of which, we’ll need to update your moniker for our files if you intend to be a repeat customer for the time being, Professor.”

“Emmrich. You can call me Emmrich, Miss Rook.” Might as well, he was already in this deep. A playful curl of her lips made him feel somewhat bashful.

“Cute name. Don’t worry, we keep all of our paper and data trails anonymous. ‘Professor E.V.’ is still too identifiable for us, so I’ll come up with something else…” She trailed off, contemplating. “You teach archeology, could call you something like ‘Fossils’ if you don’t mind jokes about your age.” Rook looked up to clock the slight scowl on his face and fought the chuckle it nearly elicited. “Or, we could go with something a little more crass, Bone Daddy.”

“Miss Rook!” He exclaimed in a disapproving whisper.

“Sorry, sorry! Couldn’t help myself. Okay, let’s be serious…” Rook’s eyes narrowed on his choice of neckwear for the day, a skull collar-pin. “How about Lichdom? Nevarra had that whole thing with preserving skeletons and calling them Liches, yeah?” That took Emmrich by surprise, both her knowing about that and the now certain fact that she wasn’t from Nevarra originally.

“You know about our historical burial practices?” He asked.

”Eh, a little bit. Mostly because of Nevarra being a bit ahead of the rest of the world when it came to surgical studies since you preserved organs for study.” She paused for a moment again. “But to be honest, the reason I thought about it was the leftovers from the Bone Daddy joke. Lich-Dom, get it? You just have this vibe about you!”

“What on earth could possibly give you that impression?” He asked rhetorically.

It was impressive how quickly she could change the energy of a conversation. Most people in Nevarra would briefly touch on the history of Lichdom as part of local history. He didn’t realize people may take an interest in it outside of the country. But then she’d say something like that to pull him out of his own intrigue.

“I’m good at my job, I notice things. You buttoned up types are one of two things usually. Quivering submissives who want a break from being so put together all the time or the more staunch Doms who like to feel fully in control because you act put together even if you’re not. I guess you could be somewhere right in between the two. We do have…” Rook tapped the screen of her smart watch, something Emmrich somehow hadn’t noticed she had on until now, and checked the time. “Another hour and twenty minutes give or take to find out. Moving on though, do you have preferences for how I dress during our appointments?” It took Emmrich a few additional seconds to respond as he processed her original statement.

“No?”

“Got it, got it. Leave the Pleasers and pasties at home unless I’m feeling frisky that day.” She joked while making that note. “For simplicity, we’ll consider this a ‘companion for hire’ deal since you just plan on teaching me. Which brings my rate down by quite a bit alone. So that should put you at somewhere around 50 Kings an hour before any additional charges I’ve already mentioned. Two hours a day, potentially three days a week, that takes us to 300 Kings a week without weekends. I might be able to wager a temporary additional discount depending on how the rest of this appointment goes but don’t hold your breath. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“I suppose it does… Miss Rook, I’m not entirely sure what to make of all of this.” He confessed.

”Yeah, I figured this was your first time with someone in my line of work. You’re doing very well. Just know you’re getting a very good deal with me. Most of my customers are paying… well, what you’re paying right now!”

The notepad met the surface of the table with a soft splat. Rook closed the cap on the pen but kept it between two fingers. In a slow, relaxed motion she leaned back, resting against her elbows and forearms to keep herself propped up. The right heel shifted, dragging up his side and cresting into his torso. The sole pressed lightly into the top of his vest. The black, pointed toe appeared to Emmrich like an arrowhead aimed towards his digastric muscle.

“With that being said, I did tell you there were no refunds. You get what you pay for, Emmrich.” She rolled the syllables of his name teasingly, pressing the shoe into his with a near imperceptible amount of added pressure. Just enough to make him feel the almost hypnotic need to fully lean back into the sofa.

The man swallowed a lump in his throat that he hadn’t realized was there, gaze trying to find a suitable place to settle when even her face seemed too tempting an image. The most obvious space he insisted on keeping his gaze away from was the widened but shadowed gap the opening in her dress made between her legs. A more labored breath went in through Emmrich’s nose. That did not go unnoticed by Rook. There was some level of satisfaction in knowing now for a fact that he was attracted to her, though she’d likely never admit that.

“You have made me awfully curious. What path will you take, I wonder.” Rook mused with a gentle sigh.

This was one of the parts of her job that she liked. People were predictable, and she wasn’t a fool. This Emmrich would either like to be subjugated or subjugate her. A lot of clients who wanted her in charge secretly liked the idea of being dominated by a ‘less valuable’ woman, something like a guilty pleasure. Rich tech-bro types who wanted the object of their scorn to grind them mercilessly into the dirt. Maybe this sweet little professor was frustrated with his snickering students and wanted a young lady to make the experience more tolerable.

The reverse also seemed just as likely. Rook could be the target of his less pleasant urges. All pulling hair, throwing her over a desk or a bent knee and getting it all out of his system. A bit of controlled catharsis. And as his hand came into contact with the undersides of her ankle, running the rounded curve of her calf, she thought she got her answer.

The feeling of nylon was familiar under the ghosting of his finger tips. Beneath her pantyhose and the layer of assuredly smooth flesh, Emmrich could feel an expanse of taut muscle. She had strong legs and even they smelled of that artificial berry and candy he had caught from her earlier. But under that he sensed something more herbal or dirty, like lavender and sweat. She didn’t resist him pulling her to the side in order for him to lean forward. Staunch Dom was the conclusion she came to.

“I believe I made it clear before that those aspects of your services won’t be necessary, Miss Rook.” It was tempting though, in different circumstances he knew he likely wouldn’t have turned down the offer.

Now it was her turn to try and hide a look of mild surprise. And Emmrich found that delightful in its own way. Once that feeling was shaken away, she simply shrugged her shoulders as though to say ‘your loss’. One leg swung over the other into a brief cross before moving to stand and walk in that direction in one fluid motion. The coat was back in her arms and being lifted over her shoulders no more than a moment later. Still, she maintained a polite smile that was perfectly trained.

“Probably for the best.” She remarked, turning back towards the professor. With a ginger hand, she reached for his vest pocket again and dropped the pen back into place, giving it a small pat for emphasis. “Wouldn’t want to muddy the waters too much. After all, I’m fairly certain if we did fulfill the original agreement, you’d have a hard time focusing on teaching me. And you’d probably be out a lot more money.”

Without any fanfare, Rook rounded the table to pull her used sheet from the notepad. She folded it neatly before slipping it into her jacket pocket. It wasn’t as though she was in a hurry, but truthfully an awkward tension did creep up her spine. Oddly enough, Emmrich felt compelled to try and apologize in case he somehow offended her in some way. But Rook once again had another point of conversation in mind to break up his instincts.

“I’m assuming the method of contact you used for us is still viable, yes?” She asked, adjusting her dress and jacket.

“Yes, that should be fine.” He replied.

“Good. We’ll contact you sometime tomorrow, was there a time you’d prefer?” She continued and Emmrich thought for a moment.

“Any time after 5pm should do fine if that’s alright.”

“Very well. My handler will go over the basics of the contract, you just reply with yes or no, then you both will agree to a meet up time and location, and I’ll deliver the documents for you to read over and sign.”

“I never knew these sorts of things were so structured.” He admitted, revealing more of his own inexperience.

“We like to be thorough. Can never be too careful these days, yeah? Occupational hazards around every corner.” Though she was jesting, Emmrich got the grotesque sense that she wasn’t actually joking as much as she’d like him to believe. “Well, if that’s all then I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair. Return the key to the front desk before the two hours are up.”

“I… will do that.”

Rook tied her leather coat around her waist and Emmrich naturally stood to accompany her to the door. Which he then quickly debated if that was necessary or even wanted. She turned her head over her shoulder with another cheeky grin, almost as if she was taunting him to go ahead and try, see what happens. When he didn’t approach further her eyes sharpened deviously.

“I’ll see you soon, Professor Emmrich.” She hummed before her thin heels carried her to the door.

In the wake of her absence, Emmrich felt strangely underwhelmed. Or perhaps he was feeling somewhat devoid of anything. Like being suspended in water slowly brought to a boil and then suddenly removed. Raw but numb. Recalling the texture of her stockings against his skin gave his blood the sensation of flowing through ice laden veins.

