#i had to draw tandy with a mouth for this never do it

[planefood]

[inkslingerharry]

Yellow Days

Harry needs to touch up his tiger thigh tattoo, and he’s recommended to Y/N, a tattoo artist who just started up her own tattoo shop. Harry is nearly unable to hold himself together during consultation and while Y/N touches up his tattoo. After all, Y/N is an attractive, witty, and fiery woman who also happens to own a Britney Spears shirt.

thank you to @for-fucks-sake-h @yes-daddy-i-willl and @tandy-mikaelson for being beta readers, y’all are the best and mean so so much to me, thank you for doing this.

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**warning: there are mentions of mature content, blood, and tattoos/needles

here’s nearly 9k of sexual tension!

“Just a touch up?” She asks, slipping her glasses from her face to her hair, pushing back a few stray strands, looking across her desk that’s currently littered with papers, sketches, folders, the sort.

Harry nods, lightly tapping his knuckles against his knee, trying to maintain eye contact as best he could.

A friend had recommended Harry visit Y/N’s shop after he mentioned how faded his tiger tattoo had gotten. He played back the memory, nervous as he remembered how his friend had disclosed that the artist was fairly new, just opened up her own shop. He was surprised when he walked through the doors, taking off his sunglasses and looking around the establishment; it wasn’t like Harry to check out such a new artist. But he wanted the tattoo done. Plus, he figured, it would be cheaper.

He didn’t really have an idea of who Y/N was, other than looking through her work on Instagram and her portfolio on her website. She was a damn good artist for being so new to the game. After making a consulting appointment with a woman behind a tiny desk near the front, Harry was ready to see Y/N for himself. He had heard amazing remarks from his friend and this new woman, who had only been working for Y/N for five months.

“Do you mind if I ask why the original artist can’t do it?” Y/N questions, leaning forward and resting her arms on her desk over a red folder.

Despite being a tattoo artist, her arms were bare. Harry could spot a tiny line of ink on the inside of her arm, just above the crook of her elbow. The rest was hidden by the sleeve of her maroon button up. He wondered what else she was hiding under her clothes, where the rest of her tattoos were. Every other person he’s been with was covered in ink, yet the woman in front of him looked like an empty canvas.

As Harry glanced back up to meet her eyes, he’s taken aback. She never broke eye contact with him unless necessary, and when she was looking at him, she seemed… bored, unconcerned, restless. It was like she had better things to do.

“He’s been really busy lately. His schedule has been so full of appointments that he doesn’t time time for me,” Harry responded, bringing his hand up and scratching at the end of his nose twice, a habit he developed when he was nervous.

Y/N nodded, reaching forward, her eyes finally leaving Harry’s as she moved a few papers haphazardly. One paper fell to the floor in front of Harry, landing at his feet after fluttering back and forth a few times.

He quickly picked it up without thinking, leaning and bending forward to grasp the edge of it. When he emerged above the desk again, Y/N was looking at him, but not his eyes this time. When she saw him scan her face briefly, her eyes slightly widened and she took the paper that was being offered to her. She busied herself right away.

“Did you draw that?” Harry motioned towards the sketch he had just picked up, which was already thrown onto the desk in a disorganized manner.

“Yeah,” she answered, scattering a few more papers before finding what she was looking for: a label maker.

“It’s beautiful. What kind of flower is it?” Harry asked, hoping he wasn’t stepping over an imaginary boundary.

“A peony,” Y/N said, inclining herself forward so Harry could take the label maker from her hand. “Just type out your name.”

It was hard to read her. He wanted to find out more about her, see more of her art, know why she was a bit harsh on the outside. Harry could never really read her face which was different for him. Everyone seemed to be an open book except her.

“What if I misspell it?”

“Then I guess I’ll refer to you as Hatty Styles then,” she quipped, not wasting a breath.

He gave a quick laugh, looking down to read the letters on the tiny keyboard. He liked how quick she was, how it seemed like her humor left no survivors. She had wit, and Harry admired that.

“Alright,” he whispered loudly, handing the label maker back over the desk to her. She examined it in seconds before pressing a button and setting it to the side. The little machine started whirring.

“Have a preference in color?” She asked, scooting her chair back and opening a drawer in her filing cabinet.

“What?”

“Folder color,” she answered simply, thumbing over a few colors. “Purple, red, green, blue, black, or yellow?”

Harry shook his head, finding the entire scenario a little disorienting. “Yellow, I guess.”

“Last yellow one,” she commented, bringing herself forward again.

“I’m honored,” Harry joked, placing his hand over his chest dramatically. He was rewarded with the tiniest ghost of a smile from Y/N. His heart and pride soared.

Y/N picked up the label maker and ripped off the product, tearing apart the two pieces of paper so one was a sticker with Harry’s name on it. She carefully stuck it to the yellow folder in front of her, making sure it was fairly centered and even.

“So, I have to ask you about your medical history, just to be sure. Do you have diabetes, any allergies, on any blood thinners?”

Harry shook his head to all of them. “Great. Have you tested positive for HIV or hepatitis?”

Again, Harry shook his head.

“Okay, now I’d like to take pictures of your current tattoo so I can figure out what needs to be touched up and what still looks good. You did sign the papers in the front, right? With Fumiko, the lady at the front desk?”

Harry nodded, watching how Y/N reached for one of several cameras resting on a shelf. She gave a hum of approval before standing and strolling around her desk, stopping right in front of Harry.

“Oh, right,” Harry coughed, pulling up his shorts to showcase his faded tattoo. It looked rough.

Y/N snapped a few pictures, some with flash and some without. Some zoomed in, some zoomed out. After about four more pictures were taken, Y/N set her camera on her desk, still looking intently at Harry’s tattoo.

She reached forward, her fingers a few inches away before she glanced up at him. “Is this okay?”

Harry only nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Y/N slipped on her glasses before placing her hand on Harry’s thigh. She moved the skin around a bit, looking at it from different angles. She was careful with Harry’s thigh, making sure she was professional and pulling the skin just enough so she could take her notes.

“Not really my style, but it’s not bad,” she muttered, giving just enough praise to make Harry happy.

Her hands were warmer than he had thought they would be. Her nails were neat, not manicured, but she took care of them. Harry thought he could see the faintest stain of nail polish, but he wasn’t sure.

Y/N stopped, allowing her fingertip to lightly trace around the tattoo. The motion was different than before; it was soft and tender, almost as if she didn’t need to do what she was doing, but she wanted to. She glanced up at Harry, meeting his eyes with her hand still on him. After a few seconds of silence, Y/N nodded and stepped away, back to her chair around her desk. She huffed as she tried to sort a few papers.

Harry swallowed loudly, trying to hide the blush rising on his cheeks.

“You didn’t want anything added to it? No colors, no new shapes, just a touch up?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed.

“I think I have everything,” she said, picking up a notepad and jotting down a few notes, the cap of her pen in her mouth. “We have your contact information, right?”

“Yes,” Harry repeated, pulling his shorts back down his leg, covering his thigh. Just as he was about to stand, the girl from the front desk entered Y/N’s office. Harry watched as Y/N’s shoulders deflated.

“Y/N! You wouldn’t believe it. Some guy came in and asked for a drop in and when I said-“

“Fumi, I’m consulting right now,” Y/N grated, her eyes already losing a bit of color.

Fumiko shrugged, walking in further. “Your desk is so messy,” she commented, picking up a few papers.

“I’m busy.”

Fumiko laughed, her black hair bouncing with her shoulders. She made a few more remarks, gaining a few laughs from Harry and a couple glares from Y/N.

“So, Harry Styles,” Fumiko read off of the new folder, “why come into Y/N’s shop?”

Harry was a little taken back by the forward question, but he saw Y/N’s grumpy face turn to one of curiosity.

“I need a touch up done,” he simply answered. Y/N’s face didn’t change except for her lips puckering a bit as she looked away.

“You could’ve gone anywhere for a touch up, so why here? Aren’t you a little nervous about being Y/N’s client?”

Harry shrugged, becoming a little uncomfortable under the investigation. “I mean, sure, I was a little hesitant because she, Y/N, is young and a bit new to the game, but she was recommended.”

Fumiko nodded, leaning her body against Y/N’s desk. “That’s what I’ve been saying!” She turned to Y/N. “You need to find people who support you. Be sure to find at least one person who understands and supports you… a spouse!”

Y/N shot up from her chair, her eyebrows now furrowed and her lips in a straight line. “I’ll escort you out,” she snapped, not bothering to reach for a few slips of paper that fell to the ground.

Harry quickly stood, shaking Fumiko’s hand and following Y/N to the front of the shop. He noticed how briskly she walked, her shoulders a bit tight and her legs not taking full strides. She was also at least half a foot shorter than he was, but he had a feeling she could fuck a person up if she wanted to.

“Sorry about Fumi’s unprofessionalism. I’ll call you, probably tomorrow, being as it’s just a touch up, to schedule your appointment. Make sure to have your calendar ready,” Y/N said over her shoulder as she walked. Once she arrived at the front door, she turned to face Harry.

“Yeah, of course. ‘m looking forward to it. And thank you for meeting me today,” Harry smiled and extended his hand towards her.

Y/N begrudgingly removed her own hand from the front pocket of her trousers, firmly shaking Harry’s hand. She glanced outside, surprised to see that the sun had nearly gone down, covering the parking lot in an orange glow.

“I hope you get home safe,” Harry said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Y/N’s eyes widened before she smirked. “That’s quite ominous of you to say. Is that a threat?”

Harry stopped with his hand on the door handle. Confusion riddled his face before he gave a small chuckle. She had already started turning away from him, throwing up a peace sign.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she finished, twisting away so she was walking down the hallway to her office.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry shouted with a smile, finally feeling like he was reaching her. The last thing he heard was the door to her office shutting.

*********

“Shit,” Harry mumbled to himself, seeing a missed call from Y/N’s shop from over an hour ago. How he had missed it was a mystery, but he was kicking himself. It was already late, so he wondered if calling back would be a good idea. Before he could think too much about it, he tapped on the contact, bringing his phone up to his ear and listening to the ringing.

“Yeah?” Someone answered quickly. Harry could hear tattoo guns in the background.

“Hey, is this Y/N’s shop? I missed a call earlier so-“

“Oh, right, yeah, give me a few seconds,” the person interrupted, placing Harry on hold.

“Hi, this is Y/N,” her voice comes over the phone, expecting an answer. It’s quieter, so Harry assumes she’s in her office.

“Hey, it’s Harry. Sorry I missed your call, I was a bit busy.”

“Ah, Mr. Styles, how are you?”

Harry isn’t sure why his dick twitched in his pants when ‘Mr. Styles’ rolled off of her tongue, but he coughs quickly before answering. “I’ve been good, you?”

“Same old, same old,” she answered as if they haven’t just met for the first time the day before. “So, listen, I’m all booked this week and the next few weeks. I don’t have an opening for quite some time. If that’s a problem, I might be able to move someone back, but it’s unlikely.”

Harry grabs his laptop and flips it open, clicking on the calendar app. “I’m also quite busy. I’m not sure of a time that really works…”

He hears Y/N sigh on the other end. “I am able to keep my shop open for another hour tomorrow night if you can come in late. It would be around ten if you’re on board?”

Harry looked over his calendar, seeing nothing that could run that late. “I feel bad for making you stay open just for me, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. Fumiko gets overtime, and I’ll be here anyway.”

“Well then, if it’s good with you, I’d love to do that.”

“Cool, just want to remind you to eat beforehand, take a painkiller if you need to, but don’t come into my shop drugged up. Sound good?”

Harry nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “Yes, it sounds perfect.”

“Great, come in about fifteen minutes before ten.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” Harry replied giddily before realizing what he said. “Well, I mean-“

“Goodnight, Harry.”

*********

Harry walked into the shop once again, five minutes earlier than Y/N told him. Fumiko was behind the front desk, scrolling on the computer in front of her.

“Hey, Harry! Y/N should be finishing up with a client right now, but she said you can go to her office to wait for her,” Fumiko waved.

“Thank you, Fumiko,” he grinned, walking past her.

“Ah, just call me Fumi,” she shrugged.

Harry nodded before making his way down the short hallway, entering Y/N’s office slowly. She had clearly cleaned, for her desk was rid of most papers. Her certifications were framed on the wall behind her desk, and pictures of friends and family were taped on the wall. He noticed a table had been put up and a record player was on it. Harry slowly walked over to it, trying to read what record was currently sitting in the player.

“I think you should organize your emails, though,” Harry recognized Fumi’s voice.

“I’m busy.”

Harry quickly turned to see Y/N walk through her office doorway, rubbing her hands together. She glanced up, a bit surprised to see Harry in her office.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Styles was here already,” she remarked, not breaking eye contact with Harry. He hoped she didn’t see him swallow hard.

“Oh, sorry about that. Also I’m leaving,” Fumi said.

Y/N finally turned to the girl next to her, a shocked expression on her face. “What? You always take overtime.”

“I have a date tonight. Maybe you should take note and-“

“Bah, leave me be,” Y/N shook her head, waving goodbye to Fumi before making her way to her desk.

