#vanessa profile left

[internatlvelvet]

Bloomsbury group, July 1915: Lady Ottoline Morrell; Maria Huxley (née Nys); Lytton Strachey; Duncan Grant; Vanessa Bell

[foxtrology]

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 2

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: You tell Harry what you don't do for a living, and the charity concert heats things up a bit.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I was not expecting to post the second part to this immediately after posting part one. But it was already written and I was happy with it so here ya go! Thank you for the love and support on part one, your interaction with that introductory chapter means the world to me! I am so stoked to share what I have planned for these two, and I'm aiming to tie this up as a neat little five part fic. But, I have a tendency to go overboard and find excuses to make my fics longer (looking at you, Out of This World), so we shall see if I can stick to that or not!

I want to go ahead and warn that I am not a fluent Spanish speaker. A novice at best. But, my partner and I are casually learning the language and there are a few moments involving Spanish in this chapter. Part two is heavily influenced by my obsession with a certain Latin American artist (you'll see), and so I make a reference to some lyrics. I did my best to ensure that the translations are accurate. I love the language and I would like to do it justice if I am going to reference it in my work.

New note, 6/25: I went back and made one small edit to this chapter. In it, Harry originally said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Song Inspiration

Warnings: Drinking; Smoking THC; Harry is a little intoxicated and horny; Reader is too; Lying is stressful and bad, don't lie if you like someone a lot; Reader is bisexual; More descriptions of Reader's cam sessions; Cursing; Grinding; Kissing; Dancing; A little dirty talk; No Smut yet but we are edging towards it.

Minors DNI; Strictly 18+

Ao3

*****

Harry’s body is close to yours as you lean your back against the wall in a semi secluded corner of the venue. Sipping your drink, the third one since you started talking to him nearly forty-five minutes ago, any trepidation you felt about him before has left your person for the time being. The job subject hasn’t come up again. Instead you were able to slyly gloss over it, starting a new conversation by asking him his favorite thing about life in New York, and then things evolved from there.  

You’re both about to need a fourth drink by the looks of each nearly empty glass, but you’re not so sure if a fourth drink is a great idea. Harry seems to be holding his liquor just fine, but you’re a pot smoker at heart and you don’t normally drink this much. You know you’re tipsy, and you don’t want to take things too far and risk ruining the night for yourself. Vanessa never came back, and you’re not sure how she’ll react to know you’ve been getting semi drunk with a stranger. Then again, she’s been practically begging you to try and meet someone ever since she and Charles got together. Who knows, maybe she’ll be thrilled.

All you know is, you’ll be thanking her later when the two of you eventually make it back home. Harry Castillo is much better company than that silly vampire prince. 

You’re too lost in watching the skin around his eyes wrinkle with laughter at the dumb joke you just made a moment ago, and the beautiful dramatic curve of his broad nose when he turns his head to look briefly at the empty stage. He’s gorgeous from every angle, but that side profile of his is something else entirely. And his laugh? What a gift that sound is. 

“Are you listening?” The man you're mesmerized with asks as his chuckles fizzle out and he looks you up and down, brow lifting. “I asked you a question and you just stared at me.”

“Honestly, no. I wasn’t listening. You’re a little distracting when I’ve had three vodka sodas with generous pours. Have I told you that you’re handsome, Harry?” You’re unable to stop yourself as your hand lifts up and you run three manicured fingers through the hair just above his ear. You’re careful not to mess it up too much, and you revel in the softness of it.

Harry leans down, mouth hovering six or so inches from yours as his brown eyes bore into you. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”

Your chest swells and your stomach flutters at the question, lifting up towards him slightly. It would be so easy to kiss him, and it would also be utterly insane. Instead you force yourself not to. 

“Can we get some air? It suddenly feels like a million degrees. I guess I need to pace myself with these.” As you say that last sentence, you lift up your empty glass and send him an embarrassed little look while you shake it about and let the ice clink around. 

Harry’s eyes darken slightly with a vaguely lusty countenance, his free hand coming to rest on the wall right behind your head as he grins down at you. “I don’t think it's the booze heating things up in here. I could use to cool-off as well.”

With that, his hand slides from the wall and his fingers graze the side of your neck. A shiver runs up your spine as those fingers delicately run along the line of your jaw, before the tip of his index finger curls just under your chin. A small bit of pressure from him and you’re lifting up even more to meet him. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you for a moment, but then he simply shakes his head as if he cannot believe the sight before his eyes. 

“You really are beautiful.” 

Finger leaving your chin, his arm is suddenly weaving through yours, hooking at the elbow as he begins to pull you towards the huge glass doors of the terrace. Along the way you both discard your empty drinks, and then he’s leading you out into the warm summer night air. The two of you have the terrace all to yourselves, as everyone else seems to be inside anticipating the concert to begin at any moment.

“Do you smoke?” You ask him, squinting a little as you gauge his reaction. 

“I used to smoke cigarettes. Quit in my thirties.” Harry shrugs, eyeing you for a moment before looking out at the surrounding city. 

The view is pretty spectacular, and the night sky is as clear as it can be in a city this large. There’s a full moon peeking out from just behind the tallest building you can see at this angle. It’s picturesque, but none of that really matters right now in his presence. 

Pulling the thin little dab pen from your small black purse, you hold the sleek looking thing to your lips and take a long, satisfying drag. He looks back at you just as you decide to blow it out, so the vapor leaves your mouth through a sly grin as you hold the pen out to him. “What about weed?” 

Brows raising, he takes the pen from you and lets his warm fingers linger against yours for a long moment. That’s practically enough to make you dizzy. 

“Occasionally. Usually in more private settings and not at an event like this. It’s expected that I keep up appearances, you know.” Harry examines the thing, then he puts the mouthpiece to his plump lips and pulls a hefty drag of his own.           

God what you wouldn’t give to bite that bottom lip of his, body heating up as you watch the black plastic tip of the device rest indented against the pouty pink flesh there. A moment later he lets the vapor go with a sputtering, wide-eyed cough.

“Easy. Down, boy,” the phrase leaves your mouth along with a fit of giggles as you smack him lightly on the back.

“Jesus,” Harry blurts out between coughs, “you did that like a pro. I feel like a blundering novice.”

“I’m a seasoned veteran,” you say with a small bow, fully aware of the cleavage shot you’re gracing him with as you take the pen back.

“Apparently so,” Harry says with a chuckle, eyes lingering on your offered chest for a moment. “God, my throat burns.”

You frown a little, not wanting to have hurt him. “Yeah, sorry. Vapes are kind of awful. But they do nicely in a pinch, or when I’m out and about like this.” 

“So you go out often, then? Just not in the circles I run in, I suppose.”

“I can’t say that Van and I spend a lot of time with late forties businessmen, no.”

“I wish I didn’t. What kinds of circles do you run in, then?” As he asks this question, another more important question seems to dawn on him. A wild look of realization washes over his face. The dab pen certainly made him a bit more emotive, and you can’t help but find it endearing. “Oh! Do you have a boyfriend?”

A giddy little smirk finds your lips, happy to know that’s a concern of his. “No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No relationship. And, honestly, not that many circles. I have a handful of friends, but usually I enjoy doing things on my own most of the time. Reading, going to the movies, making food.”

Harry’s lovely brown eyes, red and squinting now, widen comically as a look of stoned pleasure takes over his handsome features. After that, his facial muscles relax considerably.  You know he’s feeling high when a warm hum escapes him as he says, “Mm, nice. I love movies. And books. And food.” Then his eyes grow even wider, as if he just remembered that food even exists. “Oh my god. I love food. We should get food after this. Something greasy?”

Harry’s enthusiasm sends you over with giggles, shaking your head at your handsome new friend. Clearly he doesn’t smoke as much as you do. “I’d get food with you, Harry. Who doesn’t love food?”

“Weirdos, I’m sure,” he chuckles confidently, smiling at you. “Do you speak Spanish?” He asks, suddenly changing the subject as he leans an elbow over the railing. “I got the impression that your roommate does.”

You nod, “She’s Mexican, so good call. It was her first language. I’m not fluent or anything but I’ve spent so much time with her that I can understand it much better than I can speak it. We watch a lot of Spanish language films together, and she’s influenced most of my current taste in music. But even still, I get so nervous that my accent is atrocious.”

“Say something in Spanish,” he softly commands, nodding once with more of that charming confidence of his. He’s going to send you over the edge just by existing, you just know it. There’s a gorgeous view of the city you love so much behind him, but he’s the only thing you can see right now.  

Stoned and nervous, you hide your face in your hands and say the first thing that comes to mind, “ Frijoles negros .” 

Harry barks with laughter and embarrassment immediately floods your system. You frown, looking down at the street below for a second. 

Harry seems to notice this, shaking his head and smiling at you fondly with reddened, squinting eyes. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean to laugh. Your accent is actually lovely. You should feel more confident in your Spanish. I just wasn’t expecting you to say black beans. ”

Shaking your head with a laugh, it’s a relief to know he wasn’t picking on you. You feel brave enough to shove him in the upper arm, deciding to use a term that Vanessa throws around a lot. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have to put me on the spot like that, cabrón. ”

He laughs even harder for a moment. Then a sudden look of realization washes over his face, and his brow furrows. “I just remembered. You never did tell me what you do for a living.”

There it is. He slipped it in so perfectly after your guard had fallen so far down.You nearly choke on the next hit of the dab pen, sputtering as you let the vapor leave your lungs and hand it over to Harry once more. 

Recovering, you try your best to smile and act as if that had simply been a cough. “Well,” you begin, prolonging the inevitable even more, “I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’m a college dropout with no degree from a poor family. School wasn’t for me. Couldn’t afford it and didn’t apply myself so I stopped before I put myself in debt for no reason. After that I moved here to become an actress. That was a little over a decade ago. Acting didn’t work out, but that was never really my dream. This city was my true dream, and that part did work out eventually.”

He hits the pen twice more and hands it back, his handsome voice taking on a serious tone. “I don’t care if you have a college degree. Life is what teaches us how to live, not some expensive school. I was fortunate to have the money for that kind of an education, but ultimately my path was picked out for me regardless of my schooling. I learned how to do what I do by spending summers working as my mother’s assistant. Whatever you do, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.”

“Ha,” you scoff, looking away from him momentarily. “I usually don’t. In front of you, I do. You’re a little intimidating, Harry.”

Harry frowns, most likely at your continued reluctance to tell him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry so much. You really do intrigue me, that’s all.”

With a wave of the hand you try to brush that statement off. But inside you’re screaming with joy that a man of his caliber is saying things like that to you. “I’m really not that interesting.”

“Now that’s simply not true. Because girls like you don’t come to things like this. Your jewelry, for example.” Harry reaches his right hand towards the left side of your face, his thick index finger hooking behind your dangling earring. His eyes cast down at it for a long moment, and the most adorable little grin finds his lips. “I’ve never met a girl who wears bat earrings before. Especially not in the dead of summer, to an event like this. But it’s tasteful, and it fits your look very well.”

With a shrug, your left hand lifts to graze his wrist. “You can’t blame an ex-goth for hanging on to her old aesthetic a little bit, can you?”

Harry surprises you then by grabbing your fingers, bringing them up to meet his lips, kissing the matching ring. “That, I cannot.”

He nods thoughtfully, holding your hand close to his mouth. Close enough you can feel his warm breath. “You seem to have money despite your background. More so than your friend. The way you carry yourself suggests that this is a recent development in your life. I’m old money. New money is easy enough to sniff out when you’ve been stuck around these people your whole life. Maybe only a year or so for your financial success?”

“About two,” you blurt out, hand darting out of his grasp, flying to your lips. 

You stupid stupid bitch! Shut UP!

You’ve already said far too much to this man and if you’re not careful you could ruin what is turning out to be a beautiful evening. Normally you’re not shy about your profession. You’ve told plenty of the men and women you’ve casually dated over the last two years. You’re not ashamed of what you do when you’re talking to someone on your level, but you’ve never even been close to these kinds of people before tonight. 

To put it plainly, you simply enjoy expensive things because you had to grow up wanting for so much and having so little. Somehow you managed to find a job you genuinely enjoy, which allows for you to have the money to afford the life of casual luxury you always wished for. That doesn’t mean you look to surround yourself with other wealthy people. Most of your friends are still starving artists much like Vanessa. The fact that he called himself ‘old money’ just now is proof enough that he was born on a different plane of existence. 

Harry Castillo is so incredibly far above you on the food chain when it comes to New York City’s elite. He could chew you up and spit you out if you let him. Someone of his social stature could never know the truth about what you do and look at you the same way. You’re certain of it. 

If he knew that this time last night, instead of a designer dress, all you had on your body, or in your body rather, was a jeweled plug and a ring gag. If he knew there had been a weighted chain connected to both of your expertly hidden nipple piercings. If he knew that while you facefucked yourself with a pretty pink dildo, a much older and much less attractive man than Harry was fucking himself with a fleshlight to it on the other side of the video feed. If he knew that right after the session you used your wand to give yourself a quiet, grunting orgasm as your well earned treat after faking a big loud one for your client… If he knew any of that , Harry Castillo may not think you’re as beautiful and intriguing as he does right now. 

But he does think you’re beautiful and intriguing right now. He said so himself. And you haven’t said anything that could ruin your chances with him yet. So you scramble to think of something to say, and finally an idea comes to mind.

“I’m sorry I’m being so cagey about telling you. It’s just not something I like to discuss with someone I’ve only just met. I’m…,” your brain scrambles again, a split second of doubt stopping you from lying. But then the loosened inhibitions from the alcohol and smoke make you blurt out the only lie that makes any sense, and the decision is made. 

“An author!”

It’s not a total lie. While you haven’t completed anything novel-length yet, a handful of your short stories have been featured in a few fetish zines and smut compilations. Real, published ones. You never see any real money from those ventures, but it still counts. Your Ao3 account has about twenty-five contributions. All you ever read is smutty romance. This is a subject you know enough about to craft a believable fib around it. Guilty as that makes you feel, given that this is the most you’ve liked someone new in a hot minute. 

But, Harry Castillo comes off like a man you’ll never see again after tonight. So what’s a little white lie going to hurt in the grand scheme of things? The two of you are from completely different worlds. One night with a man like him is a blessing. Any more nights? That's asking for trouble.

His eyes light up at your not-true confession, lips spreading across his face in a wide, handsome grin. 