Rook strutted back down the hallway and made her way to the elevator. On the way she passed by one of the several housekeepers she knew who worked in The Lighthouse and let them know that the cleanup was going to be minimal today. Once the elevator door closed, she took advantage of the new privacy to tap her watch again.

“Hey C.T.” She called into it and received a gentle chime in response. “Text T. Leaving early, will swing by office to update. Tell V not to blow a gasket.”

“Would you like to send?” A calm voice bounced inside the closed space.

“Yes.” The chime blinked, letting her know the message was sent.

The elevator reached the ground floor not long after. A quick exit from the lift and she unceremoniously crossed the lobby and left the building. Someone near check-in did less than subtly look her up and down as she walked past but that was normal. The company car she took was around the corner where employees would normally park. Which was also on the opposite side of where her new found client’s room was facing. There were never too many precautions, as Viago would say.

Every company car was black, each kept pristinely clean no matter the model. Nothing too fancy for her today, didn’t want it to stand out too much. The door unlocked with a click from inside her pocket. Once she was inside with the door closed behind her, her undecorated hands tapped against the steering feel in an off kilter melody. A long pause came where she debated laying her head against the steering wheel. She shouldn’t, didn’t want to get makeup on it.

“A steady stream of income never hurt anybody.” Rook sighed to herself.

Her heels slipped off her feet and she leaned over to pluck them off the ground and flick them into the passenger's seat. Then she reached below the seat itself to retrieve a worn, faded to grey messenger bag. Riffling through the contents, her fingers finally caught on to one of the objects of her attention.

Life had its simple pleasures for Rook. Her favorite of which was a popular gas station staple. Blue-raspberry flavored Lyri-yum suckers. She made sure the wrapper found its place back in the bag alongside all the others she’d had since yesterday. The stick fixed between her teeth as she started the engine. Just a little something to take the edge of uncertainty off.

Sweet and familiar.

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey y'all! It's been a good week for me. I got to go to a British High Tea for the first time ever and had a blast. No cake trolleys though (sorry, Simon!).

I've loved reading your excerpts over the last few weeks, and I've started listening to the podfic fest entries on my drives to and from work (Shout out to @caethes for podding my fic Threads of Fate!). It's so nice to have more audiobooks from Carry On without Rainbow Rowell having to write a new book!

Thank you and tag backsies to @wellbelesbian, @messofthejess, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, @whatevertheweather, @best--dress, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @nightimedreamersghost, @theearlgreymage and @hushed-chorus

From my fic for the Carry On-Reverse Bang:

“B-Baz,” I stuttered, trying to scramble to my feet. Trying, and failing. The moment I tried to get up, a wave of dizziness hit me, coinciding with a stab of pain in my head. I sagged back to the ground and lifted my hand to my hair. My hair felt wet and my scalp pulsed with pain when I brushed my fingers over it. When I pulled my hand free, it was dark and wet looking.

From my COTTA 2023, Snow Fox:

“I missed you,” he sighs, when we have to break apart for air. 

“I always miss you,” I grumble, resting my forehead against his shoulder. He laughs silently; I can feel his chest bouncing against mine. 

“You always have to make everything a contest,” he says, but his voice is fond. 

“I won your heart, didn’t I?” I smirk at him and he punches me gently in the shoulder. 

“Arse,” he laughs.

From my Age of Sail AU, Stars, Flowers, and Children:

I know we’re far too young to take care of ourselves. If I were a few years older, I’d probably strike off on my own, because living with Davy is nearly unbearable. I’d try to convince Simon to come with me, but I think I’d go, even if he refused. 

But I’m not a few years older. I’m twelve, and I’m afraid. I don’t know if Simon or I could survive without an adult to guide us, no matter how vindictive he is. 

As it turns out though, we aren’t given a choice.

And a slightly more than 6 sentence snip from my TikTok dancer AU (needs a name!):

Penelope narrows her eyes at him. “Snow is an odd name,” she points out, and I realize with a jolt that I never even tried to take on a human name. Shepard knows me by my birth name, but I know enough after a year of living around them that humans don’t go by a single name. Shit!

Shepard’s eyes look equally panicked for a moment, but he swiftly smooths over his expression. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says to Penelope. “Snow is his surname. But that’s how he introduced himself to me last year, so that’s what I’ve gotten used to calling him.”

“And your full name is?” she asks me, not Shepard. My brain scrambles frantically for a human name I can live with. For some reason, my mind stops on a memory of a particular judge on one of the dancing competitions I’ve been watching. 

“My first name is Simon!” I blurt, a little too forcefully. 

Nothing from Saving Simon Snow this week, it's giving me hell at the moment.

Tagging:

@angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @frjsti, @gekkoinapeartree, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @letraspal, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @rimeswithpurple, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @vampire-named-gampire, @whogaveyoupermission, @yellobb, @yeonjunenby

[daughterofhecata]

@tatort-rocky-beach afaik taucht Cotta in "Tatort Zirkus" quasi aus dem Nichts auf, so weit ich weiß gibt es keine Hinweise, dass er früher in L. A. gearbeitet hat, das ist mal wieder einer dieser fanons, die sich auf magische Weise verbreiten 🙈😄

I can’t be the only fanfic writer who’s forgotten what details are canon and what’s just dumb shit I made up.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

Credo che possiamo affermare con assoluta certezza che tutte le bambine della parrocchia avrebbero una cotta fotonica per Nico l'animatore del Grest, E LE MAMME SAREBBERO PURE PEGGIO, "tanto un caro ragazzo lui..."

Ah, sì. Poco ma sicuro. Headcanon accepted. Passerebbe il tempo circondato da bimbe (e bimbi perché no) adoranti che lo seguono ovunque e che parlano di lui talmente tanto a casa che tutti i genitori si sono fatti assurdi film mentali su questa figura mitologica. E poi se lo trovano davanti all'orario di uscita e pure le mamme perdono la testa.

A riguardo, piccolo aneddoto personale: anche io quando facevo l'animatrice ero molto apprezzata dai più piccoli XD Una volta un bambino di seconda elementare mi ha regalato una carta Pokémon e mi ha chiesto di sposarlo.

Quindi, dato che avevo promesso avrei provato a scrivere un po', complimenti: hai vinto una drabble ispirata proprio a questo fatto realmente accaduto! :D

.

Innocent proposal (animatore!Nicky AU)

When the bell rings, announcing it’s time to gather up the teams for prayers before heading to the mess hall for lunch, Nicky is still helping Jacopo solve a math problem.

“It’s okay. We will finish this tomorrow.” he smiles at the 9 years old, who looks ready to bolt, summer homework already very far from his young mind.

“Grazie, Nico!” he exclaims, while dutifully picking up his book and pencil case.

Nicky gets up, helps the kids gather their stuff, cleans up the study room and heads down to the gym, where Don Luigi is waiting for all the 120 kids attending this year’s oratorio estivo to sit on the floor before starting his usually brief and often sung pre-lunch prayer.

.

The gym is already full of it’s typical colourful mass of kids, from the ‘juniores’ to the ‘seniores’, all with caps and neckerchiefs of their team’s colour: blue, red, yellow or green.

Nicky is about to slalom through a group of rowdy seniores to reach the side of the gym where the other animatori are seated, when he feels a tug at the back of his t-shirt.

He stops, turns his head and looks down, surprised in seeing little Chiara biting her lips and still holding the hem of his shirt in her tiny fist.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, smiling down at her.

When she lets him go, he turns and crouches down at her level, balancing on his heels, to give his whole attention to the shy, sweet 7 years old.

“Vanessa taught us how to make beaded bracelets.” she says, her voice so thin it’s almost impossible to hear her mumbling beneath the chaos of the gym.

“Did she? That’s very nice!” he encourages her, while in his mind he is revising his animatrice friend Vanessa, that very morning, cursing at all the colourful beads boxes she had to carry from the storage to the art laboratory.

Chiara, who already has her own bracelet around her small wrist, produces another bracelet from her jeans’ pocket: it has beads of all the colours of the rainbow, not really placed in a logical order. At the center there is a dice shaped white bead with an ‘N’ printed on it.

“This is for you.” Chiara says, possibly even more softly than before.

“Grazie, Chiara! È bellissimo!” exclaims Nicky, accepting the gift and immediately snapping the plastic elastic band around his thick wrist: the bracelet it’s a bit tight, but he’s surely gonna wear it proudly all through summer camp now.