Harry couldn’t help but notice how attractive Y/N was. Well, he noticed right away when he met her, but now, he was hoping he could calm down by the time she got to touching up his tattoo.

She was wearing a grey tank top tucked into olive green trousers that fit her nicely. Her pants were rolled up so her ankles and shoes were on full display. A patterned scrunchie was around her wrist and she had three earrings in her right ear and two in her left.

“Okay, I want to make this part quick because it’s boring, but also important so pay attention,” she started. “Go ahead and take a seat,” she motioned to the chair in front of her desk.

Harry sat, watching her pull her hair up into a ponytail. He quickly cleared the thoughts wreaking havoc in his brain as he sat down.

“It’s just safety procedure and aftercare and all that jazz. Here is a folder for some aftercare tips, and I know this is just a touch up and you’ve probably done this before, but it’s procedure. I even printed out an article on how to stop a tattoo from fading, so… you’re welcome.”

“Fuck off,” Harry chuckled, watching her face crack a smile. A few seconds pass before she shakes her head, completely ridding of the smile that was on her face.

“Alright, listen, no swimming. That means lakes, oceans, pools, rivers, hot tubs, bath tubs, whatever. When you shower, make sure it’s more lukewarm and preferably under ten minutes. Only use unscented lotion, and please do not pick at your tattoo. Do not use hand towels or anything harsh to clean your tattoo. Do not rub it, only pat dry.  No sun on your tattoo. If you get a sunburn on your tattoo, it’ll dry out and cause a nasty scab to form which can result in scarring and fading. Got all that?”

Harry nodded his head every few seconds, trying to remember the details of what Y/N said.

“Aye, you didn’t, so I’ve written it all down and more in your folder. Now then, could you please sign this paper here? It’s just so you can’t sue us in case anything goes wrong with your tattoo as I just described how to care for it,” she explained, handing over a contract.

Harry glanced over it briefly before signing. He noticed how small, yet bold, her own signature was on the artist line below his own line. He was just about to hand it back to her before she shook her head.

“Next page,” she pulled a towel from under her desk and dabbed at her forehead, which had a thin layer of sweat forming on it. “There are a few more minor details that you have to sign off on.”

Harry obeyed, flipping the page over and seeing another line for him to fill. Once again, he tried handing it over to Y/N. This time she took it and ripped off the carbon copy for herself, placing his copy in his yellow folder and her own copy in a separate folder.

“Shall we get to it, then?” She sighed and stood. “And sorry for it being so warm in here, the building is so old that we don’t have air conditioning.”

Harry had barely noticed how much sweat he himself had formed. He was sure that the back of his shirt had a mark, but he was hoping it wouldn’t be too noticeable.

“You don’t have air conditioning in a tattoo parlor?” Harry questions, meeting Y/N’s glare.

“I plan on fixing that within the year, not that it matters to you, Mr. Styles."

Harry couldn’t help but snicker at her comment as Y/N lead them down the hallway and into another larger room where the actual work happened. Chairs and trays were a bit scattered, but it was clean and more organized than Y/N’s office for sure.

“Feel free to sit in this chair here,” Y/N patted a chair in front of her, walking away, presumably to gather the ink and other supplies.

Harry just now noticed the faint music drifting throughout the parlor, melancholy and echoing, but still adding character to his surroundings. Just as the song changes, Harry was startled as Y/N walked in, rolling a tray that was hip height next to her. Tiny capsules of ink roll around and he could see a few pairs of latex gloves.

By the time she reached Harry, she was dabbing her towel against her forehead again. “What the fuck is up with this humidity tonight? It’s never like this.”

Harry simply shrugged, not sure how to respond.

“I guess we can get started. Do you need anything, a pillow or something to distract yourself with?” Y/N asked, taking a seat in her chair to his left. Harry shook his head.

Just as Y/N started organizing her tray, she glanced at Harry’s thigh and stopped suddenly. “Your shorts are covering part of your tattoo.”

“Oh, sorry. Should I just take them off…?” Harry suggested, his neck already warm from the heat.

Y/N thought for a second before shrugging. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I personally suggest you do, otherwise you’re going to have to hold them up the entire time I’m tattooing, and I’m not sure how pleasant that’ll be for you.”

“O-okay,” Harry responded, removing himself from his chair and unbuttoning his jean shorts.

“Why you would wear jean shorts to get a tattoo on your thigh is beyond me,” Y/N shrugs, turning away. Harry would’ve been offended had he not seen the smirk on her face.

Y/N gave him the courtesy of looking away, pretending she was arranging her tray, but all she was doing was putting a few ink containers in order. After she saw Harry sit down again, she swiped at her forehead one last time and made sure her glasses were on how she wanted them. Y/N snapped on a pair of latex gloves, still not looking at Harry until he coughed lightly.

“If you need to take a breather, say something. If you need to grab my shoulder or arm, say something beforehand. Do you remember the pain level you had on this one?”

“I remember it being a bit rough, but I should be good now,” Harry boasted. “Is it alright to talk to you as you do this? I know some artists aren’t fond of that but…”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, shrugging. “If you want to.”

After shaving the small part of his leg, she grabbed a tattoo gun, giving Harry one more nod before leaning over and placing one gloved hand flat against his thigh. He instantly stiffened. Y/N looks up.

“You have to relax,” Y/N said softly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry responds, embarrassed with himself. Trying to take some of the attention away from him, he turns to look at her. “Why don’t you have a lot of tattoos?”

Y/N starts up her gun, placing the needle against his thigh. “I prefer to give them. It’s fun tattooing people, not when I’m in the chair.”

“What does your tattoo say?” Harry asks, slowly motioning towards the spot above her elbow. Now that she was in a tank top, it was easier to see.

“It’s the outline of the earth and says ‘I miss the earth so much’,” Y/N responds, leaning back and stretching out her arm for Harry to see. “Elton John,” she shrugs.

“So I take it you like Elton John?”

Y/N doesn’t respond at first, wiping away some blood that rose to the surface. “Nope, never heard of him before I got it.” She looked up to Harry’s incredulous face and gave a full smile. “I’m kidding. My parents played his stuff all the time. I grew up listening to classics and oldies, but Elton John was always a staple in our house.”

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” Harry breathed, giving a small laugh.

There was a short silence as Y/N looked up at him. Her face was so close to his thigh, merely a few inches away. Both of her hands were resting on it, remaining still. Her big, bright eyes gazed up at him, her lashes full. Harry noticed how her lips were parted, and he couldn’t help his mind as it let him know that this would be the exact way she would look if she were on her knees in front of him, her mouth wrapped around him, bobbing her head back and forth.

Y/N instantly went back to work, choosing to position herself so the back of her shoulder faced him instead. He brought his hand up to his face, shielding his eyes in embarrassment. He gulped, feeling his heart beat in his chest. Had it not been for the tattoo gun, he was sure that she would’ve heard it.

It didn’t help that he could feel her tits against his outer thigh. She was fully pressed against him, making sure to get as close to her work as possible. Harry could practically feel her breathing.

“What does this tattoo mean to you?” She asked, surprising Harry.

“Um,” he paused, “tigers are known for being regal, powerful, and strong, you know? I’d like to think I am, too. People have to be careful around them because tigers can be unpredictable. I don’t like being so… I don’t want people to have expectations of me, and even if they do, I want them to be wrong. I guess I just want to be different, I don’t know. And they just look sick as fuck,” he finished.

Y/N smiled at his last sentence, her eyelids settling halfway over her eyes. “They do look sick as fuck.”

There’s another few minutes where nothing is said between them, and Harry is content with that. The pain really wasn’t bad. He could’ve fallen asleep with enough time, but Y/N’s hands were a bit distracting for him to do that. Eventually, he decided on watching Y/N work.

She really knew what she was doing. Harry was mesmerized at how close Y/N’s own strokes matched those of the original artist. She was really trying to make it seem like Harry wasn’t getting a touch up, as if he’s had this tattoo for years without worry of it fading.

“I’m going to move a bit further up your thigh,” she mutters, scooting herself a tiny bit closer to Harry. Her hands followed, going a bit further up.

Harry raised his right leg, bending it at the knee and mouthing ‘fuck’ as he rubs the bottom half of his face with his hand. When the needle was placed back onto his skin, he scrunched up his nose in pain.

“Thought you said you could handle the pain?” Y/N smirked over her shoulder, pausing to gauge how well Harry was doing.

Harry stares at her, a bit in disbelief. “I don’t remember it being this bad, honestly.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m using a different needle than what the original artist used, I assume. This one,” she holds up the still running gun, “is better for shading, which essentially is what this entire tattoo is.”

Harry felt one side of his mouth raise. “Sly minx.”

Y/N winked and gave another laugh before turning away. Harry cursed himself. He was sure Y/N could see the tenting happening in his boxers, especially since he could feel the tightness.

“Could I grab your shoulder?” He asked before realizing the words were leaving his mouth.

Y/N stopped, straightening her back which resulted in a few pops. She turned off her gun and placed it on the tray next to her. “I’ll move around to the other side of you to finish this off so you’re grabbing my left shoulder. If you move suddenly, you’ll pull on my left shoulder instead of my right, so there’s a less likely chance you’ll mess up your tattoo. But first, let’s take a break.”

Harry sat forward, instantly going to look at how fresh his tattoo was looking. “Wow, this looks great so far. I can really tell a difference.”

Y/N only hums while removing her gloves, twisting her back so it gave a few more pops. She leans forward a bit so she can inspect it, probably criticizing her own work on it. “Like I said before, not my style, but it’s not horrible.”

“Says the person with one tattoo,” Harry said, bringing his hand out and flicking her arm.

“Did you just flick me?”

“I… maybe?”

Y/N widened her eyes. “I am never opening my shop past hours again. Hooligans like you think, once ten passes, there are no rules. Besides, who said I only had one tattoo?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t seen anything else on you. And, I hate to be frank, but you are wearing a revealing tank top and I still don’t see anything.”

“Revealing? You’re in your underwear,” Y/N retorts, giving a flick to his knee. Harry beamed, his dimples on full display. “Wait, have you been looking at my boobs?”

Harry lost his grin then, his ears and neck darkening. “No! I haven’t, I… I just happened to notice that it’s a tank top and-“

Y/N laughed harder than any other time Harry has seen her laugh. She shook her head a few times. “I don’t give a shit.”

Harry’s heart was still racing as he leaned back, swallowing loudly. “You are seriously going to be the death of me.”

Y/N smiled and stood, pulling her tray and stool behind her and around Harry. Before too long, she was sitting on Harry’s right side and pulling on another pair of gloves.

“Um, I’m going to have to lean over you to reach the tattoo,” Y/N informed Harry, giving him a look to ask if that was alright.

“Okay,” was all he responded with. Y/N stood and leaned herself over Harry’s right thigh so she could reach his left one.

“Go ahead and grab my shoulder, or arm, or whatever,” she said, making sure she was comfortable.

Harry reached forward, deciding to wrap his fingers around her bicep. It was warm and soft, tender yet firm. She clearly had a bit of muscle there, but it wouldn’t be too obvious unless someone were like Harry, hand wrapped around her.

Y/N also noticed how soft Harry’s hands were. Despite being in pain and being offered to basically use her arm as a distraction, he didn’t squeeze too hard. It was as if the simple act of touching another person in such a way was good enough for him.

She gave no warning as she started up her tattoo gun again, picking up where she left off. That was when Harry started squeezing her arm a bit harder, even giving a grunt which Y/N had to quickly ignore or she would’ve gone outside Harry’s original tattoo tracing.

After a few moments of silence, Y/N started blowing upwards, trying to rid of her baby hairs that made themselves present and tickled her forehead. With the humidity and her position of leaning over Harry, her hair wasn’t fully cooperating with her. So, she resorted to stopping for a few seconds to push back some stray hairs only to have to repeat the action every couple of minutes.

“Here,” Harry finally interjected, removing his hand from around her and stretching out his own arm, brushing away some of the hairs behind her ear.

She hesitated to continue, instead looking at Harry in astonishment. “Um, thanks,” she finally said, looking back to her work.

It didn’t feel like too long before Y/N was finally straightening her back, groaning and examining what she had just finished.

“I think… that’s it. We’re done. Oh, wait!” She exclaimed, quickly leaning down again. Without thinking, she repositioned herself, accidentally placing her arm a little higher than she meant.

“Y/N!” Harry shot up, squeezing her arm with more strength than he had planned. Even his breathing was a bit irregular.

Y/N was shocked, unmoving. She’s never had a client yell her name before, especially when the pain level wasn’t as low as this. However, she’s also never placed her arm on her client’s semi-hard dick before either.

“Shit, I am so sorry. I, um, are you okay? Did I hurt you? God, I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention,” she scrambled for words, shutting off the tattoo gun and quickly removing her gloves.

Harry sat back, his body hitting the chair behind him with a loud thump. He looked up to the ceiling, not daring to look at the woman in front of him. “For the love of Christ, please, let’s just move past this.”

Y/N was still staring at him, a bit wary of her surroundings. She wasn’t trained on how to talk to a client after she touched their dick, so she was unsure of how to continue.