Oh no. Perhaps you’ve been in trouble from the very start.

Harry’s so enthusiastic as he exclaims, “You have to let me read your work!”

You’re blushing, and sweating a bit. “Oh, that’s kind of you but I’m sure what I write is not your speed whatsoever.”

Harry’s firm on this, shaking his head once. “I insist. I’m going to look you up as soon as I go home.”

Is this man fucking real? There’s no way he exists in this realm. 

“You won’t find me,” you say abruptly, quickly adding, “I use a pseudonym!”

He leans in, hovering close to your face as he pouts that damned lower lip ever so slightly. “Tell me your pseudonym? Please ?”

Your pulse quickens, palms moistening as you shake your head again. “I’d rather not, Harry.”

“Why? Do I make you nervous? I’m sure you’re a fine writer, and I’d like to see for myself.” Those big brown eyes are pleading with you, and it’s almost too much entirely. “At least tell me what genre you write in.”

“Uh, romance mostly,” you blurt out. “Like I said, not your speed.”

He shocks you when a bashful look crosses his features. “Actually, and please don’t out me for this, my guilty pleasure is romance. A night in with a bottle of wine and a steamy book or a sappy movie? Ideal. Please, let me read your work?”

Deflecting, you say, “My work is a little more intense than your mainstream romance. Steamy doesn’t even cut it.”

But Harry’s once again surprising you with his reaction. “Oh, really? You write erotica? Fascinating! Now I really must read something of yours.”

Your voice nearly waivers, but you hold fast. “ No , Harry.”

“Why not? Is it me?” Harry’s face falls, disappointment written all over him. A kind of shyness and vulnerability finds his voice, you’re certain of it.

You’re frowning, and for a split second you consider backtracking and telling him the truth. He really does seem to like you, and perhaps there’s a chance he would understand. But are you brave enough to take that chance? 

No, evidently you’re a coward. 

Fuck me, you think. And since you’d love for this night to end with Harry Castillo doing just that, you decide to speak from the heart as much as you can without revealing too much. The web of lies you’ve begun to weave is already starting to stress you out a little, so you take another decent puff on the dab pen and stick it back in your purse. 

“It is you, but not because I don’t like you. It’s because that is a very personal part of me,” you say. Not a complete lie. Okay, good. Keep going. “The smut I write comes from my real deepest darkest desires.” Worried that what you just said sounds sketchy, you quickly recover by adding, “Kinky, but nothing worrisome. My stories are not just about sex, they’re about the love between the characters. Those bonds are sacred, fictional representations of what I eventually want for myself with a real partner. Forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you when I don’t know you very well and I certainly don’t know if I can trust you. Perhaps if I got to know you better I would eventually let you read my work. But as of right now I reserve the right to deny you access. That part of my life is very private, and the small amount of success I see from it allows me to afford the lifestyle I want to live. So it’s important that my two worlds don’t collide. My parents don’t even know. Neither does my sister and she thinks I tell her everything. They all think I gave up acting to do clerical work for a law firm that happens to pay really well.”

Harry stares at you for a long time, but then his furrowed brow softens and he nods. A little smile creeps onto his lips, and the distance between you feels lessened all of the sudden. 

“You know,” he begins, a hand reaching up to move a curl from your eyes, the tips of his fingers finding your cheek, “that’s extremely fair. More than fair, actually. If you let me see you again after tonight I think I’ll make it my life’s work to earn that trust from you.”

Your breath hitches at such a forward statement, and you worry that you’re in much deeper shit than you meant to get yourself into. So much for never seeing him again after this.       

Attempting to deflect again, you tell him, “Just know that’s not an easy task. A lot of walls to break down and all that.” As you say this, he's leaning forward even more.

His lips are hovering just an inch or so above yours. “I have walls of my own, you know. Everyone does. Totally normal.”

Just as your lips graze his ever so lightly, a huge uproar from inside the venue causes you both to jump apart in surprise. Then some dramatic strings begin to play, followed by the beat of a hiphop style track.  

You shriek . Shrill and unforgiving. Harry winces at the sound of it. Without thinking, you grab Harry’s hand and begin yanking him towards the big glass doors you came out from. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Oh my fucking GOD! Vanessa wasn’t making this up!”

*****

“Is that the secret musical guest?” Harry asks, brow to his hairline in surprise as he lets you pull him easily. He can’t quite make out the song, but people seem to be going crazy inside for whoever it is. Then he squints, as if that will help him to hear better, and that’s when Harry realizes that your pen made him much higher than he usually gets when he partakes in the indulgence of marijuana. The three drinks, not including the one he had before he ran into you, aren’t assisting him to feel very sober now either. His senses are on a bit of an overload, but it feels good at the same time. Then a familiar set of music notes hits his eardrum, and a deep male voice sings the word dime in Spanish twice and his jaw drops a little. “Wait. Is that… Bad Bunny? ”

The wild look you throw back at Harry is absolutely adorable. This is clearly the reason you came to this event in the first place, and suddenly your presence here makes a little more sense to him.

“It IS! Holy fuck I am going to lose my MIND. Please come dance with me, Harry. I like you and I want to experience this with you,” you plead back at him with a soft and genuine expression that melts every single part of Harry Castillo into a helpless goo.

As if he was going to choose to be anywhere else tonight after meeting you. 

Your hand makes it to the doorknob, and as soon as you’ve pushed it open the cacophony from within is nearly too much. The screams from the crowd are more deafening than the music itself. The houselights have gone down and there’s a frenzy of new multicolored lights strobing Harry’s vision. It feels as if the two of you walked back inside to a completely separate event and Harry, for lack of a better term, feels high as balls. 

Harry has to really focus on raising his loud enough voice to tell you, “Wow, I can’t believe the guest is someone I actually listen to!” 

You turn to him, adorably wide-eyed as you yell back, “You like him too?!”

Harry nods, deciding that it’s time to be a gentleman and take the lead through the suddenly dense crowd. He switches things so that his hand is the one more in control of your now linked fingers, nodding down at you as he moves past and starts to lead you instead. “I do! One of my favorites!”

“I would have never guessed that in a million years!” You shout, expression dumbfounded. He frowns at you a little, mildly self conscious as he shouts back, “Why? Because I’m old?”

Harry feels relieved when that question seems to surprise you, and he loves the way you roll your eyes at him in a bratty sort of way, raising your voice to tell him, “You’re old-er, not old! And no, because you’re a fancy rich guy and this is not the kind of music fancy rich people listen to.”

“There’s more to me than meets the eye. And the pocketbook, for that matter,” Harry says, willing you to feel how true that statement is for him.

“Me too,” you concede, face softening.

The two of you lock eyes for a long moment, and Harry feels this swelling in his chest he’s never felt before. The pressure of it is nearly painful, but then it morphs into something else entirely as it unfurls through his being like a warm drink on a cold day spreading through his belly. He really must be more intoxicated than he realized.

What the hell was that?

*****

Harry leads you into the main room of the event space, and the crowd is literally losing their minds over the man sauntering across the stage with a microphone in his hand. As he spouts off lyrics in Spanish and the crowd joins in enthusiastically, a grin spreads across the musician’s handsome features. His stylish outfit is impeccable and his curly hair looks so soft, even at a distance. He’s more attractive in real life than you could have anticipated from pictures and music videos. But even still, he doesn’t hold a candle to the suave gentleman whose fingers are laced with yours. You’d thought Bad Bunny was going to be the one and only man holding your attention tonight, even back when it was still a huge possibility that Van was full of shit. 

You hadn’t accounted for meeting Harry Castillo. 

“Oh, fuck ,” you say to yourself, but loud enough for Harry to hear over all the noise. “I can’t believe it’s really Benito! This is not how I expected my day to go when I got up this morning!”

“Those are always the best days,” Harry responds, grinning as he yanks you forward more. “Do you want me to get you all the way down to the front? I’ll stay with you and keep you safe.”

“Please stay with me,” you agree, still marveling at the fact that there’s a man here who’s captivated your attention far more than the musician you came here to see. 

Harry nods once and tightens his grip on your hand, starting to strongly push his way through the crowd onto the main dance floor. It’s such a contrast to how this place looked an hour ago, and seeing all of these stuffy people in fine clothing bump and grind is a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see. The energy feels like that of the raves you used to attend as a younger woman. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually Harry’s able to shove his way through the various groups and couples and you’re right up in front of the small stage. A flash of familiar light pink to your right catches your attention, and you see Vanessa and Charles dancing together just beside you. Harry must have brought you to her on purpose. Good thing he’s tall enough to see over the crowd, because you never would have spotted her. 

When Vanessa notices you, she lets go of Charles and flings herself into your arms with a girly, high-pitched squeal of delight. 

“Thank you, bitch!” You scream to her, grinning like a madwoman.

“You’re welcome, bitch!” She screams back, and then, at no surprise to you at all, she presses her lips to yours in a quick but heated kiss. Her lips massage yours, uncaring if lipstick gets misplaced along the way. Just as your tongue flicks along the tip of hers, she breaks apart from you with a wink and a grin. You give her a disappointed little huff for ending that so quickly. 

When you both notice Harry and Charles staring at the two of you with slack-jawed expressions, you and Vanessa both burst out into laughter. It’s all barely audible over the concert. The men lock eyes for a moment and then share a quick shrug of confused comradery, and at that moment Vanessa flings herself back into Charles’ arms. She’s definitely drunk, because drunk Vanessa’s favorite thing in the world is kissing. And she’s already got her tongue buried so deeply in Charles’ mouth that you’re sure word of their confirmed relationship will have spread around to all of their coworkers by morning. So much for secrets. 

With a shake of the head you’re facing Harry again, and he’s looking down at you with lust in those inviting chocolate eyes of his. 

Slightly dilated pupils land on your lips for a moment, and his tongue darts out from between his teeth to wet his own a little as he lifts his hand to his own face. When his tongue appears again not a moment later, this time to run slowly over the pad of his thumb, a distinct and familiar throbbing heats up between your legs. All at once you’re desperate to feel that tongue run slowly over your aching, needy nub.

Harry’s palm finds your cheek, and he swabs his moist thumb just below the corner of your mouth. You just knew some of Van’s pink lipstick had smeared onto you, which is surely in contrast to your own dark red lip liner look. As he wipes it away, you can’t help but think that if you were in a different setting you’d have half a mind to draw the appendage between your lips and show him just exactly what your intentions are with a move far too sultry for a public place. 

You realize that you’re the one staring at his lips now, licking your own in anticipation. Once Harry’s finished ridding you of the unwanted lipstick, you nod at him in an attempt to give your silent approval if he truly wants to kiss you. A great thrill runs through you when he leans down and presses his lips to yours in response.

Finally , you think blissfully as your eyes close and your hands immediately find the lapel of his suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life. He tastes of whiskey and your dab pen, and his lips are so incredibly soft and inviting as you brazenly deepen the kiss with your own parting mouth. He lets you do it easily, and you’re so desperate to feel his warm tongue touch you anywhere if you can’t feel it touch you there .

His other hand flies to your waist, fingers gripping into the fabric of your dress. The two of you stay like that for a long moment, but then suddenly Harry is breaking the kiss, spinning you around to face forward towards the stage. His mouth is against your ear, “You came here to see him, so watch him. You can have plenty of me later. If you want me, of course.”

“I want you,” you breathe honestly, relishing in the truth of it. You feel his nose brush your bare shoulder, mustache tickling you before he presses a chaste kiss to the exposed flesh. 

Harry’s hips find yours from behind, and his hands find generous amounts of your body to hold on to as the music really starts to flow through both of you. Song after song you and Harry move in sync. 

Occasionally Vanessa comes back over and the two of you share a moment of joyful hip grinding, hands and lips briefly all over each other before she goes back to Charles. That only seems to rile your own dance partner up more.

Sometimes, much to your surprise when you first hear it, Harry dips his head in and you feel the rumble of him singing along to the lyrics as he presses into you. He hadn’t been full of shit when he said that this was music he actually listens to.

When Bad Bunny is halfway through HIBIKI , Harry has the audacity to sing the line “ b aby, te lo meto si me das permiso” which you know roughly translates to “baby, I'll give it to you if you give me permission.” The song itself is sexy sounding but angsty in content, and yet even still Harry is somehow masterfully using the promiscuous lyrics to his advantage. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. With his hot mouth up against your right lobe and what you’re sure is the beginnings of a hard on pressing just below the small of your back, you’re certain you’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in your entire life. 

Then a line later, you can feel him slip the hairpin holding your bun from your head, and your hair falls down over your shoulders in a cascade of waves.

Harry’s hand moves the tresses off your right shoulder and his voice is in your ear, singing, “Jalarte po' el pelo, despeinarte toda, después te doy chavo pal′ beauticion.” With that he very gently tugs on the locks once, before running his fingers up under your hair to massage the back of your head. As Harry sings the next line after that, his other hand slyly slinks around to bunch up the fabric of your skirt and you feel his warm hand grazing your inner thigh. “En ese totito cabe perfecto mi bicho.”

Pull your hair, mess it up, then I'll give you money for a beautician. That little pussy fits my dick perfectly.

Thank god the venue is so loud that you’re probably actively getting hearing damage, because otherwise the moan which escapes your mouth would have probably drawn attention to the increasingly inappropriate dancing going on between you and Harry Castillo. A quick glance around the pit suggests that nearly everyone seems to be dancing like that, some not holding back whatsoever, and so you suppose what you and Harry are doing probably looks tame. 

But it doesn’t feel tame. It feels like he’s tapped into that deeper part of you and you’re ready to let her out. 

Mercifully or tragically, you’re not sure which, the music switches over from hip-grinding hiphop to hip-swaying salsa, and Harry’s grip on you eases up. Your skirt drops back down just past your knees and the spot where his hand was feels empty. Wishing to see his face again, you spin around in his arms so that his hands are practically cupping your ass. 

You’re tired of shouting, so with hands on his broad shoulders you’re lifting up on your tiptoes to speak directly into his ear.

“Do you know how to salsa?” You ask.

He shakes his head, causing his earlobe to graze your lip. Then he’s brushing your hair to the side to speak in your ear again, “A little when I was a kid, but not really. I’d love to take lessons if I had a good dance partner.”

 “I would too,” you agree, looking over where Vanessa and Charles are doing the moves perfectly. “Those two make me so fucking jealous, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“So I don’t have to worry about her stealing you away tonight?”