“It’s because I think you’re very nice and handsome and I like you very very much.” says Chiara then, somewhere somehow finding the courage to even raise her voice a bit.

Nicky blinks exactly twice, then he smiles sweetly, trying not to burst into a laugh in the face of such a cute love confession: “Thank you, I like you too.” he says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in his huge one. He can’t help falling a bit in love with every small kid he tutors during oratorio estivo each summer: they’re adorable, even the most troublemakers.

Then Chiara asks suddenly: “Will you marry me, Nicolò?”, catching him so off guard he almost loses balance on his crouching and falls on his ass.

He fumbles, looking into her hopeful, big green eyes as she waits for an answer. He knows he can’t get away with a joke or an attempt to gloss over. He has to give her a reply, so as not to hurt the shy girl’s feelings.

.

Later that evening, Nicky is sprawled on the couch eating popcorn, distractedly watching some superhero movie on Joe’s big flatscreen TV while his boyfriend slowly and lovingly massages his sore feet and calves. Joe has had Nicky’s legs propped on his lap since the moment they sat down, claiming that helping Nicky relax and ease the pain of more than 8 hours spent standing, running and lifting heavy stuff, was his favourite job.

Above them the ceiling fan whirs in a monotone and Nicky is almost falling asleep were it not for the loud booms of explosions from the TV and the many sounds of late summer evenings coming from the street’s bars and restaurants below. Joe’s apartment is in a very lively neighbourhood.

By the minute Nicky is feeling his eyelids drooping and his breath becoming deeper and slower and he’s about to let slumber win when Joe suddenly moves, getting up.

“I bought gelato. The pistacchio and stracciatella one you like so much. Want some?” he asks, already smiling, knowing that not even deep tiredness could deter Nicky from eating his favourite summer dessert.

“Ti amo tantissimo.” he just mumbles as a reply, smiling dumbly with his eyes half closed and his neck skewed at such an odd angle he must have at least five chins showing. He can’t even English at the moment, so he just continues with much fondness: “Cosa devo fare io per meritarmi un amore grande così…”

Joe snorts, having heard him from the kitchen.

He comes back a few minutes later, one cup of ice cream and a spoon in each hand, and places them on the coffee table before bending to kiss Nicky on the (slightly sweaty, ugh, gross) forehead.

“You have to kiss me, hold me close even if it’s summer…” he starts listing, plopping down on the couch and then in Nicky’s arms, linking their legs, pushing his face against Nicky’s too warm collarbone.

His mop of curls brushes under Nicky’s nose and he huffs, but still accepts the weight (and warmth) of his boyfriend on his tired body.

“You have to take me out on dates, go to the beach with me when oratorio estivo is over and, one day, you will have to marry me.” continues Joe, each word kissed against the skin of Nicky’s neck.

“Marry? You wanna get married?” asks Nicky, worsening his multiple chin situation to look down into Joe’s glinting eyes.

“Eventually? In our late twenties? When you’ll be a doctor and I’ll be a famous artist? Yes.” he confesses, suddenly almost shy, but with a gaze full of trust and love.

“That’d be nice.” immediately replies Nicky, heart engulfed in the same sentiment he sees in Joe’s perfect eyes: “But alas,” he sighs theatrically, placing the back of his right hand above his forehead, for emphasis.

“‘Alas’ what?” asks Joe, pushing himself up a bit, looking confused.

“I’ve already accepted one marriage proposal today, I’m afraid.” admits Nicky, showing the beaded bracelet on his wrist, his new love token.

“Excuse me?” protests Joe, his disbelieving expression so cute Nicky can’t help but grin and boop him on the nose.

“Yeah, a young suitor asked for my hand in marriage, today. In, let’s see… 11 years, she will be of age and we will tie the knot.” he explains, barely succeeding in holding back a laugh.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, a mischievous grin spreading on his beautiful red lips. He flops down heavily once again, punching the air out of Nicky’s lungs and then he rubs his itchy, bearded chin on his boyfriend’s chest. “That’s alright,” he declares after he’s satisfied with his retaliation methods: “I’ll just have to kidnap and marry you before that, then.” he reasons.

“Oh, you brute.” sighs Nicky, finally placing his hand on Joe’s jaw to guide him up and steal a kiss from his smiling lips.

Joe kisses back, with mirth and then with intensity, stealing his breath and dissipating, in an instant, all of Nicky’s tiredness.

When they part, Joe has his hands in Nicky’s hair and Nicky’s left hand, the clever bastard, now rests on Joe’s ass.

The movie, the lively evening outside, the fatigue of the day, everything is forgotten. Except: “Now that that’s sorted out, amore mio, pass me the gelato.”

.

Notes: Nicky is 18 and Joe is 21 in this, I guess. Sorry for the mistakes, English is (obviously) not my first language. Hope you enjoyed!

[the-herdier]

So, I have an idea...

An AU in which Phoenix defends a young Italian boy -a prodigy law student by the name of Panna Cotta Fugo- in a case where he is accused of attacking and killing one of his professors by beating him over the head with a textbook. He is able to prove Fugo's testimony of self-defense despite the boy's history of a violent temper and the heavy corruption in the judicial system, but the boy's family disowns and abandons him regardless, so he takes him in to give him a home and allow him to continue his studies.

Fugo meets much of the rest of the cast and finds his new sister Trucy somewhat annoying but is able to form a supportive relationship with Athena (who knows a few things about how to control one's anger without lashing out), Edgeworth (who understands somewhat), and of course Phoenix.

[dragon-kazansky]

Recipe for love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @rumblelibrary

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 6

Friday. It's Friday. The grand opening!

Natasha came to your place early and gave you a long speech about you being on your best behaviour. It was vital that everything went well tonight as Zemo had some very important guests coming.

You just smiled and told her everything would be fine. You would make whatever they ordered and everything would be fine. Despite that, she still held doubt toward you. Natasha knew you better than anyone.

You both arrived at the restaurant exactly when Zemo had asked you to be there. All the chefs were gathered in the kitchen, waiters were standing out front with the hosts, and the doors would be open in less than hour so he had to make sure he spoke with everyone.

He didn't bother looking as you and Natasha joined the others.

"I cannot state this clear enough, no fuck ups. We cannot afford for anything to go wrong. If you fuck up, I'll fire you."

Everyone nodded silently.

"This is my restaurant. You do as I say. I'll be up front all evening, cooking beside you, checking everything, I will not leave this kitchen unless necessary. I will see everything you're doing, hear everything you say. You all did quite well this week, but I need you to be better."

He eyed every single person in that kitchen.

"You."

His eyes narrowed on you.

"Yes, chef."

"Get started, now. I need fresh desserts."

He had to be fucking kidding! Why did he ask you to be here with everyone else. You should have come earlier to start.

You decided to bite back your temper, knowing Natasha was looking at you, and make your way to your work station. You get started.

You can only hope to have desserts ready in time. He should have known you would need extra time. Too late to do anything about it now.

The restaurant roars to life.

The doors open, the customers enter, the waiters out front greet and smile at people. It isn't long before orders come flooding into the kitchen.

Helmut Zemo is right there to call them out.

All around you is an echo of 'yes chef!'

You focus on the desserts. Those who have pre ordered their desserts are easy. You can do us on those.

It's anyone who hasn't ordered yet that worries you. You're the only person at this work station. You have to bake, prep, and decorate everything to perfection.

That bastard is either a fool or he's testing you.

Zemo's shouts across the kitchen don't go unnoticed by you. Even if it's not aimed at you, it's distracting and annoying. It's going to take everything in you not to throw something at him.

Why is it so hard for him to be a decent human being?

So many meals had been sent out... they'll want dessert soon and you're not quite ready.

You can feel his gaze on you.

You glance up.

Those dark eyes of his are glaring at you. He's confident enough to take his eyes off of what he's cooking to glare at you.

You glare back.

Just as you cast your eyes down to focus back on your work, his voice rings out loudly across the kitchen.

"Are those desserts done yet?"

"Not yet."

"Hurry up!" He growls.

You resist biting back as you check the cheesecake you had prepared. It was almost done. The tiramisu was as good as done too. The came was still in the oven, you would lucky if you could decorate it in time. Then you remember the panna cotta, damn it!