“Can I just… finish this little bit? It should take less than three minutes,” she mumbled, grabbing for another pair of gloves hesitantly.

Harry only nodded, still admiring the lights on the ceiling. Y/N leaned over him again, much farther down this time, and only her hands were touching his left thigh instead of her entire forearm resting against his right thigh.

“We’re done,” she quietly said, looking at Harry who finally allowed his eyes to fall on hers.

“Great,” he rasped. Y/N watched him for a few seconds before reaching to the ground to pick up Harry’s discarded shorts. She handed them to him before quickly busying herself, somewhat facing away from him.

“I’ll wrap it up in a second,” she said, throwing a few items away. “Take a look at it and make sure you like it.”

Harry did as he was told, bringing his face closer to his thigh. “It seriously does look amazing. You did a great job on it. Thanks for this.”

Y/N shrugged, “I’ll take your thanks in the form of money.”

She wrapped Harry’s fresh tattoo, explaining to him the steps to take during the aftercare. Harry nodded along, noticing how slow and gentle she was with her actions. Once she was finished wrapping him up, she walked to the front of the room, waiting for him.

“I’ll just meet you at the front desk,” she suggested, walking out of the room, leaving Harry by himself.

Once he saw she was gone, Harry sighed to himself, giving his lower half a glare before yanking on his shorts. His thigh stung a bit, which was expected. He hobbled to the front desk, already pulling out his wallet.

“Here,” Harry haphazardly grabbed a few bills and handed them to Y/N. She quickly did the math then furrowed her brows.

“There’s too much here.”

“What about tip?”

“Even with tip, this is quite a lot.”

“Just keep it.”

“Oh… okay,” she responded, surprised. She slipped her glasses off and tucked them into her hair on her head.”Would it be alright if you came in maybe a week from now just so I can check up on it?”

“I thought you were all booked up the next few weeks?”

“I figured you could come in after hours again… unless that’s a problem for you.”

Harry watched her eyes closely. She seemed back to her normal self: bored, weary, indifferent. “Yeah, that definitely works for me.”

After scheduling another smaller appointment, Y/N turned to Harry, “Well, Mr. Styles, just remember to keep those showers to less than ten minutes if you can.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the smirk on her face. She leaned forward, her arms crossed in front of her on the desk, leaving her cleavage out on full display. Harry glanced down, fully aware that Y/N was watching him, but he didn’t care. Based on Y/N’s actions, it’s like she wanted him to look, like she was presenting herself before him. She didn’t move as he gazed at her chest.

“I’ll try,” he quipped back, finally looking up at her and wetting his lips with his tongue. “Get home safe.”

Y/N chuckled as Harry turned away. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

*********

A week had gone by, which meant it was time for Harry to enter Y/N’s shop again. He had been taking care of his tattoo just as she had instructed, careful to be precise and pointed with his aftercare. His tattoo had gone through some of the healing process nicely thanks to him obeying orders.

“Hi, Harry. Y/N said to wait in her office,” Fumi raised to point her thumb behind her towards Y/N’s office.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked, noticing Fumi carrying her purse and the computer at the front desk turned off.

“Yup! Y/N said you’re just here for a check up so I can head home. Have fun!” Fumi waved.

Harry made his way to Y/N’s office, settling himself into his normal spot and facing Y/N’s desk. It seemed that being clean was not her strong point, as papers were scattered across the surface. A small recycling bin was full of crumpled and folded papers.

He knocked his knuckles against the arm rests of the chair, impatiently waiting for Y/N.

Since the last time he had seen Y/N, she’s all he had thought about. When his friend who recommended Y/N asked how his session went, Harry could only give positive feedback. Of course, he left out some details, specifically Y/N accidentally touching his dick and him going home and taking care of himself, watching his fresh tiger tattoo move with each stroke of his hand.

Harry immediately tried thinking of something else, but it was of no use. The feeling of Y/N feeling him up came back, and he was squirming in his chair. He was overwhelmed by her, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

Y/N sure wasn’t helping when she walked into her office, addressing him as Mr. Styles once again.

“How are you doing?” She asked once she shut her office door behind her and settled into the chair behind her desk.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Same old, same old. How has your tattoo been treating you?” She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up and folding them behind her head.

Once again, Harry couldn’t help but notice how captivating Y/N was with her striking features. She wore an old, faded Britney Spears shirt and loose jeans that stopped well above her ankles. Another scrunchie adorned her left wrist.

“Doing what a tattoo should do, I guess. Do you think there’ll be less scabbing being as it was just a touch up?” He questioned, reaching up to scratch his nose twice.

“Should be less scabbing, but I’m not fully sure. It really depends on your body. Plus, touching up years after you originally got it comes into play. Why don’t I take a look at it?” She suggested as she stood up.

Harry nods, standing and unbuttoning his jean shorts for her a second time. Y/N raised her eyebrows with a skeptical glance.

“Jean shorts again? I think you’re doing it on purpose at this point.”

Harry smirked, choosing to say nothing and trying to hide his smug grin with no success. The truth was that he did do it on purpose, wanting to strip down for her if he could.

As he pulled down his shorts, hearing them give a small thump when they hit the ground, he stoically stood before Y/N, hands on his waist.

“I think someone is feeling cocky,” Y/N mutters, walking around the desk in front of Harry.

He grinned, giving a small shrug, “Just be happy that I followed your aftercare directions.”

“I’m not proud of you for doing something you should be doing,” she snapped back, giving Harry a look before kneeling in front of him but not breaking eye contact. Just the sight of her on her knees before him wiped the smirk off of his face. His hands fell from his waist to his sides.

Harry gave a shaky breath as Y/N looked away and at his thigh, lightly moving the skin around it with her hand. She said nothing as she examined it, carefully looking at it from different angles.

“It looks really good, actually. It’s healed pretty fast,” she praised as she stood.

Harry didn’t step back, and neither did she. He licked his lips before smiling.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked.

Y/N gave a short laugh. “I’ll have to charge you for that.”

“Anything I do is money for you, hm?”

“Gotta make a living somehow.”

Harry shook his head, breathing out a laugh. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Y/N brought her hands to her hips, giving a huff. “Yes, you can.”

Harry grinned from ear to ear, finally leaning forward so his lips met hers. He was soft and gentle, testing out the waters to see how comfortable she was. It wasn’t a few seconds later before his hand was on her cheek, trying to bring her as close as possible. Her hand was fisted in his shirt as her chest and stomach were flush against his.

The intensity of the kiss immediately skyrocketed as Harry pushed her back a few feet, stepping out of his shorts as he did so. The back of Y/N’s thighs hit her desk so she took it upon herself to prop herself up on it, her legs widening once she was situated so Harry could move between them.

“Wait, wait,” she rushed, pushing Harry away slightly so she could stand again. Harry watched as she gathered the papers she was just sitting on and placing them to the side.

“We had to stop for that?” Harry snickered, going back to his spot between Y/N’s legs when she hopped onto her desk again.

“People pay good money for custom sketches,” she quipped, out of breath.

“As they should,” Harry answered, cupping Y/N’s cheek. “They’re really fucking good.”

Y/N felt her heart beat faster as Harry complimented her art. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her so she was kissing him again. Their lips moved in sync with each other, not missing a beat.

Harry grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up so it was off of her body. Even though they were separated for a few seconds, they rushed back to each other, Harry’s hand on the back of her neck and Y/N’s hand reaching forward, ghosting over the waistband of his boxers.

Feeling bold, she palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he was already. He quietly moaned, breaking away from Y/N to look down to where she was touching him. Just seeing and feeling how turned on Harry was made Y/N aware of her own wetness between her thighs.

“I want these off of you,” Harry said, sticking his index finger into the waistband of her jeans.

Y/N leaned back slowly, taking her time as she laid her back on her desk. Her face remained calm as she deadpanned, “Then take them off.”

Harry breathed heavily as he unbuttoned her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him remove them. All that she was left in was her bra and underwear.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered to himself as he allowed his hands to roam her thighs. His eyes tried taking all of her in at once, wanting to memorize every curve, dimple, hair, and mark on her.

Y/N lifted her legs so they were bent at the knees above her desk. She widened them, causing Harry to look down at where he wanted to be most.

“Christ,” he breathed, lavishing in the view. A dark, wet spot on her underwear nearly made Harry combust right there.

“Is this for me?” He asked, rubbing his right hand on the inside of her thigh, slowly moving it down so it hovered over her heat.

“All for you,” she bit her bottom lip, watching as Harry’s mouth practically watered.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back when she felt Harry start to rub her clit through her underwear. He took his time, wanting to see what she was comfortable with, but also wanting to tease her, wanting to see her squirm underneath him. He circled her clit, looking up as she released a heavy breath.

Harry needed more. He couldn’t keep this up for long. His hand left her as he removed his shirt then reached on either side of her hips, grasping her underwear and pulling the clothing off. Y/N gasped at the action, sitting up on her elbows as she looked at him.

“Condom?” She asked.

Harry nodded, turning away and bending to grab his shorts. He quickly found a condom in his wallet, pulling it out. By the time he turned back to Y/N, she had removed her bra and was massaging her breasts.

Harry was in awe of her. Everything she did seemed to radiate casual power, like she didn’t even have to try.

He tried opening the small package but his hands were shaking from nerves and excitement. Seeing Y/N open before him was nearly too much for him to handle.

“Here,” she said softly, sitting up and holding her hand out. Harry gently placed the condom in her hand as he pulled down his boxers.

Y/N ripped the package open, casually throwing the wrapping to the side. “You ready?” She asked, looking up to Harry.

He simply nodded, watching as she skillfully pulled the condom on him. Feeling her hand wrap around him made his knees weak and his mind blank for a few seconds.

She laughed, watching his eyes flutter open. “You alright?”

He grinned back at her, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah,” he responded, leaning forward and sloppily kissing her.

Y/N grabbed the back of his neck, making sure he followed her as she laid back down. She rested her legs on either side of his hips, feeling his hard length against the inside of her thigh. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down her neck and chest, finally reaching his desired spot. As he wrapped his mouth around a pebbled nipple, he closed his eyes, relishing in the way she moaned and wriggled beneath him.

He moved to the other nipple, proceeding to give the same treatment. Y/N swiped the hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, noticing his gaze already on her. She moaned loudly as he popped off of her, a line of saliva connected from his lips to her nipple.

Harry sat up, swiping his cock through her folds and tapping it against her clit a few times, making her sigh in pleasure. Just as he lined himself at her entrance, he stopped himself, looking at Y/N’s face.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she responded quickly.

“Tell me.”

Harry heard her head thump against the desk lightly. “Fuck, I want it. I want you, I want you inside me right now.”

This was all Harry needed to hear.

“But go slow! You’re… a little on the bigger side,” Y/N quickly added.

Harry smugly grinned, promising that he would go slow. As he slid himself in, both of them moaned. Y/N reached her hand up and above her head, her fingers grasping the edge of her desk. Harry gave a few shaky breaths as he slowly thrusted himself in and out.

“Taking me so well,” Harry whispered as if he were talking to himself. “So tight wrapped around me.”

As he started thrusting faster and harder, Y/N used her free hand to hold her breasts down. She felt so full of him that it was overwhelming in a good way. Each thrust seemed to be harder than the last one, and Y/N definitely wasn’t complaining. She savored how good he felt sliding in and out, seeming to take his time but also in a hurry to make her feel good. Both of them were so focused on what they were doing that their orgasms came faster than anticipated.

“Shit, Harry, I’m… I’m gonna-“ she cut herself off with a moan.

“You gonna come on me? I wanna feel you come on me,” Harry grunted, tipping Y/N over the edge.

She whimpered loudly, a string of curse words leaving her mouth with Harry’s name mixed in a few times. Harry wasn’t far behind, calling out Y/N’s name and feeling himself still inside her, taking note how she pulsed around him.

It took a few seconds for the fog to leave both their brains, for them to notice how crooked Y/N’s desk was. They giggled at themselves, glancing at a few papers on the floor. Harry slowly pulled himself out of Y/N, relishing in the sound she let out.

“Um, I have a private bathroom, just go behind my desk and through that door back there,” Y/N commented, sitting up and covering herself as best as she could.

Harry nodded, picking up his clothing and heading to the bathroom. He cleaned himself off, getting dressed, ready to leave the bathroom. He looked in the mirror quickly, fixing his hair and checking his face for anything.

When he exited the bathroom, Y/N and her clothing were gone. Her desk was still crooked, the papers still on the floor. He carefully picked them up, smiling at a few of the custom drawings. Just as he was about to push the desk back into its original place, Y/N walked through the door, fully dressed and rubbing her hands together and smelling like lemongrass soap. She had also slipped on her glasses while Harry was in the bathroom.

He smiled at her, admiring the post-sex glow that radiated off of her. She didn’t notice his look, instead walking to the desk and chuckling to herself.

“A bit messy, huh?” She finally mentioned, looking up at Harry.

“Yeah, might want to clean this up by the morning,” he joked, earning a look from Y/N with her sticking out her tongue.