“Nah, Van is a very lovey dovey drunk and I am her very willing and bisexual best friend. Usually we’re out at a club when she’s like that and I’d rather have her kiss me than some skeezey dude who might want to roofie her drink. That’s her boyfriend, Charles, she’s dancing with. So I’m off the hook tonight.”

“Mm, good,” Harry breathes, smirking as his eyes flick down to your lips. “More for me, then.”

*****

A few songs and an encore later, your favorite musician is gone as quickly as he appeared, and the surrealness of the last nearly hour and a half washes over you just as the houselights wash over the dissipating crowd. You’re covered in sweat and so horny you’re sure you’re going to burst. Harry hasn’t left your side since the moment the two of you locked eyes at the bar, and after feeling him grind into you like that for so long you’re determined not to leave his side until you’ve been satiated. This man has you so feral for him that you’re not even processing the fact that you just got to see your dream musical performance. 

He’s ditched his suit jacket, keeping it flung over one shoulder as he guides you away from the stage with a hand on your moist back. Vanessa and Charles are following close behind, attempting to keep their hands to themselves now that their coworkers can see them. You’re dying to tell her that ship has already sailed, but they can figure that out for themselves.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you marvel, ears ringing in the quiet left behind from the show. 

Harry smiles at you fondly, “I’m glad I didn’t leave when I was going to. That was great, and I’m grateful I got to experience it with you.”

“Me too,” you agree, blushing a little from the genuineness of Harry’s tone. “So tell me how you got into him, because I am dying to know. You really knew your shit out there.”

Harry shrugs,  “My brother’s about your age and he’s obsessed. We did a week in Mexico for his bachelor party last year and he played Bad Bunny nonstop. After that I was hooked.”

“Mm, fair. Is your brother here?”

Harry grins wickedly, “No, he didn’t want to come. I cannot wait to rub it in his face when I head to the office on Monday.” Then he’s grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

Seeing the older brother side of him for a moment strikes your heart with a little flare of something more than lust for this man. He’s wonderfully adorable. “You were an excellent partner, Harry. Did you enjoy being high for that?”

He nods, glancing at you almost knowingly. “It certainly enhanced things. It’s mostly worn off for me, though.”

A sly smile finds your lips. “I could use some more.” 

“You could use some water ,” Harry practically chides, though that smile he’s wearing for you doesn’t falter. “I’ll get you some, stay here.”

With that, he leaves you standing by a marble pillar as he slides up to the crowded bar. 

Vanessa moves in beside you, poking you in the cheek with a pink fingernail. Charles seems to have gone off to do his job. 

“Someone’s going to get laid for real tonight!”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down!” You hiss, mortified. What she said was vague enough that anyone within earshot would just assume you masturbate a lot or something, but that feeling of dread in your chest just sobered you up more than the dancing had.  “He doesn’t know about that.”

“Are you going to tell him?” She asks.

You shake your head grimly. “I told him I’m a smut author.”

Vanessa scoffs loudly. “Bitch your Ao3 does not fucking count.”

God, you could kill her just as much as you could kiss her sometimes. “It was the best I could come up with, Van. I’d like to see you come up with something better if you were in my position.”

She frowns, looking at you seriously. “If you see him again after tonight you need to come clean. He seems like a catch and he seems completely enamored with you. Maybe you can actually reel this one in.”

“He’s not a fish,” you say with an eye roll. 

“No, he’s a sexy rich man who’s exactly your type.”

“I don’t care that he’s rich, you know that.”

“But you do care that he’s devilishly handsome and older than you.” 

“Boy, do I,” you say dreamily as you watch him turn from the bar with three bottles of water. 

“He doesn’t have to be a sugar daddy to be a daddy.” Vanessa sends you her signature wink at that last statement. 

You shove her playfully. “That’s enough out of you. He’s on his way back. You and I will discuss this at home.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Vanessa says with a giggle and a salute, clearly still feeling her alcohol. Then her eyes widen as she looks over your shoulder and suddenly shouts, “But I’m going home with Charles, just so you know!”

Glaring sharply, you know exactly what she’s doing despite whisper-asking her, “What are you doing?!” 

“Getting him to take you home,” she whispers back. 

As if you needed help. 

“Did I hear that you need a ride?” Harry asks, handsome as ever as he looks down at you. He looks so good that it’s overwhelming, dark hair even darker now that it’s damp from dancing, the pink flush in his cheeks slowly starting to fade. His white dress shirt seems damp in a few places and he’s rolled his sleeves up to expose his toned forearms. Harry hands you and Vanessa a bottle of water before unscrewing the cap of his own and downing several gulps with his head turned slightly. There’s that beautiful side profile again.

Christ have mercy, how are you turned on by watching someone drink water? The way his lips are pursed against the bottle, the bob of his Adam's apple as the drink flows down his throat. The little flick of his tongue on the edge of the rim to catch that last stray drop. 

Fuck .

Vanessa elbows you, and you have to literally shake your head to dislodge from the stupor he just had you in. Words? What are those?

“Uh, yes, I was just going to grab a taxi,” you say, taking a generous sip of your own water while you recover. 

“I’ve already called for my driver to come pick me up. I’m happy to take you somewhere.” Harry offers generously.

You smirk. “I distinctly recall someone wanting to get greasy food after this.”

He grins. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“I was really high, wasn’t I?”

“You were. But I liked it, and I’m craving a cheesesteak.”

“A cheesesteak it is, then.”

The two of you stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a long moment, sharing a silent mutual agreement that the rest of the night is about to be shared in each other’s company. Though, as is the delicate dance between men and women, and despite how forward Harry had been with you on the dance floor, you’ll both still skirt around the subject until it actually happens. 

*****

Next

Previous

Masterlist

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Topper’s sister (one or two years younger you pick) who does Only Fans and Rafe finds out. He subscribes and watches her content (because she’s hot and off limits since she’s Topper’s little sister) in secret, then blackmails her saying he’s gonna tell Topper. One weekend, she comes to Rafe and Topper’s place to surprise Topper for his birthday, but he’s not there and rafe blackmails her into giving him a blowjob

This is the longest work I've written in a while, I hope you enjoy

p.s. There is a possibility to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know if you are interested

Warnings: 18+, smut, blackmail, oral (m receiving),

—

After showering, Rafe tossed his towel into the hamper and fell on his bed. Topper was out with Cynthia — or maybe it was Vanessa —, which left him alone for the night. Rafe wasn’t complaining though, being alone was nice sometimes. Especially when he wanted to jerk off. 

He could have done it in the shower, but having visual material made the release better. 

Phone in hand, Rafe scrolled for something to watch. Sadly, none of the girls he was following had put up new content, so he looked for new accounts. He found a cute one, brunette with blue eyes, but she had overly huge tits and Rafe wasn’t into that — no offense to the girl. He almost went looking elsewhere when his eyes caught a familiar face.  

Rafe hit the profile and the biggest smirk turned on his lips. 

No fucking way. 

‘’Caught your dirty little secret,’’ he said to himself, his blue eyes staring at the free photoset you had to attract subscribers. Your sheer white bra left not much to the imagination and the curve of your ass had Rafe’s cock twitching. He’s been wanting to hit it since you wore that bikini at this beach parry last summer. 

Without hesitation, he subscribed and opened the first video.

You were sitting cross-legged on your dorm bed with nothing but a baby pink bodysuit, which hugged your figure perfectly. Your hard nipples were poking through the thin fabric, as if they were trying to say ‘hello’ to your viewers. You winked at the camera as your right hand slowly went down your chest, making a show of pinching your covered nipple and catching your bottom lip with your teeth as you let out a little moan. 

The sound made Rafe grip his cock and start to slowly jerk it. He was weak for nice tits…and yours were very nice. 

You pulled your other breast free from the fabric, your delicious nipple popping free as you asked the camera if they'd like to suck on them. Without waiting for an answer — not that you would be getting any since it was pre-recorded —, you looked down at it and dribbled spit onto yourself. 

 If Topper knew he was jerking off to his little sister, he would rip his head off. 

And your parents? If they knew about your secret online business, they would cancel all payments to your prestigious college and bring your ass back to Kildare. Dr. Cynthia Thornton’s daughter could not be part of the world of prostitution. It would look terrible for their name. 

Normally, Rafe loved to ruin people’s lives just for fun, but he was enjoying the view too much. All the photo-sets of you in delicate lingerie, the occasional topless ones, the close-ups of your fingers — and sometimes toys — in your pussy and the sweet moans that came from your mouth every time you were pleasuring yourself were part of his night routine. As perverted as it sounded. 

Weeks passed, and soon Topper’s birthday was coming up. The boys planned on going out to a club and celebrating there, but the plan changed when you showed up to your brother’s apartment for a birthday surprise.

‘’Where’s Top?’’ you asked, walking in like it was your own place. 

With a frown on his face, Rafe watched and closed the door behind you. ‘’At the gym with Braxton,’’ he replied. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Am I not allowed to surprise my brother for his birthday?’’ 

‘’We already have plans, and you’re not part of it.’’ 

Although Rafe had reserved a private booth, there was no way Topper would allow you to come to the club. 

Brushing off his objection, you grabbed your small suitcase and scanned the apartment. ‘’Where’s the guest bedroom?’’

‘’Here,’’ Rafe said, pointing at the couch. 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the couch.’’ 

‘’We turned the third bedroom into a gaming room. It’s the couch or the floor. You pick.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, considering your options. The floor got crossed immediately — women do not sleep on floors. The couch, although soft and comfortable looking, had probably been used to have sex. It was a college boys apartment. 

‘’Then, I’ll be taking your bedroom.’’ 

 ‘’Absolutely not, Princess. This is my apartment, I'm not sleeping on the couch.’’

You crossed your arms, challenging his resistance. ‘’Come on, Rafe. I’m only staying for two days. I need to be back for Sunday, I have—’’ 

‘’Video content to film?’’ 

You gave Rafe a confused look to conceal your inner panic. ‘’A paper due Monday,’’ you said.

Rafe leaned against the couch, his eyes scanning you up and down. ‘’I know about your dirty little secret,’’ he said smugly, explicit images of yourself flashing in his head. ‘’I found your Only Fans account last month. By the way, you look better in light pink than sapphire blue, it washes you out.’’

At this very moment, you wished you could disappear with a snap of your fingers. With the details he was providing, it was impossible that Rafe was bluffing. You thought your account was well hidden, that your username was well thought and would never give you away. How did he find you? 

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, looking at Rafe with knives for eyes. 

‘’You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?’’ 

‘’Did you tell Topper?’’ 

Fear started creeping in your stomach at the thought of Topper knowing about that part of your life. 

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Your secret’s safe with me…on one condition.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. Nothing was ever free with Rafe. He always wanted something in exchange. 

The corner of his mouth curled and you shook your head immediately, easily guessing what he had in mind. ‘’Absolutely not.’’ 

‘’Come on. I’m keeping my mouth shut, the least you can do is open yours.’’ 

Your jaw dropped at his crude words. ‘’That’s blackmail!’’ 

Rafe shrugged, not caring that he was playing dirty. ‘’You do what you want. I’m not gonna be the one in trouble after I make a little call to Topper to tell him his little sister opens her legs for money—’’ 

‘’Fine,’’ you said, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, this was more embarrassing than anything you had done on camera. 

Swallowing your pride, you kneeled before him, trying to ignore the cocky winning smile on Rafe’s face as you came face to face with his clothed lower region.  He was already thick behind his sweatpants — you could see the outline through the gray fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his sweatpants down, uncovering his cock and balls. You gulped at the sight. He was long and thicker than average, which explained where his confidence came from — aside from his daddy’s big money.

‘’Like what you see?’’ Rafe asked, proud of his appendage. 

Without breaking your annoyance, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t let him know that you were impressed by his size. He would never let you live this one down.

You wrapped a soft palm around his shaft, letting your thumb stroke over his tip and back down until he reached full hardness. Reluctantly, you dipped your head and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting the pre-cum that leaked from it before going to the base of his shaft. You didn’t take everything into your mouth — yet —, but tried to fit as much as you could. 

A soft groan left Rafe's mouth, feeling the pleasure of yours. His hand came to the back of your head, gripping your hair into a ponytail and encouraging you to continue your movements up and down. You sped up your pace, saliva spilling from your mouth as precum leaked into your mouth and ran down your throat, secretly starting to enjoy yourself. 

You clenched your thighs together, wetness slowly pooling in your panties. 

Above you, Rafe moaned, his grip tightening on your hair as you slid down as deep as you could manage. ‘’That’s it, baby. Put that mouth to good use.’’ 

Had your mouth not been busy, you would have told him to get fucked. Instead, you let him fuck your mouth like you were a inflatable doll from a sex shop until your jaw was starting to ache and you had to pull away. 

Unsatisfied with your ungranted break, Rafe tapped his cock against your cheek, smearing pre-cum and saliva on your face. ‘’Did I tell you to stop?’’

‘’No, but—’’ 

‘’Then get back to business.’’ He pressed his cock against your mouth, but you didn’t let him in. ‘’Or…maybe I should call Topper and send him a link to your side business?’’

You sat on your heels, letting out a defeated sigh. ‘’My jaw hurts, okay? I can’t anymore,’’ you explained, although doubting Rafe would be compassionate. He didn't care about you, he just wanted to empty his balls. ‘’But maybe we can’t look at other options?’’ You pulled down the front of your shirt, exposing your bra to him.

Rafe's eyes darted down your chest, catching his bottom lip between his teeth knowing what was beneath your bra. ‘’I'm listening.’’

But before the negotiations could begin, you heard the apartment door opening: Topper was back. Quickly, you fixed your shirt and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand while Rafe pulled his sweatpants back up.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage  @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc  @pedrosprincess  @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb  @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom  @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey  @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld  @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble  @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

[latetothehudsonandrexparty]

Random thoughts on the "Hudson & Rex Official" FB group

I never liked the fact that the "official" FB fan group was apparently moderated by some people who worked on the show. I know not all the moderators worked on the show but clearly some did and a very high profile person on the show is sometimes in the comments section, which affects the dynamic of the group. Even back in season 6, any fans who posted about how they were disappointed at the lack of Charah scenes or the disappearance of the relationship/personal stories (what ever happened to Karma and Vanessa???), were met with "Stop being a negative!!!" type of comments. And now of course, that the very worst (and ridiculous) thing has happened, no one is allowed to talk about it on there or if you do, you are accused of negativity, meanness, harassment (which I have seen ZERO of, btw) and basically told to shut up and keep watching. And oh my gawd, if I see another "it's just a cliff hanger" comment! 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

Anyway, I have left that group for all of the above reasons. You know what's more harmful than "negativity"? Toxic positivity. That's what.