You wipe at your brow with your arm and check the cake. It's not going to be done in time. He'll throw a fit.

A clatter up ahead has you looking up.

Zemo's base narrows on the young man who was scrambling to pick up the dish he dropped.

"Pick that up and get out of the way!"

Peter, you had learned his name is, quickly grabs everything and hurries off to the side. Apparently, he was one of Zemo's favourites to yell at... other than you, perhaps.

"Where the fuck are the desserts?"

You glare back at Zemo.

"I'm going as fast as I can! If you wanted them done sooner, you should have asked me here sooner!"

"Are you always this rude and disrespectful?" He growls.

"Are you?"

He is gripping the frying pan he's using with quite a bit of strength. He looks like he's trying so hard not to throw it at you.

"Hurry the fuck up or get out."

You can't physically go any faster than you are now. By the time the cake is ready to come out, desserts are being requested. Zemo comes over to your work station with Loki and Sylvie in tow. They take slices of the cheesecake and tiramisu. You're preparing the panna cotta you almost forgot about, and you just manage to get an apple pie into the oven now that the cake is done. Everything is a mess, but at least you have desserts going out.

You make each dish presentable as Loki and Sylvie take a slice of the desired dessert. They smile at you before they take up front where the waiters can collect it.

Zemo remains hovering over your work station. He has his hands on his hips and you can see how tense his shoulders are.

The man was pissed.

"What?"

"You're too fucking slow. Almost everything has been perfect except for you."

"You hired me."

"Because your desserts are perfect. You are not. You are slow, rude, disrespectful, and your attitude is a mess. I can't believe you're the best baker I could find," he hisses.

"Backward compliment."

"Shut up and hurry up."

"You know, it would be a whole lot easier if you stopped hovering over me. I can't cool down a cake any quicker. I can't bake the pie any quicker. Have you ever baked something before?"

"Of course I have," he says, offended at the notion.

"Then you should know."

"I have made everything on me menu. Everything a hundred times better than what you're producing."

"THEN YOU BAKE!"

"Do not raise your voice at me," he snarls, pointing his finger in your direction.

"Then piss off!"

Other than the sounds of things cooking, everything else is silent. Everyone was staring over at you, but you couldn't care less right now.

Zemo was glaring harder than ever.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" You ask, unsure if you actually heard him.

"Get. Out."

"You're kicking me out?"

"GET OUT!" He swipes his arm across your work station and knocks over the things you were going to use on the cake.

You jump as they clatter to the ground.

You glare at Zemo.

"Fine, asshole. You bake. Fuck you!" You throw the spatula you had been holding down and storm out of the kitchen.

Zemo turns on his heel.

"GET BACK TO WORK," he glares.

Everyone quickly continues focusing on what they're doing.

Zemo takes over for you.

Things seem to go a lot smoother now that you're gone. He can focus better. He decorates the cake his way, dishes out everything as it comes in, and even makes more cheesecake as it seems popular tonight.

You do not return to the restaurant that night.

It's late when the doors close. Everyone cleans up the kitchen and leaves it spotless. Zemo is in his office counting up the profits of the evening when everyone else leaves.

Natasha casts a glance at your work station.

She warned you, but she was also worried about you.

You and Zemo existing in the same space just led to hatred and anger. Neither one of you could co-exist. They really needed you to if this was going to work out. You can't be yelling at each other every night.

At least he didn't fire you... yet.

As soon as she exists the restaurant, she pulls out her phone.

Nat: hey, how are you doing?

No response. It is late though.

Nat: Zemo will probably want to see you tomorrow. Just be careful, OK?

She sighs and heads home.

You lay awake on your bed watching your phone light up. You don't even check them. Most of them are from Nat, but you saw Thor's name pop up a couple of times.

He was worried about you.

That made you happy. Thor was nice, you liked him. He fit into your little friend group nicely.

You sigh as roll over and lay on your back.

You would face Zemo with your head held high tomorrow. Whatever he threw at you, you would throw back 10x worse.

You'll show him what you're capable of.

The long con. That would be far more satisfying. You smile. If Zemo was going to continue to be a dick, you would fight fire with fire.

You just hoped he wouldn't humiliate you again.

@lieutenantn @rumblelibrary @bigtiddythanos @timmvrphy @vverliebt @thatoneartgalsstuff @apparrio @mischief-siriusly-managed @hb8301 @zemosimp05 @madhatter2727 @aarielsea @alex-the-nb @thesuitkovian @handmaiden-of-mischief @malkaviangirl @charistory @killeromanoff @latenightartist-author @belle82devart @alindeluce @anteroom-of-death @mssennimatilda @unbeatablecurlgirl @bruhidaniel @nonamec0s @fablesrose @lemairepstuff @marchingicenotes7 @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @awhorewithissues @secretly-a-weeb

[kurowrites]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU Prompt for Wangxian, if you like?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

---

When Wei Ying woke up, he had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the bright glare of the lights overhead, momentarily blinding him. Something was weird. This definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, whose lighting was rather dim and most definitely off when he was sleeping.

He blinked a few times more and then turned his head to examine the room he was in.

It took him far too long to understand what he was seeing, but once his brain actually started processing it, there was no doubt. He was in a hospital room, complete with barren walls and the strong smell of disinfectant. But he had no memory that could explain why he would be waking up in a hospital bed. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d woken up here, or even what day of the week it was.

Impatient to have his questions answered, he tried to wriggle around and slip out of bed, but his body felt oppressively heavy, and his vision started to swim as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow.

Exhausted and distressed, he fell back into bed. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he feeling so terrible?

Just that moment, the door of the hospital room opened, and a nurse stepped in.

“Oh, you are awake,” she said. “Good.”

She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

 (When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

(Who was going to count.)

[captain-aralias]

Romance novel prompts

i’ve just been digging through my simon snow folder for WIPs, and found these... 

these are historical AU fic prompts based around Mills & Boon/Harlequin summaries with the names changed. i got them from the Unconventional Courtship generator (which still works - you can use it for more lulzy times), which was built by someone for a fest i ran back in the day. 

i generated them for myself when trying to think of ideas for @carryonthroughtheages

i eventually ended up writing Tyrannus, which wasn’t based on a M&B summary at all, and will probably never write these prompts, so they’re yours if you want them, particularly since COTTA is back. 

but also - i find them funny, so sharing for the lulz.

His Mask of Retribution

The Last Man He Could Ever Love… Handsome Simon Snow has had his share of suitors – and his share of scandal. Three engagements, no wedding… And the ton are beginning to talk. Smouldering Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch has lived the last fifteen years of his life with one goal: avenging the death of his parents. His final target? The Earl of Misbourne. The perfect bartering tool? The Earl’s son, Simon… Held at gunpoint on Hounslow Heath, Simon is taken captive by a mysterious masked highwayman. His father must pay the price – but Simon finds more than vengeance in the highwayman’s warm amber grey eyes

The Outrageous Belle Marchmain Baz Pitch

A MARRIAGE MOST INCONVENIENT! Agreeing to a fake betrothal should suit both society dressmaker Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and landowner Simon Snow fittingly - clearing Baz's debts and keeping Simon's husband-hunters at bay. Even if blue-blooded Baz, with his extravagant clothes and razor-sharp tongue, despises the very air that nouveau riche Simon breathes! If Simon wants a husband who's agreeable he has his work cut out. Yet when his demanding mouth caresses Baz's for the first time ever he’s lost for words. Maybe Simon's found the one way to tame the only man who's ever stood up to him and make him say, ‘I do...'

Captain Rose’s Snow’s Redemption

Who had his former fiancé become?Captured by pirates off the Virginia coast, Lord Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is shocked to see in the blue eyes of Captain Simon Snow the young man he loved and lost. What has caused him to exchange his honour for a chance at revenge? But now he needs his help. Dare Baz believe the captain can reclaim his life as an upstanding gentleman and with it, his hand in marriage?

[gerec]

AU-gust 2020 Prompts

AUs 1-10 on Ao3

11. Farm/Ranch AU - Cherik Xavierine, Cherigan? 12. Crime AU - Cherik 13. Rock Band AU - Cherik, Xavierine 14. Vampire AU - Cherik

15. Modern AU - Cherik

---

Instead of Role Reversal I went with the option of Modern AU! Thanks to everyone who sent me ideas, and an extra big thanks to @kianspo for the prompt! I hope you don’t mind that I tweaked it a little. :D

(Erik doesn’t keep kosher in this verse. Also CRACK.)