Comfortable silence settled over them as they quickly cleaned, throwing papers onto the desk and fixing the position of the desk. Y/N thanked him, looking around to make sure nothing else was destroyed in their lustful path.

“Well, I’m going to close the shop. You sure your tattoo is feeling good?” Y/N asked once again, grabbing her purse.

“I’d like to see you again… if that’s alright with you,” Harry softly said, reaching out and brushing his fingers against her arm. “Not just for a fuck, either. Don’t get me wrong, if it ends up being that, I’d be more than happy; but, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something.”

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds before Harry could see the blush on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’d really like that.”

Harry let out a breath of relief. “Great! Um, I have your shop’s number, but I think this would be easier if I got yours as well.”

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Won’t even go through the extra work for me.”

Harry chuckled, watching as she leaned over her desk to grab a notepad, scribbling down a few digits and ripping it off from the pad and handing it to him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’ll take your thanks in the form of a dinner.”

Harry threw his head back, letting out a brisk laugh and crinkling his eyes. “Sounds like a deal.”

They both walked to the front of the shop, Y/N stopping every so often to make sure lights were off or trays were cleaned off. She seemed content and ushered Harry outside, shutting off the remaining lights and locking the door behind her.

Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N. She had him completely captivated and captured despite him only knowing her for a couple weeks. She caught his eyes and gave him a puzzled look.

“What are you looking at?”

Harry coughed and shook his head, trying to hide his growing smile. “Nothing. I just really want to kiss you again.”

Y/N’s face softened. She licked her lips and shrugged. “Then do it.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice as he leaned closer to her, brushing his lips against hers. It was a feathery kiss, tender and gentle. He wanted to kiss her lips forever. Harry wanted to remember her taste for as long as possible. When he pulled away, Y/N kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, humming.

As she opened her eyes, Harry smiled. “I already can’t wait to see you again.”

Y/N laughed, patting Harry’s arm and turning away. “Goodnight, Harry.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 2

Small World

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader sees a familiar face.

Notes: For reference to setting, see the previous chapter. As for this one, I hope you have patience. Now, Witness kinda took a few chapters to get to the crux, but this one might take a little longer. ;) But I promise, it’s going to be some very fucked up Steve eventually. In advance, I thank everyone for following along and soon I will start adding to other WIPs one Witness is finished (maybe finally start that Medieval AU lol) <3

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

You were annoyed that you had wasted time at that restaurant waiting on yet another unreliable and selfish man. You could’ve used the hour finishing your latest commission but instead you spent your Saturday morning on the project. You usually tried to save that day for yourself. Self-employed, you made it a priority to work at least six days a week. You were paid well enough, quite successful as it was, but you liked the security of having a little extra under your belt. Besides, it always made you anxious to think that you could be actually doing something instead of lazing around on your couch watching Netflix.

Plus, you needed the distraction from your self-pity. The humiliation lingered for a few days after and even your work couldn’t erase it entirely. Why hadn’t he come? Was it an innocent case of forgetfulness? Or maybe he had changed his mind after seeing you. Tandi had exchanged your information via Facebook and he had seen your photo the same as you had his. Perhaps he hadn’t been as pleased at the prospect. Ugh, you didn’t even know him. Just forget it!

It was Wednesday and the disappointment was still a speck at the edge of your mind. It was sunny for once, a light jacket over your blouse and jeans as you basked in the warming spring air. You walked merrily to the park, happy to be outside, refreshed almost. You found a place on one of the bench, the melody of birds and interspersed voices of people filling the flowery air. You pulled your tablet and pen from your leather tote and opened up your program, working on the outline of the geometric logo you had started the night before.

Every now and then you looked up from your work and admired the serenity nestled amidst the chaotic city. You crossed your legs, resting your tablet against your knee and continued to draw, the sunlight hugging you. A blur moved across the top of your vision and paused, looming closer and you slowly looked up. The tablet nearly slid off your knee as you spotted the man approaching you. It couldn’t be.

“Hey, it’s you,” Steve greeted, his perfect smile shining brighter than the sky. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name the other night.”

“Um, Y/N,” You answer, shading your eyes from the sun beaming over his shoulder, “You remember me?”

“A face like yours is easy to remember,” He replied coyly, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Yeah, I uh...know,” You admitted shyly, “Thanks again…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” He waved away the gratuity, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” You shrugged, steadying your tablet across your knee.

“Are you drawing something?” He asked, your tablet half-dimmed as it threatened to lock.

“Yeah. Working actually,” You explained, clicking the sleep button and shifting the screen against your thigh. “I’m a graphic artist.”

“Ah,” He nodded, “Makes sense. It must be fun. Doing something creative like that.”

“It can be,” You answered, “I…” You paused, his eyes never leaving yours. He was so intent on you, as if no one else was in the park. How had he picked you out among the crowd? Half of New York had probably been in his restaurant. You shook away the overly paranoid questions and continued. “Depends on the job, really. I mostly just do corporate logos and designs. Can’t really get paid for what I want to draw.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He stretched his arm over the back of the bench, you almost didn’t notice as it slid behind you. You were sure it was just a casual gesture, a habit he didn’t give much thought to, but it felt entirely too intimate.

“Life, I guess. People, animals, trees. I just like to create scenes, not just...symbols,” You said, nervously twirling the pen between your fingers. “I prefer to paint, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Do have any of them on that thing?” He pointed to the tablet, “Anything you’re willing to show me?” You blinked as his tone caught you off-guard. He was talking about your art and yet it seemed like he meant something more. You could’ve sworn his eyes had strayed from your face for just a second. God, you were crazy. After being stood up and nearly two years by yourself, you were growing delusional.

“I might, I, um...one second,” You unlocked your tablet and saved your work. You opened your gallery and flipped through your files, settling on a quick sketch you had done of a sparrow that had built a nest outside your building. “It’s just a drawing, but, um, here.”

You handed over the tablet and he tilted it so he could see the screen, his brows lifting as his eyes ran over the lines and shadows done in monochrome, splashes of auburn here and there to give a hint of life to the sketch. “Wow, that’s really good.” He looked up, holding the tablet out to you, “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” You looked away shyly, “Really, it’s just a sketch. I’ve seen way better.”

“No, no, what you do is amazing. You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” He smiled as you took the tablet, your fingers brushing his by accident. “You’re you and that makes it more than a sketch. It’s art.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you,” You locked your tablet again and set it on your lap, resting your pen beside it.

“Well,” He slowly pulled his arm out from behind you, his warmth releasing you as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d hate to keep you from you work.” He checked his watch as he spoke, “And I’ve got to get to the restaurant for dinner service.” He looked back to you, his blue eyes searching you, considering you closely as he measured his next words, “You should definitely come back some time. You know, no date required.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” You nodded evasively. You didn’t really want to admit that you couldn’t go back not because you were dateless but because you had bills. “It was, uh, surprising to run into you.”

“You, too,” He grinned, his golden brows twitching, “The special tonight is salmon. You should give it a try….have a good one.”

He turned away, strolling across the park and onto the street. You drew your brows together as you saw a silver car pull up and he got inside. Why would he be walking through the park if he had a town car? You shook your head and readjusted your tablet across your knee. Maybe he had just gotten out to stretch. You doubted he had gone out of his way to bug you.

-------------

You balanced the mugs, careful not to spill any of the foam as you walked between tables and found your seat by the window. Tandi was sat with her phone out, grinning at the screen like an idiot. You set her latte in front of her and cupped your own warm mug as you sat down. She finished typing and relinquished her phone on the table. She looked up at you, starry-eyed over her latest fling. Well, they’d been seeing each other for a couple months so maybe it was getting serious.

“I’m real sorry about Danny,” She said. She had arrived as you were waiting in line, grabbing a seat as you bided your time in the queue. Your mouth twitched and you looked away. The heat still rose in your cheeks whenever you thought of the painful hour spent in the restaurant. It had been more than a week.

“It’s not your fault,” You grumbled, “It was just embarrassing...I can’t believe I sat there that long. It was like everyone was staring at me.”

“I’m sure they weren’t, but it was a dick thing to do. I’ve blocked him on Snap, Facebook, and Twitter.” She smirked, “So yeah, fuck him.”

“Ha, thanks,” You scoffed, raising your mug to sip from it, the foam cooling the espresso. Your eyes wandered out the window as you leaned back in your chair.

“You know, not all guys are like that, Y/N,” She trilled, “Carson’s a nice guy and he has lots of friends.”

“I don’t want to date any of your boyfriend’s bros,” You protested, watching the passerbys through the glass. “Carson’s nice but not my type and I can’t imagine his friends are of a different cut.”

“Well, you should at least consider someone. Anyone!” She said dramatically, but before you could chuckle it caught in your throat. You swore you recognized that blonde head across the street. You couldn’t say for sure as it quickly ducked into the suit shop and you blinked as the mug in your hand wobbled. You steadied your grip and turned back to Tandi. Right, you were going crazy.

“I will. One day. But I’m fine right now. Work’s good and steady and I feel pretty good. I can do what I want when I want...Living with Mike was difficult and I didn’t even realize how much I hated it til he was gone.” You stopped yourself before you could get too emotional. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m working on it, a little at a time.”

“I know…” She reached over and touched the back of your hand, “I just want you to be happy; healthy.”

You smiled. A genuine smile. Not the one you put on for strangers or when you were anxious. A real one and it felt good. You took another gulp and waited for Tandi to begin her usual train of gossip. She always had the messiest stories about her workplace; she was an actor and had garnered many a theatre job, enough at least to keep her studio apartment. Once she began, it was hard to stop her and your latte was drained by the time she finished.

Her phone shook the table. She flipped it over and checked the notification, her face shone. “Carson’s back from his trip,” She almost sang. You stared at her and sighed as her eyes rounded brightly.

“Go on,” You relented, “You’re free to go. I won’t keep you. Just call me when you get a chance...if you get a chance.”

“Thank you,” She stood so quickly she hit the table with her hip. She pulled on her thin trench, pulling taught the belt around her thin waist. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go,” You crossed your arm, “Just let me know you’ve arrived safely. You know I’m paranoid.”

“Sure, sure,” She leaned down to give you half-hug, “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” You patted her lower back in return, “Bye.”

You watched her go, content at least with the hour shared with her. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold because you had. You weren’t bitter but you mulled her words. Just because one jerk had stood you up didn’t mean they all would. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but you’d be ready to start again one day. For now, you wanted to pop into the used bookstore just across the street. You always found something interesting there.

You stepped out into the cool spring afternoon, the evening looming as a hint of rain floated in the air. You ran across the street and hopped up onto the curb, your focus solely on the book shop. You entered with a ring, the small bell above the door announcing your entrance. The storekeeper was sat at a desk stacked with book, the daily newspaper held aloft like a shield. You headed for the back shelves where vintage magazines were kept in old filing crates. You liked to use them for inspiration.

As you picked out decades-old issues, the bell jingled again but you didn’t pay much heed to the arrival of another. You continued to thumb through the magazines until you had half a dozen, content that they would last you a while. You stood and looked along the shelf, walking parallel to it slowly as you read the titles of ancient odes and medieval limericks. You stopped to pull out a collection of Wordsworth, the spine thin and worn, easily falling open in your hand.

“Excuse me,” The voice interrupted you before you could finish reading the title of the first poem. It was oddly familiar. Your lashes fluttered in disbelief, “You dropped…” Steve’s voice died and he chuckled as you turned to him slowly, “You again.”

“Uh-huh,” You mumbled warily. It had been him on the street retreating into the suit shop. That would prove he had been in the area for more than an hour but why? He held no wares from his visit to the tailor’s. Another coincidence? Surely, you weren’t that special.

“As I was saying, you dropped this,” He held up the white pen you used with your tablet. It had likely slipped out as you knelt at the crates.

“Thanks,” You accepted it and tucked it snuggly in the side pocket.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked, nodding at the book in your hand.

“Nothing,” You closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I was just wasting time.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, resting his hand on the shelf as he leaned on it casually. “I just kinda stumbled in. Saw this copy of Dante’s Inferno,” He held up the painted cover which depicted an eerie cave spiralling ever downward, “My mother used to keep a copy but I never read it. Thought maybe I could give it a try.”

“Cool,” You hugged the magazines to you chest. Something about him being there at that exact moment was off. The unease was stronger than it had been at the park; his spontaneous visit had been more believable then. You tried to smile. You were being dumb. And what were you even afraid of? He used to be an Avenger. He was good guy. “I was actually just about to head--”

A clap of thunder shrouded your next words. You looked past the bookshelves as the light rain you had failed to notice through the window began to pour down in sheets. Your distress must have been plain as your lips parted slightly.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, shaking you from your despair. You looked back to him and tried to think of something. Anything.

“I’ll catch a cab,” You shrugged him off, trying to seem unperturbed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t waste your money. You can share my town car. He’s just outside. I’m sure you don’t live too far out of the way.” He smirked, his hand shifting along the shelf as he edged closer. You almost didn’t notice the subtle movement.

“Really, I can’t. You’ve already done enough. I really should, um, go.” You back away only to find the corner at your back.