[dgaftilwedie]

Wait I'm so confused, what's the thing going on with Swiss? Is he leaving the band?

idk if you're aware of the allegations, but i wanna mention them just in case!!

about 6 months ago, a 15 year old came out on twitter alledging that jutty taylor had groped her at a meet and greet. the whole situation was really strange. her story didn't line up with the event (she claimed she took a picture with jutty before a concert, he only took pictures with fans after the concert). it was also a pretty big red flag that the allegations came from a new account with no profile picture. jutty came out and tried to clear things up, saying that he didn't remember this happening, but if made her uncomfortable, he wasn't trying to at all and he was sorry that this happened in the first place.

jutty was sent a plethora of death threats by ghost fans on twitter and tiktok because of this situation. i believe he came out and apologized a second time, too. other fans feel that if jutty was truly guilty, tobias wouldn't have invited him back for the music videos / tour.

lo and behold, swiss hasn't been seen on stage for a couple of the recent rituals. it was confirmed by vanessa warwick that swiss has left the tour for "personal reasons". of course, a lot of people are speculating that either 1) he was actually guilty, charges are being pressed, etc. or 2) the threats got the best of him and he decided to step down from the band.

[holy3cake]

Hi lovelies! Welcome to my little cabin on Tumblr! Are you here to see some content about horror, British TV shows, medieval drama or beautiful men? Either that, or you just got lost along the way hehe! But now that you're here, please do browse at your own pace! I'm Holly, and I'll be your navigator for this journey! Just a couple of notices before you take off:

THIS BLOG CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT- ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

This blog also contains an unhealthy amount of Harry Gilby and Jacob Dudman content, I can't stress this enough, so don't be surprised if you come across their lovely faces MULTIPLE TIMES.

I am currently posting/participating in The Last Kingdom fandom, but you'll see various different content as you scroll through.

I do take fanfiction requests, but please know that time frames are a bit strange at the moment due to personal issues. I love receiving them though, so just let me know and I'd be happy to discuss it with you!

Okay, I think that covers everything! Fasten your seatbelts, and enjoy the carousel of crack! :) I'm slowly updating/adding links so those will start to appear over the next few days!

The Last Kingdom Moodboards (ALL PICTURES CREDITED TO PINTEREST, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP TO THESE)

A Cinderella Story AU, Aethelstan x Osbert

Spill your Sin Inside Me, Aethelstan Solo Board

Coffee Shop AU, Aethelstan x Osbert

Love Rosie AU, Aethelstan x Osbert

The White Lotus AU, Multiple TLK Characters

Tarzan AU, Stiorra x Sigtryggr (@paula-in-dreamland's vision!)

Erotic Atmosphere, Stiorra x Sigtryggr

Aquamarine AU, Cynlaef x Aethelstan x Osbert

Just My Luck AU, Aethelstan x Osbert

Courageous Man, Aldhelm (PICTURES CREDITED TO @lord-aldhelm for Aldhelm here)

Hairspray AU, Multiple TLK Characters

Miscellaneous Moodboards (ALL PICTURES CREDITED TO PINTEREST, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP TO THESE)

My Anglo-Saxon Empire, Jacob Dudman

Falling In Love, My OC Turketyl and Dunstan

Our Little Family, My OC Eadgyth (based on TLK) and Thorinn

SMUT ABCs for The Last Kingdom

Aethelstan & Osbert (Both on one post :))

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

You can find my fanfics on Tumblr and AO3, my user on AO3 is also holy3cake (profile linked for you!)

THE LAST KINGDOM FANFICTION

Dressed in Sin (Rated E)- Aethelstan x Osbert (moodboard + extra details here)

In His Father's footsteps (Rated E)- Aethelstan x Osbert, CURRENT PROJECT! (moodboard + extra details here)

Alfred's Christmas Wish (Rated M)- Multiple TLK Couples (moodboard + extra details here)

A Lesson in Restraint (Rated M)- Aldhelm x Aethelred (details on AO3 linked on left)

BBC BOARDERS FANFICTION

Hello, Trouble (Rated E)- Rupert x Reader (moodboard + extra details here)

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S FANFICTION

Your Dreams are My Reality (Rated E)- Mike x Vanessa (details on AO3 linked on left)

SEX EDUCATION FANFICTION

Holy Halloween (Rated M)- Adam x Rahim (details on AO3 linked on left)

13 REASONS WHY FANFICTION

Embrace the better side of yourself (Rated M)- Charlie X Alex, Luke x Robby (details on AO3 linked on left)

This is Your Home Now (Rated M)- Charlie x Alex, Estela x Tyler (details on AO3 linked on left)

Reminiscing (Rated T)- Charlie x Alex (details on AO3 linked on left)

I wish I could understand you (Rated M)- Charlie x Alex, Charlie x Monty (details on AO3 linked on left)

One chance to make a first impression. Or maybe 100? (Rated G)- Charlie x Alex (details on AO3 linked on left)

Cirque du Léopard (Rated T)- Charlie x Alex (details on AO3 on left)

A Release of Toxic Masculinity (Rated T)- Charlie x Alex (details on AO3 on left)

The Best Aphrodisiac? Cookies. (Rated E)- Charlie x Alex (details on AO3 on left)

The Eyes can Deceive, But the Heart never Lies (Rated T)- Charlie x Alex, Alex x Zach (details on AO3 on left)

Bryce Threatens Monty- A deleted scene- (Rated M)- Gen fic (details on AO3 on left)

Domestic Bliss (Rated M)- Charlie x Alex, Estela x Tyler (details on AO3 on left)

Healing takes time, but together we fight (Rated T)- Charlie x Alex, Jessica x Justin (details on AO3 on left)

One man’s worst week is one man’s greatest rescue. (Rated M)- Charlie x Alex, Estela x Tyler (MY FIRST EVER PUBLISHED FIC HEHEHE, details on AO3 on left :D)

ARMY OF THE DEAD FANFICTION

Take care of me? (Rated E)- Ludwig x Vanderohe, Maria x Scott, Chambers x Guzman (details on AO3 on left)

SQUID GAME FANFICTION

Abdul's Alyssums (Rated T)- Ali x Sangwoo (details on AO3 on left)

Deok-Su, I think we have a problem (Rated E)- Ali x Sangwoo x Gihun (details on AO3 on left)

Don’t ever betray me again (Rated E) - Ali x Sangwoo (details on AO3 on left)

ALL FANFIC CATEGORIES WILL BE ADDED OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS- PLEASE SEE AO3 FOR FURTHER FANFICS :)

[urween]

Soft Hanky | Steve Kemp x ftm!reader | english version

notes : written with a reader with a chest operation in mind

summary: for the good of his business, Steve Kemp learns of the existence of a special category of people. So he finds a young transgender man and sets up his usual plan. Problem is, this man hides many surprises.

⚠︎ warnings : intentionally clumsy description of transgender identity, transgender idolatry, Steve Kemp is a red flag on his own (cannibalism, violence, manipulation, etc.), kinks (degradation, submission, prey/predator)

special thanks and credits to @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian who nicely helped me with this story's translation because it was originally written in french, my native language.

French version here

- Description in the second person

- 2 415 words

You had thought it was an accident, maybe even a sign of destiny. It must be said that your love life did not stretch over miles, not even a few meters. So coming face to face with such a handsome stranger, smiling and interested, it had been a kind of miracle in your eyes, and unfortunately for you, he knew it. Steve, that was his first name, quite classic, nothing original, and a touch of déjà vu. Yet he had caught you in a few seconds, barely had he started asking you questions that your cheeks had become as red as the seats in the movie theater where you had met.

Bad luck for you, destiny had nothing to do with this sudden romance. Steve had been following you for two days, mainly learning about your most frequented places and especially the people you went there with. There the trap was being dug, you had no one, and that was your major asset. No friends, no family, not even a goldfish that would miss you. You were a being living on Earth without human ties, which made you a ghost, the perfect victim.

“No, I don't have a family, it's quite complicated at that level,” you had naively confirmed to him during your first date. Then, “let's say acquaintances rather than friends” he had managed to make you confess. Finally the grand finale, “It's weird to say since I've only known you for a short time but I really like you, Steve.”

The smile that greeted you at this declaration had made your cheeks boil, and then the man in front of you tried an approach – thinking that it was the perfect moment – he placed his hand over yours on the restaurant table. 

Your reaction only encouraged him, and a few moments later you were kissing on a street corner. Everything was going wonderfully, everything was perfect, on time, and even pleasant. All that was left was to tell you– “Wait I... excuse me I think this is a little too much all at once for me”, you had cut him off as you were heading home. He hadn't let anything show, only smiled before reassuring you, “it's nothing we have all the time right?” He should have expected it, you had been different from the beginning, it couldn’t all be that simple.

Actually, you weren’t originally on his list. Vanessa, Penny, Kate. But not your name, not a man. Women were in demand, sought after, and better, not men.

Then one day, when he was deleting the Instagram account of a previous candidate, he came across a post: International Transgender Day of Visibility. The bright colors caught his attention and since he had nothing else to do, he wandered through the topic. Several photos of people involved, but nothing particularly interesting, they had nothing he couldn’t find elsewhere. When suddenly, a photo stopped him dead in his tracks. A pencil drawing of a beautiful androgynous being. Steve clicked on the creator’s profile picture and came across you. You had very few publications, but enough for him to choose you. Your face, your figure, your thighs, hips. There was something special about you, different from women, different from men, different from cisgender people. In your biography, the transgender tricolor flag proudly stood, accompanied by three letters "ftm". It didn't take Steve long to put together all the pieces of the puzzle, you were exceptional. The perfect blend of the harmonious beauty of a woman with the sublime calm strength of a man. Your body was splendid, your features divine. Your taste could only be unequaled.

So, in a few hours, you were first on his list. Your angelic face was going to drive buyers crazy, and you were already driving Steve crazy. The night he discovered you, he didn't sleep a wink, looking for all the information he could about you and what you represented. He wasn't used to feeling so involved, but you were different, that was probably why.

That's how a week later, you met the captivating Steve Kemp when you left your weekly movie session. You were surprised to come across a man so attractive, interested, and above all educated on the subjects that were important to you. He knew the queer terms, laughed while saying that he had visited your dream place, or was curbing ignorance by discovering your name.

But besides this physical specificity, he had – with surprise – discovered that you were not as fast as the others. You never invited him to your place, dodging the innuendos of an upcoming date there. You were open to his advances and yet something always seemed to make you back down at the fateful moment. He had first thought that you were worried about your “special” type, that you were afraid to talk to him about it. But you didn’t give the impression that the subject was sensitive, on the contrary, you spoke about it lightly. So the problem came from elsewhere. Steve had had to dig, but the source had finally become visible. Everything came from a more intimate area. The way you bit your lip when he complimented you, crossed your legs at certain insistent glances, moaned weakly in your kisses. He had thought it was basic behavior, you liked him, it was obvious. Then, he had noticed your slight downward tilt of the head, your fleeting eyes, your weakening muscles. Your body was submitting to him, consciously or not, you were reacting in a primal way to him. This conclusion had jumped out at him during your last kiss. He had gently pinned you against one of the exterior walls of the Asian restaurant, his hand at the junction of your neck and shoulder, your body had seemed to soften in his embrace. You let yourself be controlled by him, protected, supported. He had then accentuated your oral exchange, and everything had been confirmed. Your body needed to be submissive, and vulnerable in powerful and protective arms.

After realizing this, Steve knew how to find the problem: you were not comfortable with this fantasy. It made sense, you had only known the man who made you feel this way for a few days, it was obvious that you did not want to leave your body to a near stranger.

But every problem had a solution, and he had found it.

Wet from your recent shower, your hand grabbed your cell phone placed on the edge of your sink. Steve has just sent you several messages.

- Good morning cherub - A coffee to start the day?

You replied enthusiastically, telling him that you gladly accepted his invitation and in a few seconds you received a response.

- I can pick you up in about twenty minutes - And if that's okay with you, could I show you the famous painting I've at home?🦣

Your smile accompanied you as you put on clean clothes. His proposal tempted you greatly but there was a catch. Spending time with Steve always pleased you, however going to his place necessarily meant skipping a step. He wasn't the type to rush you, but you wanted to and from your exchanges, he seemed to want to too. With a hint of doubt, you grabbed your phone again to answer him:

- Ok for your place, but only to see the painting ;)

Only two streets from your building, Steve sketched a vague smile as he typed a quick reply. He suspected that you were going to react like that, but you had nevertheless fallen into the trap and that was the most important thing. The plan was not to sleep with you anyway, only to take you back to a safe place, to his place. He never slept with his targets, because he didn't particularly want to and especially. After all, they came to his place without any worries, without needing to go that far.

The car ride had been longer than you would have imagined. Between the small paths and narrow roads, it took you about an hour and a half in total to finally arrive at what must have been Steve's place. A little – a lot, but admitting it would be strange – lost in the middle of a thick forest of all kinds of fir trees, stood a long and large building. You got out of the car first, wanting to have time to examine the house before going in.

To be honest, a lot of branches and vegetation camouflaged the interior, you could only make out modern and rectangular lines that ended up disappearing behind tree trunks. But despite that, you found the house quite pretty from the outside.

Steve arrived by surprise behind you, making you jump and let out a little unmanly cry. His laughter mixed with yours made a few birds flutter next to you, immediately you worried about the possible noise that your cry could have made. But Steve reassured you immediately, placing a hand on your shoulder he smiled at you saying: “No need to worry, no neighbors around, no one to complain about the noise”. You were relieved at once, answering something like “Oh great” without knowing that this detail was not favorable to you.

