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zombierocker17 · 4 years

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Harry is drunk and needy on his birthday, Harry Styles Imagine (Smut)

(Hi my lovelies, been about 2 weeks (Im sorry). I'm back at writing, It's was recently Harry's birthday!!. So I decided on a special imagine. Drunk Harry, but also needy Harry. Enjoy- Briana ♥️)

(Teasing, Handcuffs, Dominating over Harry)

The early evening of February 1st, Harry's birthday. Harry was eager to go out tonight, instead of his more recent big fancy floral or printed suits he wore a more romantic looking suit. A more tame look, his hair done nicely. A white dress shirt, unbuttoned of course. And a black blazer paired with black dress pants. Adorning his neck a loose black tie hangs.

You watched him put on each price of clothing, the silky tie dragging against his lightly tanned skin. Recently trimmed hair falling into his face as he leaned down to tie his shoes. His long fingers gripped the laces with ease. The rings on his fingers complimenting his outifit perfectly .

Your wearing a long sleeve grey dress top, with a pair of his pearls around your neck. Some tight black pants and some sparkly black heels. It was casual but fancy enough for Harry's birthday dinner. He certainly enjoyed anything you wore. Especially if you where wearing his clothes.

The dinner started in a restaurant for dinner with his family and some friends. Then dwindled down to a few friends, and Gemma. Harry had been saying all week how we was going to get completely wasted for his birthday. And you believed him.

It was a romantic fun evening, Sitting on some dark blue velvet barstools, you where deep in a conversation with Gemma. "And then Harry starts running around the house in my training bra!" she giggles talking about Harry and hers childhood. You giggle trying to imagine younger Harry in the bra running around. "That sound like something he would do. I mean yesterday Harry tried on a pair of my earnings, he was like 'Y/N do you think these would look nice with my sparkly nave blue suit?'. " you say imitating his voice, while giggling.

"That definately sounds like my brother" she drags the sentence as she looks past your head, looking behind you. She laughs covering her mouth with her hand. You turn around seeing somthing you didn't expect.

His blazer off , hair slightly messy. His dress shirt hanging on by a few buttons. He was dancing to the music stumbleing over to you an Gemma. You had only seen Harry drunk one other time, except last time it was early in the night. He was only tipsy that time, kinda silly, loud reminded you of regular Louis.

"Heeeyy baabbe!!" His voice slurred, his long ringed fingers wrap around your waist with a very tight grip. "Hi-ya H !" You say pecking his cheek. "What are you babes talkin about?" He says.

You giggle, "Did you just call your sister a 'babe' ?" You ask. "Mm yeah. She's gorgeous, I mean she's related to me after all!" He says running his fingers through his hair you thought 'there it is'. His whole 'all about him' drunk quality. It was cute and silly but it was Harry.

He walks behind you holding onto your shoulders. His lower half was now pressed against your back, he places his chin on your head resting it there. He presses he crotch against your bottom, your body tenses up at the feeling. He has a boner, and he is pressing it right against you.

He says loudly near your ear "Baabee, I neeeed you pweease" he begs. Gemma has left already, she left the moment Harry placed his head on top of yours. She knew you two would want to talk. He turns your swivel bar stool around to face him. " I neeeed you now. Can wee pweease leave?" He asks again pouting his bottom lip. Gosh, you just wanted to bite at it.

Harry is definelty the dominating one in the bedroom, but sometimes he absolutely loves it when you in charge. And judging by the way he's acting that's how you assumed tonight was going to end.

You look at his glazed over sparkling green eyes. They are practically calling to your soul to take him home. You give in knowing he would only be whiny if you didn't .

"Fine! Let's get going my needy little 26 year old." You say grabbing your things and rubbing your hand against his soft chin and jawline. He smiles and wraps his arm around your waist pulling you close. Heading out to the car you notice Harry able to walk a little smoother. Clearly his drunkenness leaveing him and being replaced with pure lust and need for you.

He helped you into the car taking into account you where still wearing your heels. Both you and Harry sat in the back seats of the car. This car had some things similar to a limo, the little window that can be rolled up for privacy from the driver. Large black leather seats for two people to sit on. And a small compartment for storage.