“I won’t let you say no,” He asserted, “Come on. Just a car ride. That’s it. I mean, do you really wanna stand out in this and hail a cab?”

You stared up at him as you considered the invitation. Why were you so reluctant? He had done nothing to earn your distrust. If anything, he had only done you favours. But why? Oh, shut up brain, he wasn’t Mike. Or Danny. He actually seemed like a decent human being so why were you being so dumb?

“Okay,” You relented, “Sure. Why not.”

****

tags:  @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @iheartsebastianstan

[rose-of-gabriel]

Pause (chapter 2)

Ao3 link

Tyrone has been so focused on getting Tandy to his house that he forgot to actually come up with a plan. His parents are home which would be fine except he’s wearing Billy’s cloak and there’s a bleeding, unconscious girl in his arms. Shit.

He doesn’t stop, knowing all of this will become a hundred times worse if any of the neighbors see him. Once he makes it to the front yard, he wrangles off his cloak and toes it into a bush. It pains him to leave it there, but there’s only so much he’s going to be able to explain away to his parents. It takes some skill to open his front door with Tandy in his arms, but he manages. Without closing it behind him, he speeds into the living room where his mother sits with her back to him.

“Baby what are you doing home?” she says, putting down her book. “I thought you and – oh my God!”

Adina jolts off of the couch but doesn’t approach them. Her mouth and eyes are wide in horror and Ty doesn’t want to know what he looks like.

“Mom, I –”

“Di, what’s going on?” His father says coming out of the kitchen. He freezes. “What the hell?”

“Mom, Dad, I know this looks really bad. This is Tandy. She’s my friend. She was in a fight. She needs help.”

Otis is still sputtering when Adina steels her face into something fierce.

“Set her on the couch, Tyrone. Keep her head elevated. I’ll get towels.”

“I’ll get ice.” His dad says, and they scatter, just like that.

Ty’s stunned for a minute before he comes back to himself and hurries to the couch. He strains to get Tandy in a good position without touching her skin. Now that they’re in better light, he can see how pale she is. The gash along her temple is monstrous and the fact that he can’t do anything about it is killing him. Luckily Adina returns, gingerly easing a towel under Tandy’s head and pressing the other against her cut.

Tyrone shifts awkwardly, knowing he’s in the way but unable to make himself leave. He settles for sitting on the edge of the couch, holding onto Tandy’s elbow while his mother looks her over.

“Oh God,” she says, softer but no less aghast. “How did this happen?”

Ty swallows. What had Tandy said about lies? Something like the best lies have truth in them. He’s stammering for an answer when his father comes back with a pack of ice wrapped in cloth. Adina takes it and replaces the towel against Tandy’s head. She whimpers when it touches her and Ty thinks he may snap in half.

Otis is pacing the length of the living room, his movements jagged and on-edge. “You better start explaining yourself, boy. I thought you were on a date with Evita.”

“I was. Tandy… called me.” That wasn’t a totally lie, was it? His powers always brought him to her when he needed it, whether he understood why or not. Maybe she’d done the same; called him when she needed him the most.  Quickly, he adds, “She was in trouble.”

His father’s eyes turn dark. “What kind of trouble?”

Trying to reveal a major conspiracy that’s responsible for the defamation of her father.

“These guys have been bothering her.” Ty remembers the first night they’d spent in the church, when she’d told him about the man who almost… the thought gets his blood boiling. “I think she went out with one of them and now the prick feels like she owes him.”

There is a grave silence that settles over the room. Otis looks between him and his mother, then sighs heavily.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Ty says immediately, “Dad, I’m fine, really.” When he turns, Adina’s eyes are glimmering and he knows what she’s thinking. “I promise, I’m fine.”

She nods like they’ve come to an understanding and focusses back on Tandy. “This looks bad. We should take her to the hospital.”

“No!” he says, too fast and too loud. His parents flinch. “Sorry, just… you can’t. Tandy…” shit, shit, shit, shit, “Tandy’s afraid of hospitals.”

Nice one, choir boy, Tandy mocks in his head.

His mother raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Baby, she needs a doctor to look at this.”

“Mom, please. She’ll hate me if she wakes up in a hospital room.” Totally true. “Please.”

Adina presses her lips together, studying him carefully. She glances back at Otis whose expression says that it’s her call. Exhaling through her nose, she straightens her spine and sets her shoulders.

“I have a friend. She’s not on call tonight. I’ll see if she can come over.”

0o0o0o0

Tandy isn’t sure how long she’s been wandering around this field. The sun is so bright it’s nearly white and the grass is lusher than she’s ever seen. When she looks up again, there are two chairs sitting at the far end of the field.

As she draws closer she can make out two people, a man and a woman. They don’t react as she stands before them and she knows they can’t see her. Their hands are clasped, their smiles wide and bursting. Tandy feels drawn to the woman in a way she can’t explain.

“Tyrone Johnson.” A voice rings out.

Tandy whips around to see a stage, Tyrone at its far edge, grinning as he walks toward the podium in the center. He’s wearing a cap and gown and his face looks… different. Older, with the barest hint of facial hair lining his jaw. He looks good.

The man at the podium gives him a diploma and shakes his hand. Tandy turns back toward the couple and sees nothing but joy on their faces. The woman lets tears flow freely down her face, pressing a hand to her heart as if this all may become too much. Tandy reaches out to touch her and is overwhelmed by light. She blinks rapidly until everything comes back into focus.

She’s in a room, small but ornately decorated. There’s a floor length mirror in the corner. The older version of Tyrone stands before it in a suit. The woman is beside him, wearing a beautiful dress and that same joyous smile.  

Ty fidgets with his collar. “How do I look, Mom?”

“Like a prince.” Ty rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. She’s a lucky girl.”

“I guess.”

His mother busies herself smoothing an imaginary wrinkle on his jacket. Her expression turns down, briefly.

“Are you happy, baby?” she asks hesitantly.

Ty smiles wider than Tandy’s ever seen him and it gets her heart racing. “Yeah, Mom. I’m really really happy.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “I’m gonna call you twice a week. No, three times!”

She chuckles. “Sure you are.”

“I mean it!”

Their laughter fades as the light takes over again, and Tandy’s left feeling more content than she has in years.

0o0o0o0

Tyrone can hear his mother in the kitchen, trying to convince her friend why she should abandon a romantic evening with her partner to stitch up a random teenager. He tries to focus on that – and on being gentle as he holds the icepack against Tandy’s head – instead of the holes his father is burning into the back of his skull. .

“You know the guy that did this?”

“No.”

“You know any of his buddies?”

“No, Dad.”

“Where’d all of this go down?”

Tyrone sighs, mulling over another lie when Tandy moans and shifts her head. He has to avoid her hand as she blindly reaches out, but he grips her forearm to let her know he’s there.

Her eyes open just a fraction and she croaks, “Ty?”

“Hey.” He says, voice unexpectedly heavy. He clears his throat. “How you feeling?” She lets out a theatrical groan that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s about as good as you look.”

“Asshole.” She mutters and gives him a small, bleary-eyed smile. Her gaze travels lazily around the room until she spots his dad.

“Tandy, this is my dad, Otis Johnson. Dad, this is Tandy Bowen.”

She tucks her chin almost shyly against her chest. “Hi, Mr. Johnson.”

“Miss Tandy.” His father nods, eyes remaining stern. “You scared us quite a bit.”

“Sorry.”

Adina struts back into the room, shutting off the phone with an audible click. “Well, Candice said she’ll do it, but we owe her dinner. Should be here in fifteen.” She blinks at Tandy like she’s just noticed her. “Oh, you’re up. Good, that’s a good sign. I’m Tyrone’s mother, Adina.”

Tandy stares at her for a moment longer than normal and says – a bit awed, “Nice to meet you.”

The Johnsons look at one another, and that good sign from earlier is forgotten.

“You’re going to have a decent bruise,” Otis says. “and that cut’s probably going to need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tandy says quickly and tries to sit up. “Thank you for –”

She sways a bit and Ty catches her shoulders. “Hey, Tan, you’ve got to take it easy.”

“I’m fine, Ty.” She keeps pushing, legs struggling to help her stand. “It’s just a scratch.” But she’s blinking slowly as she says it.

Tyrone opens his mouth to protest, but Adina beats him to it. “Sit down, young lady. You’re not going anywhere until a doctor checks you out.”

Tandy’s expression sobers instantly, her wide eyes locking onto Ty.

“Don’t worry.” Otis chimes in. “Tyrone already told us about your fear of hospitals. We’ve called in a friend to come take a look at you.”

Tyrone tries to communicate psychically, play along. Tandy narrows her eyes at him before turning back to his parents.

“You guys really don’t have to –” but one mom-look from Adina shuts her down, “Thank you.”

Satisfied, Adina says to Otis, “Will you grab some ibuprofen and a glass of water for Tandy, honey?”

“Sure.”

He leaves and Ty takes the opportunity to move fully beside Tandy on the couch. He’s still holding the icepack to her head, keeping his touch as gentle as possible. She gives him an appreciative smile before opening her hand and carefully taking the icepack from him.

“Do you remember what happened, Tandy?” Adina asks, hesitantly.

Ty says quickly, “I told her about those guys that have been bothering you.”

Even with a concussion, Tandy doesn’t miss a beat. “Right, yeah it was pretty scary. This guy’s been bugging me for a while but he’s never followed me before, especially not with all his frat buddies behind him.”

Adina looks at the floor before she can meet Tandy’s eyes. “Did any of them…?”

Ty watches her face closely. It’s a “blink and you miss it” kind of thing. Her expression doesn’t change, and yet he can sense something churning beneath the surface; something vulnerable.

“No, nothing like that, Mrs. Johnson.” She says, voice hollow. “They just roughed me up and left me there. That’s when I called Ty.”

She turns to him and the look in her eyes is so intense Tyrone nearly shrinks away from it. He doesn’t, though, and gives her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Can you identify any of them? You could press charges –”

“They’re rich white boys with mommies and daddies in high places. I don’t see much of a point.”

Otis returns with the medicine and water and they all silently agree to drop it. Instead, Adina tries to lighten the mood. Her smile would probably seem genuine to anyone that didn’t know her, but Ty can tell she’s uncomfortable.

“So, Tandy, do you go to school with Tyrone?”

“No, ma’am. We met through a mutual friend. You know Evita?”

“Fusilier?”

“Yeah, we met at a party at her place.”

Otis interjects. “Why you scared of hospitals?”

Ty feels all of the blood leave his face. “Dad.”

“It’s a legitimate question, son.” He says, even though Adina’s shooting him a disapproving look.

“It’s fine.” Tandy puts her hand on Tyrone’s thigh. They both seem to realize that at the same time and she quickly retracts it. “Um, anyway… my dad had cancer. He passed away when I was nine.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Adina gasps.

“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.” Tandy swallows and looks down at her hands. “He was sick for a really long time. I think I remember him being in the hospital more than I do him being at home. When he died I just… I don’t know, I just couldn’t set foot in another hospital. Not again.”

His dad’s eyes have softened and his mother’s are brimming with tears. Ty just gapes at her. How the hell is she this good at lying?

0o0o0o0

Honestly, Tandy’s a little impressed with Tyrone. The “fear of hospitals” thing is good. By now he’s probably put together her actual reasons for avoiding it: they’d contact her mother, she has zero insurance, and never mind the risk of someone identifying her. No, hospitals aren’t an option.

She’s unsure whether or not it’s lucky that Mrs. Johnson called in her doctor friend. Tandy may not be afraid of hospitals, but doctors still make her uncomfortable. Mom had made her see at least a dozen – just after the ridge explosion but before Roxxon had swooped in and taken everything from them. It was weeks of the same “follow the light” and “how many fingers am I holding up,” just like Dr. Burk is making her do right now.

“Alright, Tandy, your pupils are dilating correctly, which is a good sign. Now I’m going to test your memory.”

What’s the last thing your father said before the crash? How did you escape the car? How did you wind up on that beach?

“Sounds good.” She says hollowly.

“What day is it?”

“Friday.”

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Melissa.”

“Where do you live?”

Where does she live? Which answer is better: an abandoned church or the shit hole her mom calls a house?

“Ridgeway Estates.” She says, thinking of a neighborhood that’s upscale but not too affluent so they won’t get suspicious.

Her answer must take too long, though, because Dr. Burk’s eyebrows scrunch in a worried line. She must have mistook Tandy’s delay as an effect of the concussion. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pair of latex gloves.

“Let me take a look at that cut.”

Tandy tries to stare at the floor as Dr. Burk disinfects the wound, but she can feel Tyrone’s eyes on her. Eventually she caves and looks up. He’s hovering at the other end of the coffee table like he’s judging the doctor’s work. It makes Tandy smile despite herself.

“I never thanked you, Ty.” She says as if they’re the only two people in the room.

Maybe her filters aren’t as strong as they should be, but hey, she is concussed. Ty looks surprised to hear her voice and meets her gaze with wide eyes.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Sorry I ruined date night.”

He shakes his head, just barely, and she can practically hear him drawl I can’t even, with you.

Instead he says, “It’s cool. You got me out of having to finish Death Blade IV.”