Guided by the warm hand of the owner, you let yourself be carried to the front door – even if there must have been several given the size of the house –. Normally, you would have been somewhat suspicious of this size. Such a large home meant a large income, Steve had told you that he worked as a plastic surgeon and that could explain this detail. However, your attention was not drawn to his income, nor even to the possible danger of a house so far from civilization. To tell the truth, once you had crossed the door, you were hypnotized by the decoration. Everything was extremely dark, in shades of brown and black. There was only a minimum of light, and even the windows did not give enough light to be able to see the four ends of the kitchen open to the living room. The walls were very high, dark too, only interspersed with a few touches of beige. From the inside, you forgot about the rent of the accommodation, you let yourself be devoured by the very special atmosphere. If you took each little detail apart, the decoration was nothing extraordinary, but put together it was as if you were entering a kind of immersive painting. Surely because of the uneven light outside or the floating smell of incense, but you had the feeling of being cut off from the outside world. It was strangely pleasant.

“I'm not offering you water,” Steve intervened, nodding at your still-hot coffee in your hands. You smiled shyly, shaking your head from left to right. Even though he was driving, Steve had finished his drink in less than twenty minutes. One hand on the steering wheel, another still on his paper cup – as if he was afraid of losing it – he chained small or large sips of caffeine as if it were an elixir of youth. You hadn't asked yourself any questions at the time, assuming that he hadn't slept well or that something was getting into his head. Once your little observation was complete, you offered some of your coffee to your interlocutor – which he accepted – then you headed towards the famous painting that had brought you here. It was nothing special, just a large horizontal canvas full of raised paint strokes. You weren't even an art expert, but when Steve had told you about this work you had been curious, and throughout your conversations you had wanted to see it in person. “It's like seeing lots of people live,” he had confessed to you “as if I had the superpower to transform bodies into colorful souls”. His description had intrigued you, you had wanted to put an image on this power, and since Steve didn't have a photo of it what could be better than seeing it in real life?

“I would have rather said that they die,” you began, tilting your head, “look at their positions, it looks like they're being sucked in or crying, your accusing finger accompanied your analysis by drawing abstract shapes in the air, and then the colors are disappearing, the bright orange becomes crimson”.

Too absorbed in your investigation, you didn't pay attention to Steve standing behind you. Your two silhouettes were in perfect alignment, bland and undefined because of the darkness, seen from the front you seemed to disappear into the icy build of the man towering over you by several centimeters. His eyes ran slowly over your exposed and naked neck, you're drawn back. They imagined the tempting curves that were hidden under two or three layers of fabric – so easily torn, even with the tips of his teeth –. Your shoulders were relaxed, and you were confident. You were just looking at a painting, without suspecting the threat that lay behind you or the evidence hidden behind the paint. You were just looking at the work that a man you liked had at home. Without thinking for a moment that behind you this same man would be desperately a handkerchief soaked in GHB. Without thinking that his arm was stuck in this position when it should be wrapped around your neck. Without imagining the flood of thoughts that were rushing through this man’s mind at the same time. You were just admiring a painting that he had told you about, that was close to his heart, that he had never spoken about to anyone except you. While he was petrified by doubt. “I think I wouldn't like to have this superpower, to see people's souls,” your voice declared, “I wouldn't like to know who's good or bad, it's too volatile,” you continued, taking a step back, “and then bad people are just misunderstood, and I like trying to understand them.” Your heel hit the tip of a polished shoe, you thought you were going to fall backward. Your back was stopped by a boiling bust, and a smile returned to your lips. A hanky fell to the ground and as you bent down to catch it, Steve’s firm hand stopped your movement.

“Leave it here,” a voice you had never heard so lightly sighed, “it won’t be of any use anymore.”

Really want to do a part two, who knows maybe one day?

pictures : Pinterest

banners : @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

[cometcrystal]

for the anon earlier. some random pnf headcanons 💯 i might have talked about some of these before but i'll take any chance to talk about stuff i like

i've DEFINITELY talked about this one before but as adults phineas and isabella are divorced besties with a son. they love each other soooo much but the romance part just didn't really work.

yall also already know i hc jeremy as bi but i find it worth mentioning because it was one of my first lgbt headcanons EVER after i figured out i could do that. buford and baljeet were probably first.

eliza and nicolette are endgame. do you see my vision

it doesn't matter to the show whatsoever but i do have ideas for what happened to mr flynn and mrs fletcher. in my timeline mr flynn was abusive and linda left him when she was pregnant with phineas, and mrs fletcher died at some point. idk how. ferb was too young to remember her. i have not worked out how close she and lawrence were but she had green hair

phineas and ferb cure multiple cancers in 10th grade and make the patents open-source

one of my early internet friends turned the drummer in jeremy's band into an oc named hugo.... he was in a situationship with jenny that lasted well past their 30s

speaking of jenny i think she and django disappeared for a bit because their rich artist dad took them to. like. greece or something. for the remainder of the summer and theyre just living their best life on a veranda on the other side of the planet until the school year starts

phineas, ferb, and baljeet COULD graduate VERY early but they purposely stay in the same grade as their friends because they love them. once the acts/sats/ap exams come around though its over for you hoes.

candace and stacy went to horse camp (a week long program during the summer teaching kids to ride horses) every summer until high school. at which point they decided it was For Babies. but they're both still horse girls deep down.

since we know that jeremy has liked candace longer than she's liked him, i think he was a really shy kid. he was too nervous to even look at her some days. when she gave him that pencil that one time, he didn't even say anything. he broke out of his shell later and became a friendly young man but candace still made him nervous. etc etc.

xavier and fred are movie buffs. they're usually logging one film per day. if letterboxd still exists on the future their profiles would be legendary.

jeremy picked the name fred. he was fine with candace already having names picked out, but once they found out they were having twins, she texted him a link to a baby name website and told him to pick his favorite. He picked Fred.

jeremy has written an entire album about candace and its all shit that sounds like Chasing Cars and candace LOVES IT

stacy interning at owca is how she meets her girlfriend vanessa and also how she meets her future wife in uruguay

buford and isabella have ice cream romcom sleepovers and nobody else is invited this is THEIR bonding time

IN MY TIMELINE JEREMY AND COLTRANE WERE AT THE ROBOT RIOT IN THE ORANGE TREEHOUSE ROBOT WHILE CANDACE AND STACY WERE IN THE PINK ONE. #COPING

sometimes the flynn fletcher kids would spend entire days at the antique shop before candace was old enough to watch the boys

this isn't really a headcanon but i want to see some isabella and jeremy bro moments. Because of In love with #TwoCrazyRedheads

Thats the only ones i can think of right now. My hands are shaking

[silentwonderlocks]

Ambrosia's Kiss Pt. 2 - S.R x F!Reader.

A/n: I'm so happy to finally be updating this! it's been sitting in my drafts for waaay too long. The title card is made by me! Hopefully, everyone who comes across this story likes it! Feedback is always appreciated!

Summary: Spencer and the reader talk about the past while the case unfolds new information.

Warnings: mentions of violence, talks of deadly chemicals, typical criminal minds, use of Y/n, slow burn, use of nicknames, Spencer and Y/n denying feelings.

Words: 4.k+

Read part one here!

________________________________

Once the plane was up and gliding smoothly in the air, the team huddled, continuing their talk about the profile. What they could come up with now was that the unsub was the submissive type of killer. He used less aggressive ways to kill, and he went after low-risk victims as well, so he had a type. Where the bodies were placed, his comfort zone was huge. Both parks are at equal distances, about 20 minutes by car. But it wasn’t enough to go off of, so Hotch split up the team for when they landed. Spencer and Morgan would head to the most recent crime scene while Y/n and Emily would go to the morgue. Rossi and Hotch would talk to the grieving families for helpful information. For now, everyone was just reading over the file and enjoying the peace before the chaos.

Y/n sat in her window seat, the little table in front of her pulled down so she could rest her tablet. Next to the tablet was a notebook, filled with scribbled-down notes about previous cases and this one included. Some of the writing was theories of what kind of unsub they were dealing with and others were trying to figure out the meaning behind certain details. At the moment, she had daffodils, a black dress, poison, and red hair written down; those seemed to be the most essential details that caught her eye. Y/n was staring at the photo of Vanessa Garrett before she succumbed to her fate. A happy woman living life in her 20s, a bright young college student. On her way to becoming a full-time EMT, such a sad ending for a young woman. The agent sighs softly, shutting off her tablet, and rubs her eyes feeling the strain of the screen affect her. Y/n did this too often, getting caught up in past events. She needed to focus on the present so they could all catch this monster of a human. Swimming in her thoughts, she finally returns to reality when a hand grips her shoulder in a soft squeeze.

Y/n pulls her hands away from her face to turn towards the person touching her shoulder, she smiles when it’s Spencer. He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed together like he’s analyzing her, a look of concern present.

“Is your head hurting, Dragonfly?” Spencer’s nickname for Y/n since he first saw the little pin in her hair. Only he didn’t start calling her that until after she wore it almost daily. There were only 20 days that he could remember her not wearing it, and it was usually because she forgot. The pin was a gift from her nephew and she considered it her good luck charm and believed it would keep her safe. Something Spencer didn’t understand entirely but he adored how she loved her family.

Y/n smiled at his question and slowly shook her head, then removed her bag from the seat next to her. Then pats it with her hand, and Spencer needs no other hints to take a seat by her.

“Not yet, Lucky.” is Her nickname for Spencer since he was always wearing mismatched socks and when she questioned him on why. When he told her that his grandma considered it good luck to wear different socks, well it stuck like glue. The only memory he had left of her before she passed away when he was younger.

Spencer’s face twists quickly into a bright smile then proceeds to rummage through his messenger bag like an excited child making Y/n snort fondly.

“What are you-” Her voice is cut off when suddenly, a big book of flowers is handed to her. The title is in medium-sized cursive letters saying: ‘Flowerpedia: The unofficial guide to a flower expert.’ There was watercolor art of petals floating on the cover, it was still in a near mint condition. This book was bought recently, there were still remnants of the price sticker on the bottom corner of the cover. She blinks a bit slightly confused, and the bright smile on Spencer’s face isn’t helping so she opens up the book skimming along the words.

Inside the book were all kinds of different facts and stories about flowers. There were four sections of the book, one of all the flowers in the world, their symbolism them, myths and figures associated with flowers, and lastly was the uses in full detail of each flower.

“You seemed to enjoy the little flower fact from earlier, so I thought you might enjoy this book! I already read through it and the section about the symbolism is fascinating. I had no idea that roses with different colors had significant meanings. Like red is for romance, yellow is companionship, and orange is for friendship” Spencer rambled on, his brown eyes sparkling as he spoke.

He was so proud of his gift, though part of it was out of spite. The thought of that bouquet on Y/n’s desk seemed to keep taunting him. If someone tried to date her, Spencer was sure Y/n would have told him about it. They almost told each other everything, and he knew Y/n was an avid book reader. Indeed that was better than a flower bouquet, right? Spencer had to pause in his thoughts, why was he trying to compete with a man he didn’t know existed? He never even asked her about it, so why should he care?

‘Besides that fact, Y/n is my friend and coworker nothing more..’ If that was true then why did his thoughts make his heart hurt?

“Wow Spencer, this is amazing. I love it~ So..is that lavender fact in here? Or was that Spencer-only knowledge?” Y/n’s sweet voice made Spencer regain focus, he chuckled softly at her comment.

“Oh! There are so many lavender facts in there, like here. It should be on page 256” Spencer doesn’t wait to grab the book from Y/n’s hand making her snort fondly once more. He begins to flip through pages until he reaches the designated number. Using his skinny finger, Spencer begins to underline the words speaking along.

“Lavandula angustifolia, most commonly known as Lavender is..” He pauses when he looks at Y/n. She wasn’t looking at him, she was just staring back at the tablet. Since the team huddle, Y/n seemed to be on edge slightly by the newest case. Spencer frowned and closed the book, placing it next to her tablet. Then he grabbed the tablet, slipping it into his messenger back, and that’s when he got a reaction.

“Hey! Spencer, I need that!”

“Not right now...what’s wrong?”

Y/n paused, her mouth was slightly open then she closed it. She took a moment before letting out a sigh and a frown. Her eyes were filled with caution but there was also the need for comfort that radiated from her.

“Do you ever have a bad feeling about a case?? Like you want it to go well, you want to believe that we’ll save the day right? I know, we don’t always but I hate having this feeling of…” Y/n trailed off having trouble finding the right words to say.

“False hope?” He answers and asks for her.

“Yes..not only that but this feeling that... Something will happen and we can’t stop it..”

Spencer stayed silent, he was never good at being the comforter. He needed it from others, although he had been through more than the other group members. Spencer still didn’t properly know how to act sometimes. He had been in her spot so many times, Spencer remembered he started thinking like that after Tobias Hankel, George Foyett, hell any case that threatened him or his team. He understood her concerns, yet he could never comfort himself like he wanted to do with her.

“I try not to think about the possibilities..” Spencer started before Y/n cut him off.

“Bullshit, you are always thinking, Lucky,” She says, not as an insult but more of a plea. Y/n wanted honest thoughts from him.

“Heh. I used to get those feelings and I still do from time to time. The idea of if we were doing more harm than good? If we were helping people even when we had to let the unsub go or they got away. If constantly being around suffering was worth it to see a happy ending…” Spencer’s voice lowered into a soft tone. One that was conflicted with himself.

“And…was it?”

“Sometimes...Sometimes I just wanted to go home and forget what I had seen” Y/n frowned at his words, knowing how ironic it was, Spencer wanted to forget but with that memory of his. He would always be haunted by something in his past.

She offers her hand to Spencer, palm up. A friendly gesture that Spencer accepted remarkably. He may have hated germs and touches but always enjoyed Y/n’s interactions. In comfortable silence, they held each other’s hand until Spencer broke it.

“What brought this up, Dragonfly? You were fine this morning.”

“This case bothers me, rubs me in the wrong way. He’s killing these women but treating them like they are…”

“Trophies?”

“Yes..or like a collection. He takes these women and doesn’t degrade them but makes them into..enchantresses? Just sickens me.”

“He’s clearly showing signs of some delusion; we had a similar case way back. A brother and little sister, the mother was hospitalized for chopping off her daughter’s limb. About how it would make her less appealing to the devil. The mother eventually died in a fire at the hospital. The son had delusions that he saw certain women as wives of the devil just like his mother” Spencer begins an intense look at his features as if the memory just happened yesterday.

“He was poisoning these women with pure nicotine, soaking it in these dresses from a play. Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor. Then, they would suffocate to death from the toxin. His mind became so broken that he believed his sister was chosen as a wife. Luckily, we caught him in time before his sister could suffer.”

“Oh my god..that’s..awful.”

Spencer nods then sighs running a hand through his hair.