"Home please Tanner, and hurry please" Harry says to the nodding driver before rolling up the little window.

"Someone is needy" you say chuckling a little bit at Harry. His hand immediately takes a very strong grip on your leg. "Very needy" you say under your gasp from the sudden grip on your leg.

"On-top of me please" Harry begs a small whimper in his tone. You obey his orders taking into account he used the word 'Please' , instead of being to rough or forceful.

You climb on top of him straddling him both your legs on either side of his waist. As soon as you get comfortable on his lap you feel his boner against the area he craves. Grinding on him you earn a moan from his alcohol stained lips. It motivates you to keep moving, you grind harder agaisnt him his head tilts back enjoying the teaseing.

"I've been wanting this all evening, ever since I first saw you wearing these tight pants" he says sliding his hands up your thighs and wrapping around your waist landing on your ass. He gives it a quick spank, resulting in you breathing out a sound between a whine of pain and a moan of pleasure.

He smiles at your reaction. "Keep grinding Y/N please felt s'perfect" he begs. You continue to grind against him moaning at how hard he was under the layers of fabric.

You could feel yourself getting slightly wet at the feeling. Harry still holding onto your waist pulls you closer taking you into a very heated makeout session. Tasting the sour flavour off Harry's lips was giving you all the motivation to keep grinding.

At this point your both grinding against eachother your hands are tangled in his hair. His ringed fingers clawing at your back. Your both complelty enjoying eachother until the car stops. The small green light near the dividing window lights up, indicating you have arrived.

You waste no time in pulling Harry inside the house. Passionately nipping at his neck leaving several love bites that will surely be all over the news the next few days. Stopping at every corner, wall or landing up the way to your shared bedroom. Every stop removing another piece of clothing from each other.

Until you finally reach the bedroom, leaving you in your bra and panties, and Harry in only his boxers and loose hanging tie.

"Lay on the bed arms up" you command at Harry. He does as he is told, he lays on the dark red wine colored bedsheets, lifting his arms up to the bed frame. You open the bottom bedside table drawer pulling out the metal handcuffs. Harry blushes knowing tonight is going to be long, but enjoyable.

You take one of the cuffs placing his wrist into it clasping it closed not too tight but tight enough. The wrapping the chain around the bedframe and doing the same to his other wrist. He was completely stuck there until you where to unlock him.

"Well hello there" you say rubbing his cock through his now very tight black boxers. You teasingly climb on to the bed inbetween his flat spread legs. His perfect green eyes never leave you. Your rubbing on him gets stronger earning a groan out of his perfect pink lips.

"Oh look at this" you say pulling off his boxers. His cock springs free standing straight up. "Look at how perfectly hard you are H" you lightly pull his cock to one side and let go watching it swing then stand straight up again. He groans again, "Y/N do somthing. Anything please,I need you."

You wrap your fingers around his cock, admiring how your small hand barley wraps around his cock. The veins that run up the sides of his cock, each and every bump and ridge. Every perfect detail turned you on, feeling the wetness soaking your panties. You decided against what's left of your clothing. You remove them sliding each peice off seductively.

You climb on top of him , rubbing your wet folds along his cock. His breathing hitches at the contact. "Y/N C'mon please do somthing" he begs. You give in, sliding into his cock all the way. His throat releases a low growl-like moan. "Fuckin 'ell, so tight babe" he groans out.

You use his chest to help you bounce up and down, placing your hands just below his collarbone bird tattoos. Your both moaning at the speed, Harry helps you by thrusting lightly up into you. Letting you do most of the work for now. You start picking up speed more going much faster. You moan at the sound of your asking hitting eachother.

"Y/N you feel amazing." He says closing his eyes as pleasure waves over him. You lean forward and unlock his cuffs. You want him fucking you.

As soon as his hands are free, he takes your hips in his hands with a very tight grip as he thrusts into you hard. "Oh Harry. Faster please. I'm getting close baby" you yell through various moans. He reaches towards your clit, rubbing fast circles helping you through your orgasm.