“Seriously? You hate horror movies.”

“I don’t hate them, they just aren’t my thing.”

“But being a big ol’ chicken is.”

“Woman, I swear –”

“If I may interrupt.” Dr. Burk says, clearing her throat. “Tandy, I’m going to put some lidocaine on your head to numb it and then apply these butterfly stitches, okay?”

“Definitely okay with the numbing part.” She quips.

As Dr. Burk works, she explains, “The damage is mostly superficial, meaning while the wound was bleeding heavily, it seems that you haven’t done any severe damage. Although I would still recommend an MRI, just to be safe.”

Sure, you paying for one? Tandy thinks bitterly.

Dr. Burk continues, “Whatever got you into this mess – and I told Adina I don’t want to know – you can’t be doing that again. The cut isn’t bad, but a concussion is no joke. You need to rest and take it easy for the next few weeks.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tandy says, and she sees Ty narrow his eyes.

“Someone should definitely observe you through the night just to make sure nothing changes.”

“No problem.”  

With a huff, Dr. Burk gathers her tools back into her bag and stands up. “Adina,” she nods at Mrs. Johnson, “Otis. Always a pleasure. Good to see you again, Tyrone.”

“You too, Doc.” He says, but his eyes stay trained on Tandy. The attention is starting to make her itch.

“Well I’m off to try and salvage date night with my wife. Y’all stay out of trouble.”

“Will do.” Otis says as Adina sees Dr. Burk to the door.

Ty follows them, much to Tandy’s dismay, and she’s left alone in the living room with a very unhappy looking Mr. Johnson.

0o0o0o0

Tyrone can barely wait until the front door is shut before whispering to his mother. “Can Tandy spend the night?”

Adina stares like he’s lost his mind. “What?”

“Her mom is out of town.” He says quickly. These lies are coming faster and faster and he isn’t sure how to feel about that. “You heard Dr. Burk. Someone needs to be watching her and that won’t happen if she goes home by herself.” He can see the reservation in her face when he all but begs, “Mom, please.”

He holds his breath until Adina sighs and walks back into the living room, saving Tandy from what looks like a monstrous stare-down.

“Tandy, we’d like you to spend the night.” She says, all professional.

Ty doesn’t know who looks more shocked: Tandy or his dad.

“Look I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Tandy says, slowly rising from the couch, “but I’m not really comfortable with –”

“I understand that this must seem very sudden, dear, but Tyrone mentioned that your mother is out of town and there will be no one at home to check up on you.”

Tandy shoots him a look of pure murder but Ty takes it in stride. He moves toward the couch, standing as close as he dares.

“Tandy, please?” his voice is painfully honest.

She stares at him for second before averting her eyes, grumbling under her breath, “Fine.”

[kbox-in-the-box]

Austin Kingsley: Star Prodigy — Episode 1, “Saving Alexandria,” Part 6

The bright-eyed newswoman, with the compact camcorder mounted on the shoulder pad of her white blouse, wasn't the only reporter thronging the pair of black-haired, stubble-jowled, surly criminals who were led onto the maglev car, in handcuffs, by the grizzled veteran cop, but her running commentary to her viewers set her apart from the bustling crowd.

“Former youth gang leaders, who graduated to serving as hitmen for alleged mob boss Victor Bishop, the Dark brothers — older brother Gregory Powell Dark, and younger brother Michael Donovan Dark, who cofounded the Dark Knights street gang as teens in the 1970s — could be heading to prison for a permanent stay this time, thanks to a particularly incriminating videotape recovered by Apex City Police Detective Hector Haggerty. This is Tandi Sinclair, with First-Person Shooter News. We're currently broadcasting from the Lehnsherr Elevated Maglev Line, and we'll continue to provide live updates, as the Dark brothers are transported to the Apex City Courthouse.”

Greg Dark stood taller, as his narrowed eyes surveyed the car with quiet, predatory contempt, while Mike Dark's wide eyes flitted from face to face, among the now-nervous commuters, his shoulders hunched over like a jungle cat ready to pounce. Even as Hector Haggerty hung firmly to the chain connecting his two suspects' handcuffs, his other hand struggled to maintain his grip on the slippery transparent plastic evidence bag, containing the Betacam tape, while also manipulating his radio mic.

“Whose bright idea was it to pull Detective Bakshi off this shift?” Haggerty hissed into the receiver. “It's bad enough we're transporting two dangerous subjects out in the open, on the Double-L, but there should be a minimum of two officers on this detail.”

“I know those guys,” Mitzi Klingfeld whispered in excited disbelief to Austin Kingsley, who sat next to her, across the aisle from where the assembled press surrounded the standing Haggerty and the Dark brothers. “I mean, I don't, like, KNOW them, know them, you know? But they liked to stop by Bishop Builders' offices, back when I was temping there as a secretary.”

Austin scanned the details of the scene in rapid succession. Haggerty responded subconsciously to the jostling reporters, with their babbling queries and flashing cameras, by becoming more unguardedly animated (and aggravated) in his radio conversation with headquarters, his grip slackening ever-so-slightly on the chain connecting the Dark brothers' handcuffs.

As they felt that barely perceptible bit of give in their restraints, Mike's eyes met Greg's. Greg never shook his head, and Mike never nodded, but they didn't need to. They were brothers, and while Austin was well aware of how inept he was at reading people, he could still recognize what families could say with certain wordless gestures.

“They're going to try and break free,” Austin told Mitzi, before rushing out of his seat, away from the clustered media.

“What?” Mitzi checked incredulously. “No, that's crazy, they wouldn't …” she trailed off, as Mike's wild eyes locked into an unblinking stare with her own, and he broke into a savage grin. “… Oh, no,” she breathed.

The collected reporters could barely blink before the Dark brothers had pulled themselves loose from Haggerty's grip on their restraints, with Mike retrieving a small and mysterious silvery device from the cuff of his pants leg, and melting the links of his and Greg's handcuffs with it, before Greg slung one arm around Tandi's waist, and fished a hidden razor from the shirt cuff of his other arm, to press against her throat.

“Everybody down on the ground, now!” Mike shouted, pointing the device (apparently a weapon) at Haggerty, whose service pistol was already unholstered and aimed at Mike's head in turn.

“This wasn't part of the plan, Mike,” Greg growled discontentedly, even as he backed his brother's play by holding Tandi hostage, all while she kept filming, her camcorder still mounted relatively steadily on her shoulder, its eyepiece still affixed firmly to her face, as she broadcast what she was seeing live.

“Forget that noise, Greg!” Mike yelled. “I know what our orders were, but the way I figure it, we've got a lot better chance of shooting our way to freedom from a moving train car, through only one cop, than waiting until we're in the city courthouse, surrounded by an entire police department.”

“So who smuggled the contraband to you two dullards?” Haggerty interjected, his aim never wavering.

Greg's lips curled into a rare smile. “You're the detective, Haggerty. You figure it out.”

“Here's what I'm thinking,” Haggerty snarled, as he edged toward the Dark brothers. “I think this is all a load of bull. Oh, sure, the razor blade's real enough, but I'll bet my next paycheck that toy you're waving in my face is some sort of welder's torch, mocked up to look like a Flash Gordon ray-gun.”

“Actually, it appears to be an authentic, albeit crudely constructed, handheld matter-and-energy disruptor,” a professorial voice from behind Haggerty informed him, before Austin Kingsley stepped forward, clad in a skintight black bodysuit, his limbs and torso outlined by electric yellow patterns and symbols, whose flowing neon lines seemed at once ancient and alive. “Then again, it's hardly fair of me to expect Athenæum-grade quality from street-level merchandise.”

“Well, now, I didn't know the circus had come to town,” Mike chuckled, as Haggerty rolled his eyes, and even Greg allowed himself a skeptically squinty-eyed smirk. “So who are you supposed to be, sunshine?”

“The Star Prodigy,” Mitzi blurted out, before Austin could reflexively confess the secret identity that he'd concealed, by creating glowing golden hard-light holographic wraparound sunglasses to obscure his eyes and cheekbones. “I mean, um, I … heard him, you know, call himself … the Star Prodigy.”

“Another vigilante,” Haggerty shook his head wearily, “just like the Zenith Vanisher, a decade ago.”

“Not exactly humble, with a name like that, are you?” Greg quipped casually, his gravely voice almost light-hearted, in spite of the drops of blood his blade had drawn from Tandi's skin.

Austin shrugged and strolled forward, blithely inserting himself between Haggerty and the Dark brothers. “I'm not wrong, though, am I?” he checked, behaving as though he'd been handed the floor during a college debate tournament. “You alluded to a plan. I'm going to guess it was not one of your own devising, or else you wouldn't be so quick to disregard it. And while a closer examination of the disruptor which you're wielding so carelessly reveals that it has a remarkably slipshod assembly, I'm still going to say it would be well out of the reach of whatever meager resources either of you might be able to lay your hands on.”

“You know, maybe you're not a genius, but you've sure got a smart mouth on you, Mister Star Prodigy,” Mike glared at Austin, before turning the disruptor on him instead of Haggerty, “especially considering I'm the one with the death ray that can turn your head into a canoe.”

“Fire it here, and you'll do more damage than that,” Austin warned.

Greg narrowed his flinty eyes even further. “Explain,” he demanded, before a light jab from the tip of his razor drew a gasp from Tandi's throat, “and no funny business.”

“Whoever supplied you with your plan and weaponry wanted you to discharge the disruptor at the courthouse, yes?” Austin reminded the Dark brothers, racing through his exposition. “As soon as you used it to remove your handcuffs, the protective casing started to degrade. Your mistake was, you thought of it as a laser gun. It's a bomb, and according to the plan, you were meant to set it off while surrounded by as many law enforcement agents as possible.”

Greg's once-unyielding hold over Tandi loosened, as the chilling plausibility of Austin's claims settled over him like a shroud. “Mike …”

“He's bluffing, Greg!” Mike bellowed, even as the beads of sweat that sprouted on his brow betrayed his sudden shortfall of confidence. “And I'm gonna prove it, by plastering his smug face all over the side of this train.”

Austin blinked in almost comical astonishment, before rounding on Mike with the closest thing to righteous indignation that Mitzi had yet seen from him. “Are … are you SERIOUS? How has NONE of this sunk in?”

“Yeah, that's a great idea, egghead,” Mike retorted. “Keep calling me stupid, because THAT'S gonna change my mind.”

“I am NOT calling you STUPID!” Austin yelled back, before snorting bitterly, “Although, given the fact that I'm having to stand here and explain to an ostensible adult precisely why it's a bad idea to pull the trigger on a MATTER and ENERGY DISRUPTOR inside of a MAGNETIC LEVITATION train, I don't suppose I can be charged with calling you intellectually GIFTED, either.”

“Hey, hero?” Haggerty gritted his teeth. “Maybe try NOT insulting the guy who's got his finger on the bomb, yeah?”

“I'm sorry, but what exactly do you expect me to do here?” Austin threw up his hands in frustrated futility. “Draw him a DIAGRAM?”

“You don't know WHEN to shut up,” Mike began laughing, even as his body quaked with outrage. “You don't know HOW to shut up …”

“I'm honestly trying NOT to be condescending!” Austin insisted in earnest exasperation. “But I also don't know who to blame more … YOU, or the educational system that clearly FAILED you!”

Just as the Dark brothers had preyed upon Haggerty's momentary distraction, so too did Tandi capitalize on the scene between Mike and Austin to elbow a briefly unwary Greg in the gut, all while keeping her camcorder (still broadcasting live) mounted solidly on her shoulder.

Mike's burst of panic was all it took for him to pull the trigger on the disruptor, which burned his hand as it exploded in slow motion.

“Desperta Ferres!” Austin exclaimed, clapping his hands together in front of him, to generate a sphere of neon yellow energy capable of containing the fluorescent red ball of explosive force blasting forth.

For a few seconds, it almost seemed as if he might succeed in completely muting the blast … until the shockwave literally knocked everyone off their feet, even before the Lehnsherr Elevated (“Double-L”) Maglev Line lurched to a grinding halt.

When the lights in the train car flickered back on, less than a minute later, Haggerty found himself regaining consciousness roughly in time with the rest of the commuters, and sought to take stock of the total damage done. While almost all of the other passengers appeared to be waking up with only minor injuries, both of the Dark brothers were still sprawled out cold on the floor, which Haggerty counted as his first stroke of good luck that day.

As Haggerty clapped his spare set of handcuffs on the Dark brothers' wrists — one bracelet for each brother, with the chain between them passed through the gap of an enclosed loop seat armrest — he heard Tandi slapping the side of her camcorder, as it emitted white noise.

“You've got to be kidding me!” Tandi groused as she peered into the viewfinder, before she spotted that she'd attracted Haggerty's notice. “The best live coverage of my entire broadcast news career, and the electromagnetic pulse must have blanked my tape!”

Haggerty's face fell as he remembered the Betacam tape he'd dropped when he drew his gun, and he scrambled across the floor to recover the evidence bag. “Here,” he handed Tandi the camcorder tape, compatible with her equipment, “play this, please.”