---

By the time the appetizers arrive Charles is ready to throw in the towel, and concede that this is in fact, the worst first date he’s ever been on in his entire life.

Strike 1 – His date is handsome, well-bred, fabulously wealthy, and supposedly in the line of succession for the tiny Eastern European nation of Latvia. He is also arrogant, self-important, and loves hearing himself talk, and Charles swears he’s going to murder Reed Richards, who told Charles he knew ‘the perfect person to set you up with to get over your ex’, and that was after talking him into taking over Genetics 101 class for the fall term.

Murder.

Strike 2 – They’re at his favorite restaurant, or the one that used to be his and Erik’s favorite place to go, a charming little Italian trattoria with the best panna cotta in all of Manhattan. Victor had taken one look at the homey, down-to-earth décor and snorted, and offered to get them reservations elsewhere, guaranteed to have much better food and service.

Charles had to refrain from braining the man with his menu.

Worse is the fact that not ten minutes after they’re seated, Charles spies Erik arriving with Moira for dinner, with the owner greeting them warmly and placing them at a table much too close for comfort. He manages a half smile, half grimace when Erik and Moira wave at him, though thankfully (or rather not, since it might actually improve the evening to have his ex and his best friend interrupt his blind date) they choose not to make their way over for an awkward introduction.

He thinks it’s entirely unfair that he’d much rather be over at their table, drinking wine and laughing about Erik’s minions or Moira’s cases, than being stuck here listening to Dr. Boring go on and on and on about his giant castle and his super-duper secret important research…

Strike 3 comes just after the main course, when the nervous young man at the next table pops the question to his unsuspecting companion. Between the lovely (if overly saccharine) vows of adoration, the enthusiastic applause by the other diners and some rather overt eye rolling by his own snobby date, Charles is ready to skip dessert and call it a night – preferably with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Chip Happens’ in front of the TV.

Of course his plan is completely upended when one half of the newly engaged starts choking, having inhaled a piece of steak much too quickly in his excited state. Frantic, Charles grabs Victor and tugs him out of his chair, and shoves him at the young man and his panicky fiancé and demands, “Quick, you have to help him.”

Startled, Victor looks at him and says, “What? I don’t know how to help!”

By now the dining room is in chaos, with the waiter running to the kitchen to find someone to help. “What do you mean you don’t know how?” Charles snaps, “you’re a doctor!”

“I’m not…actually a doctor?” Victor admits, looking a little sheepish for the first time this evening. “I mean, I did get an honorary—”

“Oh do shut up,” Charles growls, shoving him out of the way. In the same instant, Erik appears at his side like a guardian angel, and performs the Heimlich on the poor boy to the relief of the entire restaurant.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” the fiancé cries, as Charles and Erik help the two of them pack up their things. It’s important to get checked out by a doctor, he tells them, to ensure there are no lasting effects from choking, and they are too shocked and relieved to do much more than let themselves get gently herded out the door and into a cab.

When he steps back inside the restaurant, Erik at his heels, he finds the owner waiting for them, pulling first Charles and then Erik into a hug.

Massimo shakes his head and shudders. “Those poor boys. Thank goodness for you two. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

Charles laughs. “Much as I would love to take credit, it was all Erik’s doing. He’s the hero of the night.”

“Yes, yes,” Massimo agrees, “but he wouldn’t have been over there so fast if he hadn’t been watching your table all night, am I right?”

Charles can’t believe it, but Erik actually flushes a delightful pink at Massimo’s teasing, and pretends to scowl at the elderly man when they both start to chuckle. “I wasn’t watching the table! I was just…wondering what kind of man wears a cape to dinner.”  

He can’t even be mad at Erik’s little jab, because Charles had thought the exact same thing.

“Oh hey Charles, sorry to interrupt.” It’s their favorite waiter Sean, who had been shooting dirty looks at Victor all night, much to Charles’ amusement. “Your date paid the bill and left. He said to tell you he’s sorry he had to leave but there was an emergency and blah blah blah he’ll call you. God, what an absolute prick.”

“Now Sean—” Massimo says warningly, though he can’t quite keep the grin off his face.

“No, no Sean’s right.” He can’t even be mortified that Erik is right here, getting a front row seat to the utter shit show of a date he’s had all evening; he’s that relieved it’s over. “That was a huge, terrible, catastrophic mistake I won’t be repeating again. I just want to go home and pretend this entire night never happened.”

“Or you could join us for dessert?”

Charles turns to find Erik looking at him rather intently, almost…hopeful as he waits for an answer.

“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

This time Erik rolls his eyes at him and snorts. “Moira and I are just catching up on work and Tony’s latest disaster.” Then his expression softens and he adds, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and had a chance to talk. I’d like to know how you’ve been doing. Please.”

“I—”

“I’ll bring another place setting over.” Sean interrupts with a grin.

“And I’ll bring you your favorite Panna cotta for two, and a tiramisu for Ms. MacTaggert, yes?” Massimo says, entirely unashamed with his blatant meddling.

Charles laughs; he can’t say no to what is admittedly a lovely offer, and a chance to turn the disastrous evening around to something much more enjoyable – certainly not when all three faces are looking at him with such hope and expectation.    

“Dessert sounds great,” he says, and lets Massimo herd them towards Erik’s table.

[daughterofhecata]

2 or 5 of the one liner prompts, perhaps with Skinny/(young) Goodween if you feel like it? Sending you strength and love and hugs 🐻🐻

[smutty one-liners]

Irgendwie ist das... nicht nur schon wieder kein smut geworden, sondern zu allem Überfluss auch noch emotionally complicated und irgendwie bitter 🙈 Sorry bout that!

[read on ao3]

2. “Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.” + Skinny/Goodween

Seufzend sah Goodween sich in dem kleinen Motelzimmer nach seinen Klamotten um. Stand etwas widerwillig auf, während Skinny weiterhin nackt auf dem breiten Bett lungerte.

„Ich muss los, meinem Vorgesetzten Bericht erstatten“, erklärte Goodween, in vollem Wissen der Tatsache, dass es Skinny wahrscheinlich eh nicht interessierte, und schlüpfte in seine Boxershorts.

„Über alles?“, wollte Skinny wissen, das dreckige Grinsen unüberhörbar in seiner Stimme.

Goodween war dankbar dafür, dass er Skinny den Rücken zudrehte, sich sowieso gerade nach seiner Hose bückte, sodass Skinny sein Gesicht nicht sehen konnte. Es fiel ihm schon schwer, sich selbst zu erklären und vor sich selbst zu rechtfertigen, warum er immer wieder mit Skinny ins Bett ging, der zwar nur ein paar Jahre jünger war als er, aber eben auch ein stadtbekannter Kleinkrimineller. Aber Cotta ausführlich berichten zu müssen, was genau sie… nun ja, getrieben hatten, Cotta, der in so mancher von Goodweens heimlichen Fantasien auftauchte, würde ihn vermutlich im Boden versinken lassen.

„Über meine Unterhaltung mit einem Informanten, der mir zwar bestätigt hat, dass Wagner wieder in der Stadt ist, aber ansonsten keine weiteren Details nennen konnte“, widersprach er so ruhig wie möglich.

Von Skinny kam ein genervtes Geräusch. „Jetzt tu nicht so unschuldig, wir wissen beide, wo dein Mund vor zwei Minuten gewesen ist.“

Goodween schoss das Blut ins Gesicht und er war wieder einmal sehr froh darüber, dass das bei ihm nicht so stark auffiel. In der Tat wusste er sehr genau, wo sein Mund vor zwei Minuten noch gewesen war, schließlich konnte er Skinny immer noch auf der Zunge schmecken, hatte ihn so tief geschluckt, wie er konnte, Skinny seinen Mund ficken lassen.

Er streifte sein T-Shirt über. „Ich gehe davon aus, dass du genauso wenig willst, dass Cotta erfährt, dass du für einen Cop auf die Knie gehst, wie ich will, dass er weiß, dass ich es mit einem Kleinkriminellen treibe“, gab er kühl zurück. Ersteres war zwar an diesem Tag nicht vorgekommen, in der Vergangenheit jedoch durchaus. Und sie wussten beide, was Skinny blühte, wenn diese Information auf dem Revier die Runde machen sollte.