"Shit.... That was hot babe" he says laying you down on the bed. He places your legs on his shoulders as he slides his cock back in your leaking cunt. "Oh fuck, Harry. That feels great. You feel so big right now" you moan arching your back. "You feel incredible at this angle Y/N your little cunt is squeezing my cock so well." He says thrusting deeper and deeper into you.

He leans down to get even deeper into you, your legs still on his shoulders. His thrusts faster and faster, as you feel the warmth deep in your lower stomach growing. "Harry I'm close baby" you warn. "Mm'to baby, together? " He asks. You nod feeling the tingly feeling get stronger.

"..3..." He kisses you, his thrusts getting very sloppy but still hitting every place you need.

"..2.." he rubs your clit harder making circles.

"..1.. cum babe. I'm cumming".

You both help eachother ride out your orgasms. Both panting lying next to each other. "Happy birthday H" you say kissing his nose. You watch that perfect smile grow on his face. "Thank you darling" he kisses your cheek as you both drift off to sleep.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles #smut #one direction imagines #one direction #one direction smut

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greennightspider · 5 years

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FairyTale #2: CinderEric Part 2

Summary: A hotheaded Dauntless initiate has some steam to blow off. What better way than to blow it on one of the biggest nights of the Dauntless year, with one of the fiercest bigshots around?

Part 1

**SMUT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER**

Eric x Elle

You nervously tapped your foot on the floor as you sat in the dark initiate changing room, only to be thwacked by Danny's towel.

"Chill Elle, you got out."

And he was right. You had made it back in time for curfew with none the wiser. No one seemed to think that the "phantomed challenger" might be an initiate, and your comrades didn’t give you more flack than normal.

Although you had already heard more than enough rumors that morning to fill a book, it seemed that you had managed to pull off the most daring fight of your life AND still save your ass.

But you couldn't shake the look Eric gave you after he'd won. The Dauntless leader looked 10 times more incensed right there than at any other point in the match.

Which meant he probably knew.

Eric heard you and Danny during the fight. There was no way he didnt, with the way he soured when he should’ve have been basking in his victory. Someone with his amount of pride couldn’t stand it. The fact that an initiate had had him on the ropes.

So why hadn’t you been found out yet??? The question had run in your mind over and over as you undid the bindings on your forearms, listening to the mindless chatter and the sound of slamming metal around you.

You leaned your head back against the lockers, thinking about how just above your head in your own little nook was your bandanna and one. Odd. Shoe.

Initiates were usually given two pairs when they first joined Dauntless, but you had lost your spare in an unfortunate weapons training accident involving a shredder. Luckily Danny had given you a pair of his shoes to wear, but they were two sizes two big and were hard to move in.

Sighing as you slipped them off and rubbing your sore feet you watched as the last of your cohort trickled out towards dinner. Sick of getting blisters you decided to walk barefoot to the mess hall.

The cold concrete was soothing on your blistered soles as the slaps of your heels echoed in the nearly empty halls. You trudged along in your dark grey cargo pants and an even darker racerback singlet which complemented your cocoa-colored skin, grateful for the small gust of cool wind that hit your aching shoulders.

This was Elle’s first mistake.

Tucking stray wisps of hair back into your high bun you rubbed your exposed neck, grateful that you had tied it up after a particularly grueling training bout with Danny.

This was Elle’s second mistake.

The exhaustion made you careless as you managed to brazenly and loudly stalk right past an open door to a Dauntless Leader breakroom. A room that had been occupied by a certain champion who's head had turned at the odd slapping of feet, and who's eyes now followed you down the corridor.

This was Elle’s third mistake.

Time almost slowed as Eric saw you pass by. The small breakroom's kitchen was fitted right next to the door, which meant Eric had about 4 good seconds to get a good look at you.

Any normal person would think it was just a initiate walking by with training bruises. But not a fighter. Not Eric.

As the Dauntless leader turned his head sideways he saw what could be a burnmark from the mat that night on your shoulderblade. He saw the redness on your tanned forearms from where he had grappled with you.