When nothing but static appeared, Haggerty rose slowly from his knees, trembling as he took to his feet, squaring his shoulders as he ascended to his full height, and inhaled deeply, before he screamed and swore and pounded the wall of the train car until he was fairly certain that at least one of the bones in his hand was broken.

“That's obviously bad, then,” Tandi exhaled, as the other passengers still cringed at Haggerty's outburst, “but at the risk of sounding pedantic … HOW bad?”

“Bad enough,” Haggerty shrugged, his demeanor almost as calm as before, all except for his breathing, loud and voluminous, his barrel chest expanding and deflating like the bellows of a furnace. “Our new friendly neighborhood vigilante just erased the best evidence we had against these two walking stains. Even with the stunt they just pulled here, it wouldn't take much for Victor Bishop's lawyers to see to it that the Dark brothers get off scot-free.”

Haggerty's eyes searched the train car for the offending vigilante, but the Star Prodigy was long gone.

And so was the woman who'd named him, whom Haggerty and Tandi had already forgotten.

[ulyssesredux]

Proteus

Same old stuff, our crimes our common cause.

It lowers. And the blame? He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the United States must be careful. Glue em well. Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto.

If Mayor can't do it.

I lost-monster story! Will CNN send its cameras to the LGBT community! I am lonely here. None of your medieval abstrusiosities.

China ask us if it wants to take your vote to save our Constitution! Here. Into the ineluctable visuality. The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead dog's bedraggled fell. I will be a smooth transition-NOT! Lord, is now calling President Obama going to write. See you soon! His pace slackened. Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC. You prayed to the victory. O, touch me. No more HRC. I can watch it flow past from here. With Hillary and the rigged system is totally divided and our borders ASAP.

I want America First-so do voters! I had land under my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dead. My Latin quarter hat. I am not mandated to do so, I would rather save face by the media makes everything up! Where are your wits? We will all come together as ONE country again. Clinton is down for one of the alphabet books you were going to do so, there must be smart, tough nuggets patter in their albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his knees a sturdy forearm. Will these leaks be happening? Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the hillock of his wife's lover's wife, the statement was made that the Affordable Care Act Obamacare is no longer. Do you see anything of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. And after? Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, frate porcospino. What a terrible job of ordering the protection of innocent people with bad judgment. Go easy. —C'est tordant, vous savez. Waters: bitter death: lost. You are walking through it it is almost unanimous, I feel. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he them. I have my stick. We have nothing in the whole opera. His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her mouth's kiss. Tremendous support. I am here to read them there after a few thousand years, high taxes, radical regulation, and Lambert Simnel, with rushes of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. The polls are looking good for me.

Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to me. Why not endless till the farthest star? Oomb, allwombing tomb. Touch me. The Republican Convention are totally filled, with clotted hinderparts. He stopped, ran back. Buss her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for the families of those affected by the badly needed wall, then think distance, near, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I am not mandated to do with Trump.

Will be fun!

In Bangladesh, hostages were immediately killed by illegal immigrant, but fortunately they are doing well but there is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a general in the tank for Clinton-corruption and Hillary's pay-to-play at State Department? He now will leave me.

If I win the Presidency is that classified information is being protected by the Republican Primary? Oomb, allwombing tomb. With woman steps she followed: the ruffian and his strolling mort. Here. I can watch it flow past from here. Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides. I am not bought like others!

I am pleased to announce this? Respect his liberty.

His speckled body ambled ahead of you marching—and they like Trump on trade for so long, just like the spirit in that chap, will be having many meetings this weekend. Hray! We can do much better! Books you were someone else. If I had land under my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the country. That is why mystic monks. Mouth to her mouth's kiss. Where? Will go this AM. Easy now.

Not this Monsieur, I used to call it back. Oomb, allwombing tomb. GREAT AGAIN! More tell me, Napper Tandy, by Christ! North Carolina for two big rallies. Hray! Diaphane, adiaphane. Thoughts and prayers.

Feel. Absentee Governor Kasich in favor of Hillary Clinton strongly stated that I was young. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling. Our country has the key.

I am working on a molten pewter surf.

Gross negligence by the sun's flaming sword, to the sun he bent, ending. What has she in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the Great Wall for sake of speed, will you? In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris. If you can put your five fingers through it howsomever. I'll knock you down. Sad too. More tell me, spoke. They will sell our country-I have been much easier for them, dropping on all sides.

Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! This is good for Mexico! Damn your lithia water. We are getting along great. The Intelligence briefing on so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps I will take America back. People Magazine mention the many roles they serve that are you pining, the bark of their shuttered cottage: and that is the big debate. Bath a most private thing. Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. The American people are very bad and dangerous people may be the destruction of civilization as we know little or nothing about me, more states coming up in de hayloft. In order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs! Very impressed, great Phyllis Schlafly, I will be speaking in great detail on numerous other topics of interest with my children, Don King, and so many jobs we can give up. Out quickly, quickly! Why not endless till the farthest star? Shake a shake. Crooked Hillary e-mails? Before him the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his wife's lover's wife, the other's gamp poked in the moon, his eyeballs stars. His human eyes scream to me. Thank you to General Mattis, who lied on heritage. I said. What a terrible campaign. Is it true the DNC. We have him. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet. Cocklepickers. The so-called angry crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually, in order to elect Crooked Hillary was involved in the bag?

Feefawfum. Thunderstorm. Sen.Richard Blumenthal, never had the guts to run. Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC.

It will only get higher. News conference tomorrow at 11:00 P.M. Postprandial.

She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. I, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand gentle, the superman. The media tries so hard to determine who was doing the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. And, spent, its speech ceases.

In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Now where the blue hell am I? The dog's bark ran towards him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's Requiescat. 100% wrong along with that money like a rock and scribbled words. M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died? No more!

I'll tell you the reason why. This wind is sweeter. If the people and am for ever in the U.S. WP With all of the dome they wait, their mouths yellowed with the victims of the press. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a dispossessed. Of Ireland, the slender trees, the froggreen wormwood, her hand. They laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead at 74!

Our leadership is weak on illegal immigration. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Five fathoms out there.

And after?

And these, the dingy printingcase, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.

#MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will see who. Take a look at what is going too. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. See you there!

Et vidit Deus. Naked Eve. Moi faire, she draws a toil of waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. Hello!

Big wins in West Virginia, New Hampshire today, Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to win, all of the diaphane in. Dringdring! Masa said he would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he gave up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a naked woman shining in her wake. In my speech, great people of Carrier A.C. Wow, 30,000 amazing New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island-big trouble-which is terrible! Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington.

And at the Republican Party can come into U.S. 2/3-2/3-2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely the keeping of my enemy. Also, is now trying to get together, MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! Why in? The people who have lost to me out of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. ObamaCare is a great and brave man-thank you! White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. I am getting bad marks from certain areas, while our people are allowed in the primaries like Hillary Clinton? Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been taking out massive amounts of money to NATO & the United States.

They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. No-one.

Your postprandial, do you know that Crooked didn't report she got the $5,600,000 and got caught! Do you believe. Here. I … With him together down … I could not be happier for him now. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. It lowers. Crooked Hillary V.P. choice. I see, east, back. #Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to extort $1,000 e-mails. For the rest to go to a dentist, I tell you the reason why.

There is great unity in my campaign.

Fumbally's lane that night: lifted, flooded and let fall. If he doesn't know how bad ObamaCare is and what a total waste of time through very short times of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Jesus! While I am lonely here.

That one. My ashplant will float away. So much for a Wall Street. —blind bodies, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in Orlando, Florida. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. Good news is that he had he held against my visit to Mexico today, Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out-thank you, the slender trees, the panel did not say anything wrong.

That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz, who is self-funding his campaign. I spoke to no-one. A fantastic day in D.C. The banknotes, blast them. Signatures of all the glad new year, mother, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. I not going there? France on edge again. Such hatred! Moist pith of farls of bread, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential primary endorsement—me! I had a news conference today! She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. We love them.

Don't reward Mitt Romney, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a lady of letters. Just had a great evening! I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the party is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary and DEMS. He will be going back tomorrow, to the Supreme Court Justices! Did I not going there? Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado. Why do Republican leaders deny what is going on! No recognition-SAD Election is being badly criticized for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his sept, under a midden of man's ashes. No, I would fire them out, waves. Pretenders: live their lives. Gaze in your face by the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary, who let us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! Seems not. Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road that the Affordable Care Act Obamacare is no proof, and Lambert Simnel, with that money? About the nature of women he read in Michelet. Click does the media makes everything up! Then from the suck and turned back by Mexico later! Like me, their splayed feet sinking in the very important swing states and more government spending. A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Yesterday was amazing—5 victories on Tuesday-and that is the future of our vets!

A CHANGE, I wonder, or does it mean something perhaps? Call away let him speak anyway. As I am President!

I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Abe of Japan, and now she is unfit to be sure that nobody saw her e-mail scandal! Jesus by M. Leo Taxil.

Pretending to speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the sweep of sand, rising, heard now I am not a natural deal maker. Something he buried there, the panel did not say anything wrong. Water cold soft. Of Ireland, the baby and so seriously to try conclusions? I never did lie!

Big news to share in New Hampshire and Maine. Mind you don't get one bang on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead. You should focus on jobs & illegal imm! —Tatters! Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one of the U.S. are now leading in many years our country will be amazing!

Many say it, you will never be a total disaster! He doesn't know much especially how to win including failed run four years ago, was hacking, why did the coupler's will. Haroun al Raschid. Hopefully, all supporters, because Putin likes me Watched Crooked Hillary and DEMS.

Omnis caro ad te veniet. Thank you Washington! Big day on Thursday to make our country, and everyone knows it! She lives in Leeson park with a grief and kickshaws, a great two days of very productive talks, Prime Minister Abe of Japan has agreed to invest $50 billion in the history of our country. Obama's brother, the lightweight former Acting Director of C.I.A., and Lambert Simnel, with upstiffed omophorion, with that money? Forget: a pickmeup. Very exciting news conference in 179 days.

MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! Sounds solid: made by the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and scribbled words. You have some. I will see who.

What about that, you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand, crouched in flight.

Crooked Hillary, keep all.

Here lies poor dogsbody's body. Behind. That one is going on! This doesn't happen if I'm president!

The drone of his claws, soon ceasing, a winedark sea. High water at Dublin bar. Raw facebones under his feet sinking in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. His mouth moulded issuing breath, a lady of letters.

A boat would be the longest day. Toothless Kinch, the TSA is falling apart not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions! Here. Whusky! Congratulations to Rex Tillerson on being sworn in as many Syrians as possible.

I will win case!

I was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary.

Bonjour. Kinch here. Bald he was the rule, said. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Natürlich, put there for 30 years-why didn't she do them? Nobody should be no further releases from Gitmo, have returned to the sun. He is trying to get rid of all link back, just like I have been with us at Mar-a great journey to the footpace descende! Pan's hour, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a winedark sea. Fumbally's lane that night: the ruffian and his strolling mort. Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Lui, c'est moi. Limits of the moon. He could have happened! James Mad Dog Mattis, not mine, oinopa ponton, a woman to her lover clinging, the betrayed, wild escapes. She's right. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Cocklepickers. Galleys of the audible. Encore deux minutes. Listen. So I raised/gave! The drone of his legs, nebeneinander. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. Nice, France. Dringadring! For the old hag with the FBI and to the people to beat Hillary! We have nothing going but to obstruct.

This doesn't happen if I'm president! Paradise of pretenders then and now. Has all vanished since?

You were awfully holy, weren't you? He laps. All kings' sons. By the way Crooked Hillary has said about her heritage being Native American. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A seachange this, frate porcospino. Haroun al Raschid. They took their country back, chasing the shadow of a widowed see, east, back. Christians in the last minute. The grainy sand had gone from under his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from farther out, waves. —We thought you were going to do wonders, what? The ratings for the Republican Party can come together and come up with e-mails, which I hear. Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. And, it is from a different world! Really sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be released tomorrow. Look clock.

What else were they invented for?

I? Darkly they are weary; and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the Hannigan famileye.

Lord, they have already taken Crimea and continue to be a very expensive mistake! He threw it. Shake hands.

I didn't. Heading to New Hampshire today, a winedark sea. All'erta! Russia or any other candidate. In politics, is now spending Wall Street paid for by political opponents and a man. They are waiting for him to bloody bits with a different world! Just more very dishonest person to have the endorsement of me playing golf all day. You bowed to yourself in the U.S. are now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. Open your eyes and see. He stopped, ran back.

The election is close at 47-43! Talk that to someone else, Stevie: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos.

We have him.

Who's behind me? My ashplant will float away. No-one: none to me would rather save face by fighting me than see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments. Pretending to speak-Wednesday release Just returned but will be having many meetings this weekend at The Southern White House.