“There have been worse ones..but anyway, do you like the book?” He asks, deciding to change the subject.

“Oh yeah! I love it. I can’t wait to learn about some of my favorite flowers. Who knows, this might help in this case.” Y/n grins at Spencer, who shrugs with an equally stupid grin.

“Maybe it will.” Their hands still intertwined perfectly comfortably.

‐---------------------------------------------------

The weather in Warren Valley was bright and warm, but the rain seemed to drizzle over the town despite the sunshine. Due to the rain and sun, a light mist also covered the roads making Emily grumble, who was driving herself and Y/n to Warren Valley’s morgue. They needed to see the victim's body for any more evidence they could use for the profile. Y/n smiled at Emily’s scoff, looking up from her map in the passenger seat.

“What? You don’t like rain?” Y/n asked, looking back and forth between the misty road and Emily’s focused face. Emily cracked a smile back, keeping her eyes in front of her. She always enjoyed Y/n’s company, seeing her as a good friend. Many girls' nights out and hangovers that came with them proved enough.

“Not when it’s covering up the road, I like the ability to see. Makes living a lot easier, don’t you think?” She joked, her eyes breaking away for a moment to look at Y/n. In her lap was the big book of flowers that Spencer had given earlier, a bookmark already in it. Emily couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

“Heh, compared to some of the things I’ve seen in the last few years. Yeaahh, I’ll take the mist. More appealing to look at.” A soft laugh escaped the two women then soon, a comfortable silence washed over them for a few moments.

“So.. I saw the flowers on your desk. Seeing someone finally?” Emily asked, a teasing smile creeping its way to her face.

Y/n scoffed, then laughed and shook her head at Emily’s comment. A light smile on her face as she answered back.

“No, the flowers are for my sister. It was her birthday, and I wanted to ensure she knew I didn’t forget.”

Emily hummed in response with a slow nod, apparently unhappy with the answer. Y/n raised an eyebrow at Emily and nudged her with her elbow.

“What?”

“Well, Spencer gave you a book about flowers.” Emily gestures to the book on Y/n’s lap. “ You both were holding hands earlier on the jet and according to Rossi, he saw you two talking about flowers earlier. We all saw the flowers on the desk..” She trails off slowly, waiting for Y/n to pick up the pieces.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed at Emily’s words, and she sat back in the seat, letting herself sink into the cushion. This wasn’t the first time that the team had asked or assumed that Spencer or her had made a move on one other. The time Spencer asked Y/n after a long case week if she wanted to come along with him to see his mom only because he needed the mental support, and didn’t feel comfortable asking the others.

“Spencer and I are not dating, every time you guys assume you’re always wrong, Spencer is just an excellent friend.” Y/n responds finally with a smile, but there’s a pain in her eyes. Luckily Emily is focused on driving that she doesn’t see, it doesn’t stop her from hearing the sorrow in Y/n’s tone.

“Every time you tell me that, your voice gets sad.” Emily points with concern laced in her voice.

“....” Y/n didn’t know when it first happened. It started with the little butterflies in her stomach when he would smile. Some days, she would be looking at him and admiring his beauty, he was always handsome to her, but now her looks were endearing at most. It was normal one day the next like she woke up and saw the bigger picture.

Y/n had boundaries, though; she knew of Maeve, his old girlfriend, and how her fate happened. Spencer had told her a few stories, but the subject always became hard for him to open up about. Whatever else she knew was because the team was helping to fill in the blanks. Maybe it had to do with it being almost a year and a half since her death. Y/n concluded that Maeve had to be the love of his life, so if Spencer was ever to love again, she doubted it would be her. He found love outside of work once before and would do it again.

“You need to talk to him about it, let him know before you regret it” Emily spoke again trying to give advice.

Y/n shook her head again, then waved her hand, trying to dismiss Emily. Her focus was now looking out the window.

“Spencer doesn’t need to know about this. I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable or awkward.”

“I know it’s hard to talk to him about this bu-”

“Emily, I appreciate it but, I want to focus on this case. We can talk about this later.” Y/n cuts her off, just wanting to end the conversation for now. It was making her head hurt, Great now she would have a migraine later.

No answer from Emily except a soft sigh. She decided to drop the subject for now, but she wouldn’t forget about it. The rest of the ride was in silence until the car stopped at the parking lot of the morgue. Slipping the book into her bag, Y/n and Emil exited the car. Once inside the building, Y/n and Emily were greeted by an older man in his late 50s with sandy blonde hair, clearly with years of experience sunken in his face. He wore glasses along with a friendly smile to the two agents.

“SSA Prentiss and SSA L/n?” He asked, then proceeded to give a nod and offer his hand out for a handshake.

Emily is the first to engage with the shake, and Y/n is next. “My name is Dr. Franklin. Your superior SSA Hotch told me you would be coming. Please follow me, ladies.” The silence lasted for a few seconds as the trio walked down the hallway and into a set of double doors.

“What can you tell us about the victim?” Emily asks first as they approach the medical table.

A look of grimace and sorrow washes over Dr. Franklin’s face, he turns to his right to pick up a clipboard. His eyes scan over the paper as he proceeds to speak.

“ Well, the tox screen returned, and I’ll let you see it yourself.” Dr. Franklin says handing the clipboard to Y/n. She looks over her eyebrows furrowing together while Emily looks over at Caylee

“Lycorine and Coniine? Not the usual chemicals we find, any idea how she could have gotten these into her system?”

“Well, based on the chemical compound we found. It looks like your suspect is taking the coniine and mixing it with the lycorine. Your victim was severely dehydrated more than likely due to the poison. ” Dr. Franklin responds as he waits for the two agents.

“And what exactly are those chemicals?” Emily asks, raising an eyebrow.

Before Dr. Franklin could say another word, Y/n was already flipping through the Flowerpedia. She frowns, finding two different sections. The older man watched with curiosity as Y/n frowns looking over at Emily.

“It’s Daffodils and Wolfsbane. The Lycorine is the pure chemical from the flower itself, same with the coniine. It’s not hard for someone to find out the chemical makeup and then alter it..”

“Daffodils??” Emily asked with a confused tone and look, clearly trying to wrap her head around how an unsub was using flowers.

“Daffodils are essentially harmless, ingesting one doesn't harm you. The more you get dehydrated and stomach sickness. Most children who are treated for it are usually fine within 24hrs with proper hydration.” Dr. Franklin comments, placing his two cents into the conversation.

“True but you know as a doctor that too much of anything can be harmful..” Y/n says closing the book and sighs. The weight as she puts it away in her bag grows heavier with each lingering thought. She or Emily didn't dare comment on how ironic the book helping was. It had to be a coincidence.

Dr. Franklin moves over to show Caylee’s wrists, his finger pointing to the purple bruising around them. “The bound marks on her wrists suggest rope or leather for an extended amount of time.” Dr. Franklin shook his head, placing down Caylee’s wrist with care.

“Wait, he’s mixing wolfsbane with daffodils? Did you find any puncture holes on her?” Y/n asks looking back at Emily.

Dr. Franklins responds as he removes his glasses, a cleaning cloth in hand.

“By the tissue damage we found in the throat and stomach, I would say it was ingested.”

“But why use the daffodil chemical if you already have an excellent poison right there?”

“Get me a pair of scissors please,” Emily interrupted a white medical glove on her hand as she was inspecting Caylee’s hair, a pair of tweezers in her hand. Confused, Y/n walks over to Emily’s side to look at what she’s discovered handing her the pair of silver scissors.

At the top of the hairline, all around her scalp, there were small lines crisscrossing from the hair to the skin. Speckles of dried blood painted at the border of the two. The skin was tightly taunted, with bruising around each stitch. It had to have been done while she was still alive; there were signs of healing. A sickening sight to see, it makes the pit deepen in Y/n’s stomach once Emily begins to cut the stitches. Upon the final cut, the red auburn hair falls off Caylee’s head revealing a messily cut brunette hair instead.

“Oh god, I didn’t even notice that. My eyesight must be going..” Dr. Franklin frowns his eyes in disbelief and slight horror.

“It’s alright, all that matters is that we caught it now,” Y/n responds to the older gentleman who goes to inspect the other corpse as well.

Emily pauses processing the information before she looks up at Y/n. Her expression was one of empathy yet she felt sick just alone on this discovery.

“He’s sewing wigs into his victims' hair.”

“We need to report to the team,” Y/n says with a sickened look on her face and Emily is already calling her phone to contact Hotch.

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

Rainy weather was a delight to most or a nuisance to others. In Spencer’s opinion, he was mostly indifferent. He would rather be in the office or at home curled up with a book while the rain went on. Instead, here he was in a park staring at the dumping site of the victims, surrounded by yellow caution tape. Spencer’s eyes looked around at the park, it was the typical one. A small area for a playground, wide-open field for all kinds of sports, and a dining area filled with four weathered wooden tables, and benches. A twisted, and disgruntled expression rested on Spencer’s face. He stood by Morgan holding a red umbrella shielding them both from the weather’s light rain and mist.

“Well if there was any evidence, the rain washed it away” Morgan said as he stepped underneath the caution tape with Spencer following close behind.

“Why do you think the unsub chose this spot specifically?” Spencer asked as he looked around at the site.

There was indent in the grass from where the body had been laid out. Along with a border of wilting daffodils, the discoloration was already forming in the flower itself.

“Well its out in public so clearly, it wasn't hidden. He must have a message, something he wants to tell the world.”

“It could be a folklore message, the flowers and positioning of the bodies indicates a whimsical and almost artistic expression.” Spencer states as he crouches down to pick one of the wilted flowers with a gloved hand.

Morgan scoffs softly as he watches Spencer, a look of disgust.

“he's got sick taste then”

Spencer doesn't say anything as he tries to understand the meaning of the daffodils. He knew they were considered as a spring flower, they were native to grow in this state but were they important or just a throw away detail?

“So..” Morgan starts with a little smile on his face. The tone in his voice was light and fun, almost teasing. Spencer already didn't like where this was headed.

“You and Y/n earlier were getting all comfy with one another huh?”

Spencer felt a lump in his throat, his heart beat fasten at the thought of what Morgan was implying. Turning his head to look over at Morgan, his voice was a bit higher than he wanted to.

“What do you mean? She's my friend, of course I feel comfortable with her.”

Morgan scoffs softly with a smile. “Comfortable enough to hold her hand on the jet?”

A rush of heat smacked Spencer in the face as he gulped slightly. He frowned standing back up and sighed. Truthfully he was comfortable with Y/n because she made him feel safe. She was his friend and he cherished their friendship, but these newer feelings were confusing him.

“It's not like that..honest.”

Morgan looks at Spencer noticing how the comment seemed to hit him.

“well talk to me kid, I can handle it”

Spencer's lips form into thin lip unsure of how to continue. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tries to form the right words to say.

“It's been almost a year since Maeve passed..”

“Reid.”

Spencer shoots his head raising a hand up to stop Morgan from continuing. Then he crossed his arms.

“ Don't. I know I should be moved on by now but I can't help but feel guilty.. what if I'm just using Y/n as a replacement?”

Morgan's face formed into a scowl. “Do you really believe that? Do you even hear yourself?”

“No! At least I don't think so..I would never want to hurt her like that but” Spencer trails off rubbing his own cheek.

“But what?” Morgan says not fully convinced of his friend's words.

“ There was a bouquet of flowers on her desk this morning..and now I'm getting all of these confusing feelings and..I don't know what to think Morgan.”

Morgan stared at Spencer for a moment then chuckled softly with a sad tone.

“Pretty boy, what are you going through? You have nothing to feel guilty about. While you shouldn't let Maeve's death hold you back, you deserve all the time to grieve. But you need to do what feels good for Reid to do.”

Spencer frowns, then speaks in a soft tone.

“I don't know what that is..”

Morgan places a hand on Spencer's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “don't worry, you'll figure it out. But I know you Spencer and I know that if you're feeling something for Y/n. It's not a second hand feeling.”

Spencer let out a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff with a laugh. He smiled abit though, he always appreciated Morgan's support. Even if some teasing came along with it.

“Thanks Morgan..”

Before Morgan could say another word, he felt his phone vibrate with a new incoming text. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, his eyebrows furrowed intensely as he read. Spencer stares at Morgan with slight confusion, a pit in his stomach starting to form.

“What? What is it?”

“Prentiss and L/N found something”

[acryfordarkness]

Breaking beta

Michael was a shy, diminutive man, standing at only 5'2". His unassuming presence often left him overlooked in the bustling world around him. After years of longing for companionship, he decided to try his luck on Tinder, hoping to find someone who could see past his height and appreciate the kind heart that lay within.

One evening, Michael's phone buzzed with a match notification. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her profile: Vanessa. She was stunning, with piercing blue eyes, flowing blonde hair, and an aura of confidence that seemed to leap off the screen. Vanessa was everything Michael had ever dreamed of but never thought he could attain. Despite his insecurities, he gathered the courage to message her.

To his surprise, Vanessa responded almost immediately. Their conversation flowed easily, and Michael found himself captivated by her charisma and wit. After a few days of chatting, Vanessa suggested they meet in person. Michael was both excited and nervous but agreed without hesitation.

On the day of their date, Michael arrived early at the upscale restaurant Vanessa had chosen. When she walked in, heads turned. She exuded dominance and elegance, towering over Michael in her high heels. As they sat down, Michael couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity about his height, but Vanessa's smile eased his nerves.

Their conversation was pleasant, but Vanessa's comments often had a condescending edge. She joked about his height and small stature, making Michael laugh awkwardly while feeling a sting of humiliation. Yet, despite the subtle digs, Vanessa's attention made him feel special in a way he had never experienced before.

Over the next few weeks, they continued to see each other. Vanessa's behavior was a perplexing mix of kindness and condescension. She would compliment Michael, making him feel cherished, only to follow it with a remark about how "cute" and "tiny" he was. Michael, desperate for her approval and affection, tolerated her jabs, convincing himself that her interest in him outweighed the insults.

One evening, Vanessa invited Michael over to her lavish apartment. His heart raced with anticipation, hoping this would be the night they took their relationship to the next level. As they sipped wine on her plush sofa, Vanessa leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear.

"Michael," she purred, "I've been thinking about our relationship. I think it would be fun for me to become your chastity keyholder."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise. He had read about such dynamics but never imagined being involved in one. Vanessa explained how it would work, painting a tantalizing picture of submission and control. Michael, driven by his desire to please her and the hope of eventual intimacy, agreed.