„Leck mich“, knurrte Skinny hinter ihm.

Sorgfältig überprüfte Goodween noch einmal, ob er alles hatte, vor allem Handy, Geldbörse, Schlüssel. Dann ging er zur Tür.

Wandte sich noch einmal um, der Anblick von Skinny auf dem Bett ausgebreitet, die langen, schlanken Glieder, die Tattoos aus der blassen Haut, die Zigarette zwischen den geschickten Fingern und giftiges Feuer in den Augen, erinnerte ihn daran, warum er sich auf diese Dummheit jedes Mal erneut einließ.

„Nächstes Mal wieder“, erwiderte er, bevor er endgültig das Zimmer verließ.

Kaugummis und Deo hatte er im Auto, wenn er zusätzlich bis zum Revier mit offenem Fenster fuhr, würden hoffentlich alle verräterischen Gerüche verfliegen, bevor er Cotta gegenüber treten musste.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Witches are born with a wide variety of powers. Some are common, gifted to each witch born with the blood, like healing and the ability to cast incantations. Others are given sparingly by Great Mother, envied by the ones who don’t possess them. Those gifts, however, can be a curse.

You were hidden away within the trees, next to the stream not too far from your home. If you squinted enough, you could make out the faded yellow walls and old terra cotta shingles that made up the small cottage you grew up in. No one would find you here. No one cared to venture this far into the woods. It wasn’t as dangerous for witches as it was for humans, but one couldn’t be too careful. At least, that’s what Mother Willow constantly said. It never stopped you, though.

All was quiet for the most part. Sure, birds were chirping and water was running over the rocks it’d long ago smoothed into a slick surface, but the soundtrack of the forest was the only sound that could be heard around you. That was good. That was what you needed.

Taking one last peek around you to be completely certain that you were alone, you scooted closer to the edge of the river and held out your hand.

At first nothing happened. In the past, it had been accidents, not involving your concentration. But you knew you could do it. On the rare occasions you’d been able to practice on your own, you’d been successful once or twice. So, you pictured it over and over in your head, the water rising up, swirling together to create a little sphere. It seemed simple enough, however, you were struggling. The water was barely coming up out of the river. You could lift it, but you couldn’t make it take form.  

Frustration built up inside of you. If you’d been allowed to train properly, this wouldn’t be so difficult. You’d be able to do much more than this. Why couldn’t they just-

“(y/n)?”

You gasped, swirling around in your spot. But you weren’t the only thing that moved. The water you’d been manipulating shot through the air, hitting Soomi in the face, drenching her.

“Oh, crap!” You jumped to your feet, searching for anything that might help her dry off. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Its okay, (y/n),” Soomi sighed as she rung out her hair. The drops of water splattered against the dried fallen leaves before dispersing in even tinier particles. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was, um, I was just-” Caught. That’s what you were. You were caught red handed doing the one thing you were ordered not to do. Well, maybe ordered was a little strong. It was simply “highly suggested” that you didn’t try to “overextend your gifts”. A.k.a., don’t use them at all.

You couldn’t entirely blame the mothers for being wary of what you could do. Sometimes, when they acted on their own, your powers scared even you.

Centuries had gone by since the last recorded incident of a witch born with elemental abilities. No one quite knew what to do with you once your “gifts” had been discovered and several of the elder witches didn’t exactly hide how they felt. While they weren’t advocating for you to be locked in a dungeon for the rest of your life, you had heard whispers of binding spells. It wasn’t your fault that the last witch had gone crazy and killed almost an entire village before she died as well. You weren’t her, so why were they treating you’d risen from her grave?

Soomi was kinder towards you from the beginning, like an older sister you’d never asked for, but turned out you needed anyway.  

The older witch released another sigh. The look of sympathy on her face made you want to scowl, but you held it back. You knew it came from a good place. Didn’t mean you had to like it, though.

“Let’s go,” Soomi simply suggested. “It’s time for your lesson.”

You rolled eyes. That you couldn’t hold back. “You make me sound like Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”

At least Soomi laughed. “You used to like that show.”

“That’s because I thought once I reached high school, I’d be getting into whacky hijinks with my friends while trying to keep the ‘big secret’. Turns out I was just homeschooled.”

“Homeschooled”. That was the official termed used so the school district wouldn’t get hissy that you weren’t showing up for their classes. Really, you spent your days out in the fields learning magic from the different mothers with the other young witches in the coven, not geometry or chemistry. On days where it was too cold to be outside, you were all stuffed into the house of whichever mother was leading lessons that day. There were times that you missed those days. The days when you were still like everyone else.

“Let’s just go inside,” Soomi urged. “Before Mother Willow gets suspicious.”

“I bet she already is,” you grumbled. While the old woman swore up and down that she wasn’t telepathic, you didn’t believe her. She somehow always knew when you were doing something that you shouldn’t have.

Soomi laughed at your comment before turning to head back to the cottage. You took a step to follow, but that familiar nauseated feeling bubbled in your stomach.

No, no, no, not another one.

The world around you began to spin and you fell to your knees, barely keeping yourself up by the palms of your hands.

“(y/n)!” Soomi ran to you, sliding down her knees as well as she grasped your shoulders. But you were no longer in the present.

The scene that took over your vision was as fuzzy and in coherent as ever. Everything was shifting and static, like an old VHS tape that had been played too many times. But new clues were finally given to you in this latest vision.

Moss covered trees surrounded you and it was night, however there was still plenty of light to see by. Light given by the harsh red moon hanging in the sky. A woman stood facing away from you, platinum hair that looked like starlight cascading down her back. She seemed to be speaking to you, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Her shoulders began to move. She was starting to face you. Before you could fully see her face, however, the vision came to an abrupt end.

“(y/n)! (y/n), can you hear me?” Soomi’s frantic voice came back loud and clear in your ears. You were back.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you reassured her in a croaked voice. You hated the powerlessness and lack of control you had over the visions. They would come at any time, no warning or preparation beyond the sickened feeling in your stomach. But even that was hardly enough to make you ready for whatever was being forced through your head.

“Did you see anything new?” she whispered.

You wanted scoff. Even though you knew your health was really her first priority when these waves hit and consumed you, but the small part of her couldn’t help be concerned for the wolves these visions revolved around. You’d hoped that someday she’d get passed whatever infatuation she had with that Junmyeon guy. Sure, he was smart and attractively cute, but he had a mate. And there were plenty of guys scrambling to get in line for a date with her.

You’d thought that she was getting over it. The visions you’d received in the beginning hadn’t been clear or involved the wolves at all. They just gave you a feeling that something powerful was coming. Soomi had been the one who insisted on warning the pack that lived near here as she felt they too would be in danger. She’d received quite the scolding for that. Until you had that vision.

It was the only that hadn’t made you feel like you were going to throw up. It had been somewhat peaceful just before it came on that you thought maybe you’d simply fallen asleep or started daydreaming aimlessly. This one had come in clearer than the others, also adding to your confusion. Only the dizziness told you that it wasn’t something your mind had come up with. 

A white wolf was limping towards you, blood matting in the fur on its front left leg, hiding the source wound. Amber eyes that seemed almost human shined at you. The animal was too big to be a normal, wild creature of the forest. It was a werewolf.

When he was right in front of you, he collapse, his muzzle landing softly in your lap as you sat on your knees. You reached out to comfort him, but the vision was over before you could confirm that the snow fur was as soft as it seemed. 

Soomi was the first one you told and she confirmed that it had to be another premonition. Immediately, she called Junmyeon to tell him, but you were confused as you overheard the conversation. She didn’t go into detail, simply saying that you had now seen an injured wolf and this “coming evil” would affect everyone after all.

“Yeah,” you finally answered her with a nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Come on.” Sommi helped you to your feet and started walking you towards the house. “You can tell Mother Willow and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

You didn’t reply, just letting her lead you through the trees until the little house came back into view. She helped you through the back door and sat you down at the kitchen table before going to fetch Mother Willow. The wood surface was covered in specs of dried herbs, drops of oil, and different stone bowls used for mixing the ingredients to whatever concoction the old lady was inventing next. It was the main reason you never ate at the table. You wished that she’d make something that would stop the visions or at least make them a bit more bearable to handle, but she said it was simply “meant to be”.