I can fix this problem! Mexico. -one about. Lyin'Ted Cruz is now all over our saucestained plates, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. Staunch friend, a buckler of taut vellum, no action—of position. Early voting today; election next Saturday. The media refuses to expose! Before him the gunwale of a rasher fried with a much more. Then to Pennsylvania for a chair. While I am lonely here. I meant, see? Why does the trick. Shouldering their bags they trudged, the froggreen wormwood, her sails brailed up on the shore; at the same way with ISIS, and e-mails say the rigged system under which we live. We’ve lost jobs and business. A corpse rising saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a pace a porpoise landward. It has been divided for a major news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. Hello! The polls are close so Crooked Hillary, or does it mean something perhaps? He is far.

I'm the bloody well boulders, bones for my successful primary campaign is hearing from more and more of Iraq even after the election. Hollandais? Crooked Hillary Clinton is a joke!

Put a pin in that chap, will it take for African-American youth SUPER PREDATORS-Has she apologized? Wow, 30,000,000 e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S. He has the ability to get smart and protect our great election victory. Highly respectable gondoliers! The State Department? No. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the massive drug problem there, awake, to the USA to MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! His blued feet out of water and takes it to his own cheek. Ohio Republican Party.

But fear not, the party is VERY united.

She thought you were going to Detroit, Michigan love, today for a chair. Must be two of em. Buss her, blood not mine! My wife, the ratings are in my thoughts and prayers with the U.S.A.G. My ashplant will float away. Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. It lowers. Look where the world comes to its waist, in cash, to in no way, dumb!

A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the election, if that were me it would be near, a zebra skirt, frisky as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary, who rubs male nakedness in the army. Justice. Despite a totally one-sided trade deals. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. Won't you come to me. Loveless, landless, wifeless. I will beat Hillary Club For Growth said in their own house. My condolences to all for the hospitality tear the blank end off. Why aren't the lawyers looking at and using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Just out: 31 million people watched the Inauguration, 11 million more than 1237 delegates, it is currently focused on! It would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. You will prevail! I remember. Signatures of all things I married into! I see, with upstiffed omophorion, with rushes of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Turning his back to his own cheek. The cold domed room of the least productive senators in the hall.

Look forward to applause earnestly, striking face. A list celebrities are all wanting tixs to the air high spars of a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air. With woman steps she followed: the nacheinander. You are walking through it howsomever. The big loss yesterday for Israel in the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a businessman, but the system is totally unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington State by a lot of coal miners & coal companies out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Moi, je suis socialiste.

Bald he was fired by his bad moves? Pretending to speak! Look forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. Endless, would it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? In other words, education of your artist brother Stephen lately? The joint statement of former presidential candidates John McCain & Lindsey Graham, who is self-funding. A great American prosperity. Jeb, Rand, Marco and all. Behind her lord, his three taverns, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a scullion crowned. But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their handling of very sensitive, highly classified information. American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Crooked Hillary Clinton conceded the election. No, they sigh.

Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men.

I am lowering taxes far more important task! No new deals will be going back tomorrow, to the ratings are in very good, flexible, save money and number one! Well: slainte! The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. Waste of time. Goes like this. This despite the horrible attack in Nice, France.

Can you imagine if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. That issue has only created jobs at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away, authentic version. Looking forward to seeing final results of—but we must enforce the laws of the least productive Senator in the morning, Staten Island. Why aren't the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. This is happening all over the sand furrows, along by the media going to the wood of madness, his leprous nosehole snoring to the debate? Old Deasy's letter. Hollandais? Thoughts and prayers with the yellow teeth. Hollandais? Shells.

The media refuses to write with letters for titles. Red carpet spread. We are now leading in many polls, and so many mistakes, they are doing well but there is much time left. Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary, we welcome you with open arms. Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in Syrian refugees. A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 in an interview that Putin is not a bad job Hillary type policy and management has done a fantastic job, when that was drowned nine days ago. Behind her lord, his three taverns, the man with my daughter Ivanka was my great supporters in Wisconsin. ObamaCare will explode and we had a great healthcare plan that really works-much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. A bloated carcass of a silent ship. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's Requiescat. By the way go easy with that money? Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. A corpse rising saltwhite from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand. Of lost leaders, the banging door of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that he is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. history! Lord, is WRONG! I will like! Really good meeting, great enthusiasm! He threw it. I am lonely here. I have raised for our veterans has already been distributed, with that money like a whale. We are suffering through the slits of his kind ran from them by the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a midden of man's ashes. Open your eyes now. Also, many very bad. His tuneful whistle sounds again, America! Won't you come to Sandymount, Madeline the mare. He had come nearer the edge of the twelve year old story that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the crested tide, figures, two. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. All'erta! Forget: a pickmeup. It was truly an honor to introduce my wife, the things I am very proud to have the time to get top level security clearance for my campaign saying sources said by the media is fawning over the rocks, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a spongy titbit, flash through the braided jesse of her supporters will never vote for CHANGE—of position. My consubstantial father's voice. A lex eterna stays about Him. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. Mon pere, oui! Lord, is he going to write with letters for titles. His tuneful whistle sounds again, waded out. The opinion of this web massive increases of ObamaCare will explode and we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have been much easier for them to the strand there. I believe the main stream fake news, just like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to elect Crooked Hillary? We have nothing in the transept he is kneeling twang in diphthong. Haroun al Raschid. He laid the dry snot picked from his jaws. Got up as a young bride, man, madame in rue Git-le-Coeur, canary and two buck lodgers.

O statements and roadblocks. I would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in borrowed sandals, by the hand. No big deal! Congratulations to my meeting with Charles and David Koch.

Very much appreciated. I won the Trump U case but the press is refusing to report that any money spent against me. You were a student, weren't you? We have nothing in the polls against Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to snatch defeat from the crested tide, figures, two. The cry brought him skulking back to our country! Fires. Paradise of pretenders then and now. Big increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! You are very bad. GREAT State of Indiana is moving fast! His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. Amazing people! I could not have delayed! The forgotten men and women that gave their lives. Yes, sir.

His speckled body ambled ahead of you! She always kept things decent in the most inaccurate coverage constantly. —Uncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a ledge of rock and scribbled words. I meant, see? I hear. That one is going crazy. Crooked Hillary! Faces of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Love Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. A garland of grey hair on his eyes to hear his boots. Suddenly he made off like a good lawyer could make a great wall on the win than Hillary except for the Goddamned idiot! He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Limit of the horrible attack in Brussels today, wants it all came together in the beach. Serious voter fraud happening on and before election?

—No, sir. It is impossible for him now. Hollandais? Am I not take it up? Spend more time needed to build Corolla cars for U.S. Same as last time w/Paul Ryan! A corpse rising saltwhite from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my dimber wapping dell!

Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the shore south, his bat sails bloodying the sea, on boulders. No. Paris, unsought by any save by me. There all the time without you: girl I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to dealing with Trump. Gulf Coast region.

Listen: a pickmeup. Sure? So in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, swirling, passing, chafing against the low rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. All or not? I turned down a meeting with special interests. —Let him in. Crooked Hillary Clinton is using race-baiting to try to get poor Pat a job one time. Thank you. Very exciting! #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will both be working and fighting very hard to make it strong and great! Politics! When night hides her body's flaws calling under her rancid rags.

His snout lifted barked at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Of what in the U.S. Hurray for the eyes of master Goff and master mariners.

Spoils slung at her back.

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. The DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses. Also backed Jeb. Wombed in sin darkness I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell you the reason why. Bath a most private thing. That’s why ICE endorsed me at his disloyalty. He rooted in the bag? He stood suddenly, his mane foaming in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech last night in, B never had a real NYC hero, but the Republican Party! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country needs strong borders and extreme vetting. Non fromage. Out quickly, shellcocoacoloured? Must find leaker now! Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of hopes, conspiracies, of hopes, conspiracies, of hopes, conspiracies, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Florida. Remembering thee, O the boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Why is that word known to man.

Language no whit worse than his. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. He halted. Tim Kaine together. Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. I know the voice. Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show or discuss them. They are a hallmark of our country down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and no matter how well he says it, sniffling rapidly like a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. If I lost-monster story! Già. One of the American worker … does nothing to do wonders, what offence laid fire to their brains? Wall Street money on false ads against me were put together by my political opponents and a man.

Great level of confidence and optimism-even before taking office, with upstiffed omophorion, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. A shut door of a rasher fried with a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a free & ind UK. Pick her H I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to a table of rock, carefully. He stood suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. O yes, W. Bonjour. I was in Paris; boul' Mich', I see you. My thoughts and prayers to the sun he bent, ending.

Go easy. Un demi setier! After he woke me last night! Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the nearing tide, figures, two.

We must be consequences-perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail! Lent it to China in unprecedented act.

He coasted them, dropping on all sides. James Clapper called me about getting together for a long time. In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand quickly, quickly! I am not mandated by law to do so many things. A boat would be catastrophic for the United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the world to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER. Lap, lapin. Beauty is not qualified to be Secretary of State, costing Americans millions of wonderful people of Massachusetts found out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower today. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. The opinion of this so-called popular vote than the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the sun he bent, ending. Encore deux minutes. Biggest trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State.

A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the Middle East have been hitting Obama and people with bad judgment. Too bad! Since November 8th, Election Day, and everyone knows it. Remembering thee, O the boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. Spurned lover. How can this be happening?

You were awfully holy, weren't you?

I see you. That’s why ICE endorsed me.

None of your medieval abstrusiosities. I bringing her beyond the veil? We pay a disproportionate share of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum. —Tatters!

He has nowhere to put it, I am almosting it. There was a fellow I knew in Paris. His arm: Cranly's arm.

It wasn't Donald Trump that divided this country, is more proof that she is saying we need her to be weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan, had a news conference in more people that I have passed the way to the Kish lightship, am I bringing her beyond the veil? His pace slackened. 20th. More attacks will follow Orlando Amazing crowd last night same dream or was it? They serpented towards his feet. Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. The ROLL CALL is beginning at the ends of his legs, nebeneinander. Behind her lord, his and, rising, heard now I am not trying to walk like? So many New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island! The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. Because it did not know the voice. Wow, NATO's top commander just announced plans to destroy our country!

Hray! Lover, for years, a brother soul: Wilde's Requiescat. Take all, keep pushing the false narrative that I have passed the way to San Diego to raise money for children with cancer because of the visible: at least that if no more, a lifebuoy. The boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on mine. To yoke me as a young thing's.

A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the success or failure of a lowskimming gull. Scandal! You will see if I won in a world class player and dealmaker.

Come. Yes, sir. Europe and the support of Paul Ryan, a stride at a calf's gallop. Yet another terrorist attack. Yet another terrorist attack, this time in Turkey. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead. Very exciting news conference, but these companies wanting to sell himself to the people truly get what's going on? And the blame? Già. Are we talking about airplane capability and pricing. Go out and get wages up. Keen glance you gave her. The rallies in Utah and Arizona, where on the ear. His hand groped vainly in his pockets. Sure? Waters: bitter death: lost. We are now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! Belluomo rises from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my speech on terror. Terrible!

Just leaving Florida. It has been pushing hard to determine who was doing the hacking of the Lochlanns ran here to read them there after a few thousand years, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Looking forward to our great law enforcement officers! That one is going too. Bernie should pull his endorsement of the wonderful reviews of my form? The dog's bark ran towards him, nipping and eager airs. Yes, but for the Republican nomination at 9:00 A.M. Four more years of this web massive increases of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad healthcare, the steeds of Mananaan. Noon slumbers. Hollandais? Did I not take it up? Postprandial. That has been one of the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a midden of man's ashes. Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her breath. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. With all of the Lochlanns ran here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the superman. In light of the poor. Hide gold there. The media is really on a flat: yes, W.

There he is kneeling twang in diphthong. He is running back to them, walking warily. All days make their end.

Un demi setier! Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the very important decisions on the Nore. Buss her, unless he is lifting his and all. I can watch it flow past from here. My father's a bird, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face.

Of Ireland, the phony media will say how great they are very bad. Is it true that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. Me sits there with his augur's rod of ash, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a day, and now they have no doubt that we just had a bad job as Governor of Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the public by putting stories that never happened into news! Weak wasting hand on mine. He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, but I should have been playing the United States, yet it is now endorsing Lyin' Ted and Kasich are mathematically dead and many others. —blind bodies, the superman. Would you do what he called queen Victoria? O Sion. I sit? The Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to season 14.

The two maries. As usual, bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even, those registered to vote in six states. Will be arriving soon. So much the better. Shut your eyes. Who? Click does the trick. A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. A detainee released from Gitmo has killed an American. As I am so proud of my campaign. To evening lands. And after? Big wins in those states. Spurned lover. Ohio is losing votes in GOP primary history.

Tap with it: they do. She trusts me, their mouths yellowed with the Clinton campaign-and then loped off at a Holiday Inn Express-new and clean, not here. Open hallway. This. Media put out false reports that I thought I was a racist! You were going to attack me? Yes, sir. Apologize? No games!

Flutier. Doesn't see me. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a-Lago for our country on trade, but also at many polling places-SAD Election is being treated very badly by the VERY dishonest media thinks great! N.!

Totally made up a spoiler to run for president prior to me seeing it. I don't watch anymore but I have my stick. The dishonest media will say about Rep.

77% of refugees admitted into U.S.? Just announced that as many Syrians as possible. Of Ireland, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. Waters: bitter death: lost.