Vanessa locked him into a chastity device, holding the key with a sly smile. Days turned into weeks, and though Michael's longing for physical affection grew, Vanessa kept him waiting. She teased and flirted, always dangling the promise of sex just out of reach. Her control over him became absolute, and Michael found himself increasingly dependent on her approval.

One day, Vanessa proposed a new arrangement. She wanted Michael to move in with her and become her live-in house servant. She presented it as an exciting new phase in their relationship, where he could prove his devotion. The thought of being closer to her, even in such a humiliating role, made Michael agree.

Vanessa provided him with a uniform: a maid's outfit, complete with frills and a small apron. As Michael donned the humiliating attire, his cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Vanessa's approving smile made it all seem worthwhile. He scrubbed, cleaned, and cooked while Vanessa lounged and entertained guests, who often smirked and whispered about the diminutive man in the maid's uniform.

Days stretched into months, and Michael's hope of intimacy faded as Vanessa's demands grew. She relished in her power over him, finding joy in his servitude and humiliation. Michael, once a shy man seeking love, became a submissive servant, trapped by his own longing and Vanessa's unyielding dominance.

Vanessa never did fulfill her promise of intimacy. Instead, she reveled in her control, keeping Michael in a perpetual state of hopeful desperation. His life became a series of tasks and orders, his dreams of love and companionship shattered by the woman who had once seemed like the answer to all his prayers.

As the months dragged on, Michael's hope dwindled further, replaced by a resigned acceptance of his new reality. Each day began with Vanessa handing him a list of chores, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched him curtsy and nod, dressed in his demeaning uniform. He felt like a shadow of his former self, his once gentle spirit crushed under the weight of her unrelenting demands.

One evening, Vanessa threw a lavish party at her apartment, inviting a host of her sophisticated friends. Michael worked tirelessly, ensuring everything was perfect. As he served drinks and hors d'oeuvres, he overheard snippets of conversation that made his stomach churn. The guests spoke of him as if he were a mere curiosity, a pet project for Vanessa's amusement.

"Isn't he adorable?" Vanessa cooed, her voice dripping with condescension. "He's completely devoted to me, aren't you, Michael?"

Michael forced a smile and nodded, feeling a knot tighten in his chest. The humiliation was overwhelming, but he clung to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, Vanessa would eventually see his worth and grant him the intimacy he craved.

As the night wore on, Michael overheard Vanessa speaking to a tall, handsome man named Ethan. They laughed and flirted openly, Vanessa's hand lingering on Ethan's arm. Jealousy and despair gnawed at Michael, but he continued to serve, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

The party finally ended, and the guests departed. Vanessa, slightly tipsy, pulled Michael aside.

"Clean up this mess, Michael," she ordered, her tone devoid of the affection she once feigned. "Then come to my room. I have something to discuss with you."

Michael's heart raced as he cleaned, hoping this might be the moment Vanessa would finally reward his loyalty. He finished his tasks quickly and knocked on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Vanessa called.

Michael entered to find Vanessa lounging on her bed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Michael, I've been thinking," she began, her voice silky. "Your dedication has been impressive. I've decided to take things to the next level."

Michael's heart soared. Could this be it? The moment he had been waiting for?

"I want you to become my full-time, live-in servant," Vanessa continued, her eyes gleaming. "Not just a house servant, but someone who attends to my every need. You'll cater to my whims, day and night. And as a token of your dedication, you'll give up your job and any semblance of your former life."

Michael's stomach dropped. This wasn't what he had hoped for. He had dreamed of intimacy, of love, not further servitude.

"But Vanessa," he stammered, "I thought... I thought we might... you know..."

Vanessa laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Oh, Michael. Did you really think this was going to lead to some fairy-tale romance? You're here to serve me, not to be my lover. If you can't handle that, perhaps this arrangement isn't for you."

Michael felt his world collapse. He had given up so much, endured endless humiliation, all for a dream that was never going to come true.

Seeing his crestfallen expression, Vanessa sighed. "Look, Michael, you have a choice. You can continue serving me and enjoy the security of being cared for, or you can leave and go back to your lonely, insignificant life. The choice is yours."

Michael was torn. The thought of returning to his old life, empty and alone, was unbearable. But continuing to live as Vanessa's servant, with no hope of the intimacy he craved, seemed equally bleak.

"I... I'll stay," he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Good," Vanessa purred, her smile triumphant. "Now, fetch me some water and then prepare my bath. And remember, Michael, your place is to serve, nothing more."

As Michael carried out her orders, he realized that he had made his choice. He was trapped in a gilded cage of his own making, bound by his desire and Vanessa's unyielding dominance. The dreams of love and companionship that had once driven him now lay shattered at his feet, replaced by the cold reality of servitude. And as Vanessa's laughter echoed through the apartment, Michael resigned himself to a life of submission, his hopes and dreams forever out of reach.

[internatlvelvet]

Vanessa Bell with her daughter, Angelica Bell, sitting on her lap. 1928

[impulsenova]

impulse: TITAN (Character Profile)

Name: Daniel Abernathy (he/him)

Age: 37

Status: Widowed (?) (left with a single daughter)

Occupation: Teacher (4th Grade)

Zodiac: Pisces

Favorite Color: Purple

Favorite Music: Classic Rock, Jazz, Blues (after his wife)

Morpher: Titan Driver - a watch-esque gauntlet on his right wrist. Due to his public identity, he keeps it on his person at all (or most) times.

Bio

From Tennessee, Daniel had a normal life. Originally went to the University of Tennessee for Sports Nutrition. Way into his 30s he changes his career into teaching, moving west to Port Cerulean, California. He fell in love with Vivian Matthews, an astro physicist (who for the longest time felt he was way out of her league), and they had a child together.

However, Vivian's secrecy due to her job put a strain on their marriage. She insisted that it was to protect him and their daughter, Vanessa - but Daniel wasn't too sure. He frequently noticed her writing in a journal, but he could never get his hands on it. Surely there was some information about what she was doing in there, right?

Suddenly one day, Vivian disappears without a trace. Daniel and Vanessa wait for days, but days turn into weeks, and they fear the worst. Daniel's only lead is her job at the Cerulean Astrophysics and Nuclear Research Network, CANRN. To his surprise, he discovers that Vivian was working on something that was beyond this planet and anyone's understanding of astrophysics.

In addition, CANRN had Vivian's journal and gave it to Daniel, saying that she insisted that he receive it if something happened to her. He discovered that there was something in the desert that she wanted him to retrieve. Something she's been tracking for awhile, and according to her writings, would save the planet from impending disaster. CANRN researches explain that she was a part of a project monitoring extraterrestrial threats and just before she vanished, she believed that she might have found something to help combat them.

With nothing else to go on, Daniel leaves Vanessa in the care of Auntie Valerie and Uncle Terrance, and heads out to the desert, with no idea what he's about to discover. Finding the coordinates, Daniel comes across a meteorite, glowing a dull purple. He touches it (typical dumb male behavior), and something happens. He can HEAR his wife's voice, calling out to him in his head. But there was something else, a burning sensation, among a series of visions. A city rumbling, gargantuan monsters, and him.

That meteorite did something to him, but he had no time to process it, because there were several MUCH larger ones about to hit Cerulean City, at something told Daniel they were harboring something very bad within.

It’s revealed that the Earth is a linchpin holding the balance of the galaxy together, and there is a single planet like this in every galaxy. In addition, there is a race of gigantic alien conquers that use biotechnology and machinery to conquer these planets and use their innate abilities to harness the galaxy’s power for their selves.

Sensing the danger, the galaxy reached out as a distress call, but it went unheard until Vivian and Daniel both arrived. But with Vivian missing, Daniel has to investigate what happened to his wife while also saving the planet. All while developing a lesson plan for next school year.

Personality

Daniel's nurturing personality is a tremendous trait as a grade school teacher. He's patient, kind, and empathetic, but don't mistake his kindness for weakness, as Daniel is known for his booming voice and sudden change in demeanor when he's angry and upset. It's something that he tries to keep in check in the classroom, but so many rampant students can take a number on him.

Additionally, being a single father gets the best of Daniel. He relies on Vivian's sister - Valerie, and her brother, Terrance, for help with Vanessa, especially when duty calls as the Titan. As time progresses, he turns into a "Pinterest mom", looking up slow cooker recipes or way to make the morning rush of getting Vanessa ready for school. If anything, this journey has taught him that no one person can save the world alone, and he needs to rely on others not just for the planet's sake, but for his own as well.

Powers

The galaxy is revealed to be a grid of power, and somehow, it is reaching out to us. The meteorite, is revealed to be a sentient portion of the galaxy, and Daniel created a link with it from a single touch. Sensing danger, the galaxy feeds a surge of energy through Daniel, causing his anatomy to expand exponentially. This was uncontrollable until he reluctantly worked with CANRN to create a suit he can summon and wear that he could control and channel the surge into something he can use to combat any threats.

In addition, Daniel can call upon constellations in the night sky to aid him in battle, transforming him into something akin to the zodiac signs. This can be a large bullish form with horns, representing the Taurus, or turning into a centaur like creature representing the Sagittarius.

[mightyflamethrower]

President-Elect Donald Trump’s landslide victory will likely go down in the books as the greatest political comeback in American history.

With every win, there is a loser. The biggest loser of the presidential race was Vice President Kamala Harris. But her failed campaign, once propped up by Democrats and media allies, also left many others with egg on their faces

Below are five big losers after Trump’s massive victory.

Media Elites

The credibility of the establishment media appears to have hit rock bottom after it tried to smear Trump as fascist and a threat to democracy.

In the final weeks before the election, the media tried to push several hoaxes. It claimed Trump called for guns to be pointed at Liz Cheney. But far from speaking about executing Cheney, Trump’s remarks were about the establishment’s willingness to send Americans to die in foreign wars.

It also pushed a Harris campaign narrative that accused Trump of wanting to “control” women’s bodies “whether they like it or not.” Trump’s full statement shows Trump said he would “protect” women from migrant crime and from foreign adversaries. Trump’s statement was not in the context of abortion.

The media also ran with an Atlantic story that cited “attendees” and “contemporaneous notes” of a meeting taken by “a participant,” that claimed Trump refused to pay for the funeral of U.S. Army soldier Vanessa Guillen in December 2020.

Americans already did not trust the media before the election. A Gallup poll in October found that Americans’ trust in the establishment media to report current events “fully, accurately and fairly” had plummeted to a record low.

Obamas

The Obamas’ massive effort to help the Harris campaign defeat Trump failed. The Obamas are the most esteemed members of the Democrat party after former President Barack Obama won in landslide victories in 2008 and 2012.

Barack Obama campaigned hard for Harris. He appeared to use every trick in the book to help Harris win, such as guilting black men for purportedly not wanting a woman president.

Former first lady Michelle Obama unexpectedly took to the campaign trail in the final weeks. During her rallies, she implied that people who don’t support Harris for president are sexist and racist. She also questioned if voters were “ready for this moment.”

Voters rejected the Obama’s scare tactics. Early voting data suggests Trump performed historically well with black and Hispanic voters.

Mark Cuban

Cuban, a never-Trumper, strongly backed Harris as a campaign surrogate. He appeared for weeks on high profile shows, trying to bridge the gap between business leaders and the Harris campaign. He claimed Harris was not an ideological politician and defended her refusal to answer policy questions.

In the last week of the campaign, Cuban delivered a large gaffe that galvanized Trump’s base. Cuban claimed on The View that Trump was never around “strong, intelligent women.” Conservative women immediately took to social media to condemn his remark. Trump slammed Cuban’s claim by stating “all strong women, and women in general, should be very angry about this weak man’s statement.”

Liz Cheney: Republican Benedict Arnold

Cheney, another Trump hater, made a Democrat alliance with the Harris campaign, and it backfired. Cheney campaigned heavily with Harris in suburbs of rust belt states. At each campaign stop, Cheney ripped Trump as a threat to democracy, a rhetoric that voters rejected on Election Day.

The failed alliance suggests Cheney might have actually helped Trump. The Democrat party is already asking questions about who is to blame for the failure.

“The thing that I’m really most curious about now is, where does the Democratic Party go?” Democrat Dan Turrentine, co-host of The Morning Meeting, said. “I think there’s going to be one side that’s going to say that the party did not, you know, Harris was howling around with Liz Cheney in the suburbs, talking to Haley Republicans and not talking to the progressive base, and the kind of RFK, Bernie Sanders, progressive part of the party, wound up in Trump’s camp.”

Joe Biden

Americans widely voted against four more years of President Joe Biden’s vice president. Under the Biden-Harris administration, costs increased by about 20 percent across the board, Russia invaded Ukraine, Hamas and Iran attacked Israel, illegal migrants invaded the southern border, and the nation suffered the deadly Afghan withdrawal.

Voters soundly rejected the Biden administration’s unprecedented tactic of waging lawfare against Trump. Never before had a nominee of an American political party been indicted by an administration’s Justice Department.

In addition to his shunned agenda, Biden, who Democrats have praised for stepping aside for Harris, will likely be viewed as a failed president because his chosen successor did not prevent Trump from completing the greatest political comeback in American history. Biden endorsed Harris, campaigned for Harris, and conveyed all his campaign money to Harris.

“It’s been a historic presidency,” Biden said Thursday. “Much of the work we’ve done is already being felt by the American people…”

[acacia-may]

Let Them See (Finral x Vanessa Fic)

While guests at the Heart Kingdom's royal wedding, Finral (drunkenly) takes a big step in his relationship with Vanessa.

Relationships: Finral Roulacase/Vanessa Enoteca, Charmy & Finral Friendship, and Charmy & Vanessa Friendship. Briefly Mentions Gadjah/Lolopetchka (because it's their wedding) and Langris/Finesse (in one line)

Genre: Romance, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing (there's a lot of drinking here), Secret Relationship, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Slice of Life, & Charmy being snarky (even though I can guarantee she doesn't want to be here)

Rated: T for drinking and descriptive kissing

Word Count: 2516

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, Black Clover fandom friends! I know I haven't been writing much BC lately, but I've had this story in my drafts forever as part of a massive work I'm not sure will ever get finished (sadly) so I've decided to post this "chapter" as a standalone for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy it. Many thanks to @delirious-donna who proofread this way, way back in the day, and a big thank you to anyone who reads this! I really appreciate your support! Cheers! 💕

Link to Work on AO3. Full Text Below the Cut. Thank you for reading!