“Tell me what you saw, dear.”

You jumped just as the two older witches came back into the kitchen.

Mother Willow, with her wild gray hair just as chaotic as ever, sat across from you, sliding a cup of tea over to your side of the table. You breathed in the steam given off from the caramel colored liquid and instantly felt more energized and recovered. Herbal magic. Her specialty. And soon to be yours.

“What did you see, child?” she asked after you’d taken a sip.

Pulling your face into a frown, you closed your eyes and thought back to what you’d seen. “I was in the forest. It was dark. Nighttime. The blood moon was high in the sky. There was a woman with white hair. I couldn’t see her face. But she was just standing there, staring at the moon.”

“That was all?” Mother Willow asked when you became silent. You nodded, opening your eyes. Exhaling, she turned to Soomi. “The blood moon is only a month away. Whoever this woman is, she must be behind whatever is coming. I’m sure of it. She is not to be underestimated.”

“Do you know who she might be?” you asked cautiously. Mother Willow was like an old leather-bound history book hidden in the forbidden part of the great library; full of secrets and long forgotten tales. How she came across the things she knew, you weren’t sure. You were always too afraid to ask.

Mother Willow shook her head. “There are dozens of possibilities, each more worrisome than the last.”

Concern and fear decorated Soomi’s features. “What should we do, Mother?”  

“Go to the boys,” was her answer. “They should be prepared to help fight whatever this is. According to (y/n)’s visions, they’ll be involved one way or another. It’s best they have every detail that we have as soon as (y/n) has another vision. And maybe they’ll have knowledge that we don’t possess.”

“What could they possibly know that we don’t?” you questioned. They were simply wolves that went on with their lives. The only time they ever got involved was when they were directly threatened, like when the small coven that lived within the city limits had tried to kill one of their mates. Idiots.

“They have their own histories they carry with them,” Mother Willow explained. “They have enemies that we might not know about.”

“If they haven’t thought of it by now, I hardly doubt it’s suddenly going to dawn on them,” you argued.

It’d been over two years since you first started getting the visions. At first, you would go months without receiving another one. Lately, though, they were hitting you more often. Mostly just the same blurred trees, indistinguishable babble, and occasional appearance by the white wolf, save for today’s adventure. Maybe you were still just a little bitter about that. Bitter that you were the one who had to deal with this. Why couldn’t it have been one of the wolves that got the visions instead?

Oh, right. They weren’t that special.

Mother Willow looked up to her ceiling, exasperating by your constant fight back. “Your visions involve them. It is only right that we include them. I can’t see the future, but they will be the back bone of the fight. I can feel it.”

“I’ll let Junmyeon know we’re coming.” Soomi left the kitchen, disappearing through the living room and down the hall, where your bedrooms were housed. You still felt guilty whenever you thought about how Soomi had given up her travels to come back here and train you. Now she was stuck here, making sure that you stayed out of trouble and made it through your lessons. Not to mention being the constant connection between the coven and the wolf pack. 

“You were using your powers again, weren’t you?” Mother Willow inquired after a minute or so of silence.

You tried to keep your face composed. “Why do say that?”

Like she’d ever fall for that. “Soomi’s hair was dry when she went to go look for you.”

You cringed. “That was an accident.”

“It always is,” she mused. Standing up, Mother Willow walked over to you and patted your head. “You know you have to be careful. If you dive too deeply, you might never make it back to the surface.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you mumbled, looking away from her as you crossed your arms over your chest. If you were given these powers, why couldn’t you use them?

“Most days, no it wouldn’t be, but you know what it can do. What it’s done.”

“Fine!” You jumped up from the chair. “I’ll just tie my hands behind my back for the rest of life and be done with it!”

“(y/n)-”

“I can’t talk,” you snapped. “I have to pack.” You stormed down the hall towards your room. Just before you slammed your door, you made brief eye contact with Soomi from her room across the way. She was still on the phone, so you cut off the connection and shut your door, hard and loud before collapsing on your bed.

Why did it always have to be you?

**

“Has anyone seen my statistics textbook?”

“Oh, man, who ate the last of the waffles?”

“Okay, who took my black shirt?”

“I’m leaving now, if anyone doesn’t want to drive themselves, you better come now!”

“Don’t leave without me!”

“You can’t leave without telling Mei bye! Do you want to make her cry?”

Sehun smiled to himself as he stared up at the ceiling, hands behind his head for an extra pillow. While the rest of the house was up and getting ready for the day, he’d stayed back in his room, just listening to the chaos that was a daily occurrence around here.

Unlike the others, Sehun didn’t have anywhere to be. After graduation, he wasn’t sure what to do. A few days a week he helped Kris out at the shop, but for the rest of the time, he mostly just hung around the farmhouse or wandered around town.

Gone were the days where he could count on his brothers to keep him company or to cure his boredom. All of them had mates that needed attention and love and he was still the odd man out. Not that he resented any of the mates; it wasn’t their fault, they didn’t choose it. Mostly. No, he wasn’t resentful. Just… bored. But he was content with that boredom. He’d rather be in this overcrowded, chaotic house than anywhere else.

Deciding it was time to venture downstairs, Sehun peeled himself out of his sheets and shuffled over to the closet. 

Some of Tao’s clothes were shoved over to Sehun’s side of the small space. The evil idea of wearing one of Tao’s precious shirts crossed his mind, but decided the whining the older wolf would give wasn’t worth it. Especially since Lottie was able to smother the fits fairly quickly. It just wasn’t as entertaining as it used to be.

Pulling one of his own shirt off the hanger, Sehun juggled pulling it over his head as he left the room. He made a quick stop by the bathroom, brushing his teeth and waking himself up with a splash of water to the face. In the mirror, he could see his dark roots peeking of from the sandy blonde ends. Running his fingers through the messy hair, he mused over the idea of a change. He smirked to himself. What a nice way to shock everyone around here. It was an easy decision to make, but not today. He’d give it a bit before really deciding on what to do.

Things had quieted down significantly as he descended the stairs after leaving the bathroom. Only a few mates and their wolves were scattered around the kitchen. Everyone else had already headed into town.

“Good morning, Sehun,” Evie waved from the breakfast booth as she sat next to Mei, watching to make sure the little rascal didn’t make too much of a mess since she liked doing it on her own now.

“Morning,” he mumbled back as he made his way to the fridge. Not really hungry, he snatched a yogurt from the top shelf and let the door close itself shut.

“Any plans today?” Jongdae asked as he stood from the kitchen table.

Sehun shrugged. “No, not really.” He was about to ask Jongdae if he wanted to find something to do with him, but then he remembered it was Wednesday. Jongdae and Jiyoung had a standing date at the old Orpheum theatre every Wednesday to see whatever old flick was being played that day. Although, Sehun wasn’t sure a lot of “watching” was being done. “I’ll find something, though. Maybe bug Junmyeon during his office hours.”

Jongdae laughed. “That’s right. Poor guy needs some company with Kita out on that internship dig.”

“She comes back next week, doesn’t she?” Lanie asked.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t stop Junmyeon from panicking every five seconds,” Chanyeol chuckled as he threw an arm around Lanie’s shoulders.

His mate rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing.”

Sehun snickered, but kept his mouth shut. He liked having the girls around. They were quick witted and could sometimes come up with better jokes and comebacks than he was able to.

Finishing off the yogurt, Sehun threw it in the trash and headed for the back door.

“Where are you going?” Evie asked.

Sehun shrugged. “For a run, I guess.”

He was out the door before anyone could respond. Because while he liked having everyone around he was sick of the stare. The “I wish he wasn’t alone” stare. The sympathetic stare. He wished they would stop, but he knew they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t get that he really didn’t care. He wasn’t pining for this mystery mate that had eluded him. If she showed up, great. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t care. He was purely neutral on the whole idea. Besides, he kind of liked things the way they were. Why did they need to change now?

[mojo-bro-tho]

Hey so I blacked out and wrote a snippet for that Pretty Woman Emmrook AU idea I was talking about-

Idk why anyone lets me near a key board.

Potential title: Blue Tongue

Warnings: Nothing really, just a bit suggestive (a full fic of this would be very explicit but I’m running on fumes for a snippet lol)

Enjoy below the cut if you’d like!