“Care to dance?”

Vanessa could barely hear the groomsman over the loud music and excited chattering of the wedding reception, but she caught on well enough as he held out his hand to her. Usually, she would have found this kind of attention flattering, but in this particular case, she had been trying to keep a low profile and being continually asked to dance was making it difficult.

She sighed and shot Finral a glance across the table. “Well…actually…”

“It’s fine,” Finral mouthed at her with a wave of his hand.

“You don’t mind?” she asked confusedly. While they hadn’t being seeing each other for very long and hadn’t told anyone about the relationship, Vanessa still wasn’t sure that Finral would be comfortable with her being whisked away by other men while she was technically here with him—even if no one knew that except them. Perhaps, he was thinking that they weren’t entirely exclusive yet or that it would be suspicious if she kept declining when she was asked to dance.  

Whatever his reasoning, Finral shrugged and reassured her “No, go ahead—you should dance if you want.”

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Vanessa was soon led to the dance floor by the groomsman, and Finral returned to his drink. She glanced over at him periodically as several other men cut in and pulled her away from the man who had originally asked her to dance—offering her their hands and several delicious cocktails which, if she was being honest, she enjoyed much more than their company. By the time her squad mates interjected and whisked her off to dance with them instead, she had lost sight of Finral in the crowd of celebrating wedding guests.

“Have you seen Finral?” she asked Magna, but he merely shrugged with a slight shake of his head.

“At the bar maybe…?” he suggested before Charmy interrupted in between forkfuls of dessert.

“Maybe he’s getting cake—it’s delicious! You should go get some.”

Vanessa excused herself to—as far as her squad mates were concerned—follow Charmy’s advice not to go looking for her pseudo-secret-boyfriend. She rubbed her hand across her forehead at the thought. How drunk was she that she was suddenly thinking of Finral as her boyfriend? Or perhaps it was entirely the opposite, and it was a part of her that was still a little too sober that wanted to label their relationship…

Vanessa pushed the thought away, but her head was already spinning. Just in case it was in fact the uncharacteristic sobriety, she downed the drink in her hand and stopped by her table to pick up the shot of tequila she had left there—at least she hoped that was her table... Stumbling a little, she made her way to the bar where she found Finral leaning on the counter surrounded by empty glasses with various decorative straws and umbrellas.

“There you are,” she said taking a seat next to him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Finral shrugged before taking another swig of his drink as Vanessa hailed the bartender to order whatever he was having. “Taking full advantage of the open bar, I see…” she teased.

“You seem to be having lots of fun yourself—you’ve danced with practically every guy here…”

“Except you,” she answered before she gave him a playful scolding. “You haven’t asked me to dance all night…”

“Haven’t you danced enough with everybody else?” sighed Finral tilting his glass and watching the red and orange swirls tumbling in the otherwise clear liquid.

“Listen, I only did that because you said it was alright.” Vanessa picked up the drink the bartender had left for her on the counter and took a swig before she tilted her head pointedly at him. “You’re the one who basically snubbed me…”

Finral rolled his eyes before he downed the rest of his drink waving at the bartender for another. “You wouldn’t be able to tell that with the way all those men were falling all over themselves just to talk to you. They’d still be trying to dance with you or getting you drinks if Luck hadn’t threatened to fight them all.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous…” A slight smile spread across her lips as she tilted her head and snaked her arm around his back.

“No, I’m not the jealous type,” he answered with a sigh as he picked up his next drink. “But…but that doesn’t mean…” He stopped—his slurring voice trailing as he stared down at his hands. He bit his lip. “Can I ask you something?”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed, but she answered, “Sure.”

Finral sighed but wouldn’t—possibly couldn’t—meet her eyes. “Are you…embarrassed to be with me?”

Vanessa hands seemed to move on their own as she reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek, tilting his face up at her. “What? Of course not. Why would you think that?”  

“Well we haven’t told anyone that we’re—you know…”—the volume of his voice dropped—“kind of a thing now…It’s like this big secret…which yeah, has been kind of fun but I don’t know… seeing you with all those men tonight—they’re so much stronger and more charming, more handsome, and all around better than I am…” He paused and shrugged his shoulders. “I just wondered if…maybe you didn’t want people thinking you settled…”

“Finral, that’s not how I feel at all…” Vanessa smiled slightly, sympathetically. “We both agreed it would be best not to tell anyone at first—in case it didn’t work out, remember? It would just make things awkward… Our friends would never let us live it down, and we would’ve had to sit through the Captain’s lecture on the ‘one rule’ for nothing.” Vanessa chuckled lightly and winked at him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Considering we’re probably the reason he made that ‘no babies on the squad’ rule in the first place, I’m sure he’d have a lot to say…”

Finral’s slight twitch of smile quickly faded. “Do you really think we’re going to break up…?”

“Are we together?” she asked though she was unsure if it was all the alcohol or her curiosity getting the best of her that caused her to be so blunt.

Flushing, Finral swallowed hard. “I…I like to think we are, but—”

“Well in that case,” Vanessa cut him off—unable to hold back the smile that tugged at her lips. “I’d say it’s still pretty early in the relationship to say what could happen.” She sighed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “We could still end up breaking it off... Not everything lasts forever, right?”

“I like to think some things do...I mean look at Gadjah and Lolopechka—they’re perfect for each other. They’re probably going to grow old together and die holding hands.”

“Lovely sentiment for their wedding,” quipped Vanessa before she took a sip of her own drink.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way…” Finral sighed. “There’s something really beautiful about it, I think.” His face softened, and he had an almost wistful look in his eyes as he continued, “You can just tell how much they love each other. I’ve never been to a wedding like this before. Most noble marriages are arranged so weddings are pretty stuffy, formal and solemn—with everybody just trying to make the best of a bad situation. Even if the couple really is happy or content together, like Finesse and Langris, you wouldn’t be able to tell because of the way everybody is acting.”

Vanessa took another sip of her drink. She hadn’t been to a lot of noble weddings in the Clover Kingdom, but based on her experiences at Langris and Finesse’s alone, she couldn’t argue with Finral’s logic. “Sounds peachy… The Clover Kingdom aristocrats just have to ruin everything, don’t they?”

Finral’s mouth twitched in the corners before he stared down at his glass and sighed again. “That’s not what I want…I mean sure, I’ve always wanted to get married but not like that…” He paused—that wistful look returning to his face as his eyes widened and seemed to light up at his words. “I want a wedding where everybody says, ‘Wow, look at how much he loves her’ and ‘Can you believe how deliriously happy they are together.’”

“You really are such a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” Vanessa teased affectionately ruffling his hair. A blush filled Finral’s cheeks, and he shuffled his feet against his barstool.

“Maybe…”

“What about her?” asked Vanessa running her hand through his hair.

“Who?”

“The bride in your dream wedding—does she love you too?”

Finral’s blush deepened, and he looked away from her. “I hope so…but I understand if she doesn’t…”

“I’m sure she does…” Vanessa reassured him. Disentangling her fingers from his hair, she stroked the side of his cheek with the back of her hand until he met her eyes again. Her voice grew soft, gentle as she continued, “I don’t know how she couldn’t…”   

Surprising both Vanessa and, seemingly, himself, Finral cupped her face in his hands. He suddenly leaned forward in his barstool and kissed her—just barely a brush of their lips, tentative yet sloppy somehow, probably from the tequila she could almost taste on his breath. Her eyes fluttered closed, and maybe it was all the alcohol talking but she couldn’t care less about anyone seeing them.

“Ah!” shrieked a voice followed by the clatter of dishware falling to the floor. Vanessa pulled back. Clearly, she had thought that much too soon as she found Charmy staring at them utterly dumbfounded—her third or fourth piece of wedding cake smashed on the ground. Finral’s face turned a bright rosy shade of red as Charmy exclaimed, “I don’t care how drunk you are—you can’t kiss Vanessa!”

“But…but Charmy…” Finral protested his words blurring together as they tumbled out of his mouth. “You don’t…you don’t understand… I think she’s the one.”

When Vanessa failed to stifle a giggle, Charmy rolled her eyes at her. After a pointed huff in Vanessa’s general direction, she turned her attention back to a very red-faced Finral with a stamp of her foot and crossed arms.

“Oh no you don’t. We’re not doing this again! If you start banging your head against the wall, I swear…”

“Why would I…?” Finral began with a trailing voice and confused tilt of his head. “Oh…” he said at last with a thoughtful nod and an awkward, drunken chuckle. “It’s not like that, Charmy. I promise…” Finral insisted again before staring into Vanessa’s face. “I…I love her…”

As he met her eyes, Vanessa could feel the heat rising in her cheeks—that blush that only came out when she drank too much. Her head was spinning with a rush of something she couldn’t quite place in the woozy haze of alcohol, but before she could say anything, Finral turned back to Charmy and said, “But don’t tell her that because… I don’t want to scare her away…”

Charmy blinked at him. “I’m sure you can handle that on your own…” she quipped causing Vanessa to burst out laughing. She frantically covered her mouth with her hand as Charmy added bitterly, “Though believe me, I want nothing more than to pretend I didn’t hear that…”

“Thank you, Charmy,” said Finral with grateful tears in his eyes, and once again, Vanessa found she couldn’t hold back her intoxicated giggling. He was such an emotional drunk—it was kind of sweet, in a way. Charmy, however, was unamused as she shook her head and turned her attention to her with a huff.

“I can tell the two of you are drunk, but are you really going to let him kiss you like that?” Charmy rolled her eyes, and Vanessa wondered if she had ever looked so exasperated. “Not to mention that other thing…”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed as if she was contemplating this thoughtfully—though her mind was clouded and hazy from too much liquor. “Charmy has a point…” she said at last turning to Finral. Her playful frown quickly shifted into a teasing grin. “I’m not going to let you kiss me like that…”

A somewhat delayed look of genuine confusion passed over Finral’s face before Vanessa leaned forward in her stool and pointed her finger at him. “You call that a kiss?” She laughed as Finral’s blush deepened. “I’ll show you a kiss…”

Without the slightest forethought, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. She could feel him jerk backwards in surprise, but her hands frantically raced across his nape and tangled in his hair pulling him back to her with an almost desperate ardor.

“I hate you both,” muttered Charmy bitterly when they broke apart from each other both breathless and red in the face. “And I’ll never forgive you for making me ruin my cake. I’m going to get another piece…”  She sulked off leaving them once again alone at the bar though this time with Finral looking like he had just been whacked on the back of the head with one of Asta’s anti-magic swords.

“Woah…” he finally stammered at last. “That was…a kiss…”

“Yeah it was,” Vanessa teased with a flirtatious wink and an almost smug, lopsided grin.

“Vanessa…Vanessa…” he breathed before his face suddenly fell. “I’m so sorry…I…I just told Charmy that I love you…”

“That’s okay…it’s just Charmy. She thinks we’re just messing with her. Plus, we’re all used to you saying stupid things when you have too much tequila…” Vanessa laughed again as she playfully tapped his nose. “You’re drunk. I am too, but at least I’m not a lightweight.”

Finral sighed. “Yeah…maybe…but…but I…I really do love you, Vanessa…It’s not just the alcohol…” His voice trailed as he met her eyes and gently pushed a piece of hair out of her face.  “I…I think this is it…I’ve finally got it right…” His face flushed before he frantically added, “Is it…is it too soon to say that?”

“Maybe a little, but…” Vanessa smiled snaking her arms around his neck again. “As long as you don’t start telling random strangers I’m the only one for you and banging your head against a wall, I’m okay with that…”

Finral stifled a laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“If you get to say corny romantic things when you drink, I get to make bad jokes,” she teased pulling him close to her.

A blush filled his cheeks as his warm breath brushed against her skin. “Someone…someone will see…”

“Ah let ‘em,” shrugged Vanessa—her speech beginning to slur. “They’re bound to find out eventually…” She pulled him close enough to feel his racing heartbeat, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as she stopped a tantalizing mere inches away from his face. “Unless…” she breathed before brushing her lips against his. “You wanna go somewhere they can’t see us…”

[namazunomegami]

About me

First, let me tell you I'm a chronic oversharer lmao. Have fun with my character profile. I've written it with the same structure I write my ocs lol.

Nicknames: you may call me Nene, which is an alias derived from my irl name. But I won't bite your head off if you call me Vanessa.

Age: I'm 24

Pronouns: she/her and I'm fine with any feminine terms.

Height: 162 cm/5'3

Occupation: I'm a special needs education therapist student specialized in behavioural disorders and learning disabilities. I'm also a veteran goth and I work in customer service despite my anger issues

Likes: creating moodboards, collecting perfumes, creating playlists for my OC characters, spending my money on useless stuff, making edits on capcut, and I want to do audiobooks and voice acting in the future (not on a professional level tho, just for fun)

Dislikes: insects, darkness, capitalism

Sexuality: Bisexual

Typology: My MBTI is INFJ, my big three is Cancer sun, Libra moon, Leo rising, my chinese zodiac is the dragon, my diabetes is type 2

Some fun trivia: I was born with dislocated elbows which makes me able to twist my arms in creepy ways, I'm left handed, I have BPD which kinda explains all the impulsive shit that I'm doing on here also my blog is safe for fellow cluster Bs

This blog is a writing blog, a personal and a main blog because I'm too lazy to have their seperate accounts and running multiple blogs is just... overwhelming for me.

Fandoms: Jujutsu Kaisen, Bleach, Star Wars, Naoki Urasawa's Monster, Dune, Tarantinoverse, Hunter x Hunter, Chainsaw Man, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Sailor Moon, ASOIAF, House of the Dragon, Choujin X, Touchstarved, Hellsing Ultimate, Gotham, the list is endless tbh

Tag system:

I'm very shitty in organizing stuff on my blog but I'm trying my best

#I should shut up for today: basically just my 2 am rambling about any random subject

#meesa writes: all of my fics and drabbles are mushed under this tag

#obligatory selfship tag: anything about my selfships, but every ship has their seperate tag

#accidental hunposting: stuff I reblog and tag in my first language

#asks: every answered ask but mutuals have their seperate tags

#jiujitsukarate: jjk reblogs

#hydrogen peroxide: bleach reblogs

#analysis posts: some really intense rambling on fandom stuff

#my moodboards :3: what did you expect? these are my moodboards for ocs