A knock at the door heralded the millisecond that Emmrich Volkarin realized he was irrevocably fucked. This was a terrible idea. How did he let Johanna goad him into this? His heart hammered in his chest, spilling out the ribcage. He couldn’t go through with this. This was entirely ridiculous at best and incredibly cruel at worst. He would walk to the door, address the surely lovely woman that waited outside and tell her that he had no need for her services. Yes, that would be for the best.

Emmrich was across the hotel room’s living space in a few anxious strides and soon found himself before the all white threshold of certain self destruction. The lock was undone with the speed at which one might rip a bandage. His hand reached for the handle, holding it steady and taking a massive breath through the nose before swiftly tugging the door open.

Behind it stood a young woman. Terra-cotta skin that glowed an illustrious pink on her bare shoulders with flecks of glitter scattered across what could be seen of her arms and collarbones. A strong jawline, a shapely nose that dipped low into a pleasant curve, high cheekbones. Lavender irises with unripened strawberries encroaching on the pupils framed by fluttering lashes and pointed liner. Her hair was shorter, cut just below the jaw in a rich black shade that admittedly appeared to be temptingly satiny. Between her full lips sat a thin, white stick that she pulled away with a dramatic pop to reveal a well nursed electric blue candy.

The woman’s inquisitive gaze searched him as well. The coat she wore gathered at her elbows shifted as her other arm dropped from its spot around her ribs. A… tight black dress was revealed to him in the process. It was knee length, nothing particularly revealing in terms of skin aside from the aforementioned shoulders and enough of a glimpse onto her chest that the smallest spill of cleavage made his eyes snap back up to her face. A cheeky smile danced across one side of her mouth.

“My, my. I wasn’t expecting someone like you.” She stated simply, bring the sweet dangling hand to his vest before allowing herself inside.

It was as if his body turned to jello, his bones reducing to collagen in the wake of her determined strut past his temporary doorway. A heeled shoe dexterously knocked the door back closed. Emmrich heard it lock as her free hand disappeared behind her long leather coat. She leaned in close, and Emmrich was caught on the scent of artificial fruit, sugar, and something that reminded him of being in a forest. Her glossy lips inched towards the candy that she pointed towards her teeth, tongue peaking out in a matching shade of blue and curling over what was left of the sphere.

“P-pardon me, but I fear there has been… some sort of mistake.” He stuttered, breath hitching as she licked again. A half giggle got caught on the sticky surface of the sweet.

“Oh? So, you aren’t a ‘Professor E.V.’ with an executive suite, rented out by my employer, in The Lighthouse? Because, if that’s true, Mister… I’m afraid the front desk gave you the wrong key.” Her voice came out in a purr.

Maker, she was better at this than he figured she would be. She examined him closely, making Emmrich feel more like prey than person. The candy stick was caught between her teeth for a moment while her fingers grazed up his chest, plucking at the chain of his pocket watch.

“Well, that is me, yes. But you see-”

“In that case, Professor, you should be more careful about the titles you share to services like ours.” The sucker pulled away from her lips again and hovered dangerously close to his own as her fingers went up to glide across the line of his jaw. “I’m sure you worked very hard for a position like that. But you have to be cautious. You’re lucky we’re so nice, with that much info we might be able to find your… personal affairs.”

“Personal affairs?” He asked. Her eyes flicked down to both his wrists.

“A lot of jewelry you got, a few rings too. Just saying.” When she looked back up at his face, she held a deceptively innocent expression.

Oh?

Oh.

“I’m not married!” He clarified, though he wasn’t sure why he felt such an intense need to. Her brow furrowed in a playful sort of empathy he was unfamiliar with.

“Aw. That’s a shame.” Was she… disappointed he wasn’t married? Emmrich felt very confused. “Well, more of you for me then. I like the nervous ones. Usually more interesting.” She teased.

“My dear, I’m afraid you are mistaken. I’m not nervous.” Emmrich attempted to correct, as well as attempted to move her hand away but she hooked him by the collar.

“You seem at least a little nervous, sir. More than a little. A pretty girl shows up your door that you paid good money for and you try to send her away? I’m almost hurt.” She pouted.

His hands surged up, one catching on the corner that would lead them fully into the sitting area and the other going flat against the wall. She went still in response, though their eye contact never broke. In the brief moment of silence that followed his own surprise, he couldn’t but be somewhat mesmerized. Emmrich wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to look like. He was no stranger to beautiful women, nor men or anyone else that caught his fancy, but she was something else. Her visage made her appear more like a statue at times. A soft, tantalizingly warm statue. And he had to be honest with himself, the forwardness that came with her profession did strike something very unexpected in him. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

“Forgive me, I did not intend to cause offense., Miss…?” Another short laugh softened into his shirt.

“You can call me Rook.” She grinned.

“Rook?” He asked, she hummed affirmatively. “Like the chess piece?”

“Something like that.”

[aristocratic-otter]

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I'm going to manage posting tonight!

Also thanks to @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @artsyunderstudy, @iamamythologicalcreature, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather, @nightimedreamersghost, @ileadacharmedlife, @prettygoododds, and @j-nipper-95 for the tags over the last two weeks.

On to the snips!

From The Heart in The Well, my CORB:

Whoever (or whatever) these creatures are, they’re marching through the Wavering Wood bare footed. 

That’s not unusual. All manner of monsters and fae folk travel these woods. Once I ran across an entire warren of lemming gnomes migrating in search of a cliff to jump off of (I didn’t help them) (I believe in being of service to folk, but helping an entire village off themselves is above and beyond what I’m willing to do). 

What was unusual was the carefully folded note, left in a beam of sunlight on a tree stump in the centre of the clearing. 

A paper folded into the shape of a heart. 

From Saving Simon Snow

 I remember smelling magic from Simon before he passed out: smoke and fire and cedar wood. 

Simon’s magic, back when he had some, did smell like smoke and fire. But it was the acrid smell of smoke from an electrical fire, or the sharpness of green wood burning. This smelled like a full bodied forest fire, rich and smoky and faintly sulphurous. 

It smelled like my magic. 

From Snow Fox, my COTTA

The moment I enter my bedroom, I know I’m not alone. 

It’s not just the flutter of white muslin curtains over a window that was closed when I went downstairs this morning. Nor even the soft susurration of breath from a second pair of lungs. 

I don’t even notice those things. 

No, I know I’m not alone because the moment I step into my room, the scent of magnolia blossoms envelops my senses and every muscle in my body relaxes. My eyes drift shut and my lips tilt up. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children:

So I know we’re far to young to take care of ourselves. If I were a few years older, I’d probably strike off on my own, because living with Davy is nearly unbearable. I’d try to convince Simon to come with me, but I think I’d go, even if he refused. 

But I’m not a few years older. I’m twelve, and I’m afraid. I don’t know if Simon or I could survive without an adult to guide us, no matter how vindictive he is. 

As it turns out though, we aren’t given a choice. 

From my fic where Simon is a TikTok Dancer:

Pretty much the moment Shepard saw me on the pier today, he offered me a place on his dance crew. Told me that they had plans to make it big on TikTok. I know TikTok; I’ve been watching dancers on it for the last several weeks. It’s frustrating, because it only shows bits of a dance, but Shepard says that humans have a pitiful attention span these days, and the TikTok vids are long enough to catch their interest without boring them. 

I can’t imagine how anyone could be bored watching people dance, but I’m not human, so I’ll have to take Shepard at his word. 

Tagging for a later day or just saying hello:

@best--dress, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @frjsti, @hushed-chorus, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ic3-que3n, @larkral, @moodandmist, @messofthejess, @martsonmars, @moments-au-crayon22, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @palimpsessed, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[basically-rainbow-aus]

In your REMN AU (cool idea btw, love it), how does the reincarnation work. Does Salem reincarnation and if so who follows her? ALSO Penny, who does she replace and who replaces her?

“Come in.”

The reincarnation happens in very much the same way as it does in canon for Salem, as she is followed by Penny Polendina, a young farmgirl from Mistral.

Penny, as such, is replaced by Oscar. However, Salem’s Inner Circle now consists of Adrian Cotta-Arc (taking the place of Glynda Goodwitch), General Jacques Schnee (taking the place of James Ironwood) and Coco Adel (taking the place of Qrow Branwen).

Thanks for the question! Remember inbox is OPEN for questions about RMEN and the Swap AU!