And then he saw the blisters on your bare feet. Probably. From wearing. The wrong. Shoes.

Bingo.

"Shoes not comfortable, initiate?"

Elle jumped when she heard the voice behind her, but was too late to run.

You felt a rough tug that pulled you stumbling into the room with only one other person and only one way out. The lion's den. You gulped audibly as you came face to face once again with your challenger.

"Just a normal Dauntless training day sir Eric leader sir." You answered, trying not to instinctively grip your arms, in an effort to hide the redness from your grappling the night before.

Just stay calm Elle, you got this.

"That’s a pity." Eric shrugged moving closer and leaning his shoulder against the wall while crossing his arms. Although he sounded casual enough his gaze was nothing but predatory as he looked down at your feet then back to your eyes.

"Thought you might be MISSING ONE."

Awfuckfuckfuck.

You instantly tried to make a break for it but he towered over you as he blocked your only hope of escape and locked it behind him.

You regretted getting so close as he stalked towards you, while you matched his steps in reverse like some twisted dance.

"You lost on purpose."

"You won the match sir." You squeaked.

"That wasn’t a win. You threw the fight." You stumbled as you backed into a chair and Eric slammed his hand on the table in front of it. "I don’t like fucking pity."

"It wasn’t a pity win I swear I just didn’t wanna get thrown out sir Eric sir." You blabbered.

"Cut the sir crap."

"Okay Mr Eric!” Your pitch getting higher and higher with each syllable.

The King of the Brawl said nothing as his eyes slowly traveled down your neck, your torso, your legs and then back up to your eyes, unflinching as he walked around to your side of the table.

"Well then, why don’t we settle the score right here right now?"

You blinked thrice, wondering why his first act wasn’t to throw you off the chasm or out of Dauntless altogether. But you realized that if his pride was even half as big as the rest of him, what mattered to him was the redemption. The win.

"You win, you get to keep your place as an initiate. You lose... well..." Eric shrugged, knowing he didn’t have to continue since you knew damn well.

"Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.” You bravely snarked.

“You don’t.” Eric said darkly.

“So what kinda match we talking. I can do wrestling, uh... uh knife throwing um- I can do judo- um- sir?"

Eric had managed to get between your legs and press you up against the small table. You had tried to keep your breath even as his muscled frame trapped you, rambling as you did whenever you were nervous. Or frazzled. Or both.

"Can’t you tell?" The Dauntless leader all but growled in your ear.

"The match has already started snookums.”

You then felt something hard rub against your trouser thigh and your eyes rolled back. Hoooooh fuck.

You’d always been one act first think later, and as you felt his package grow between your legs you instinctively threw your hands around his neck and started to grind against him, earning you a greedy smirk before capturing his lips with your own.

The kiss was hungry. Urgent. Filled with need on either side as you both battled for dominance. For sating. For submission as you were just as bad as each other, melding into each other.

Your back slammed against the wall and you didn’t even flinch as you quickly undid your cargo pants as Eric held you up. As soon as they were undone Eric quickly shoved them down, still keeping an iron grip on your plush thighs.

You felt him bite down your neck as you fought to undo his own, finally freeing his dick from its confines and you felt him bite harder as you stroked him, feeling his girth hot and heavy in your hands.

“So this is what a Dauntless Leader’s dick is like?” You tried to sound sassy but your mouth was already watering at the thought of having Eric’s cock inside you.

“Nah, this is all me.” Eric remarked as he lined you up and started to push inside you.

“Much better than that wimpy initiate dick don’t you think?” The King growled as he watched your mouth agape in pleasure as you tried to hold the back of his head in support.

“Initiate dick aint shit.” You yelped.

Eric laughed darkly as he started to fuck you against the wall. His loud grunts and your moans were the only thing that filled the silence. He held you up with ease as he held your thighs in his hands, your own switching aimlessly from his neck to his forearms as you bounced on his cock. He watched as he pulled in and out of your warmth, mesmerized by how well you could take him.

“Initiate pussy however...”

He growled as you pulled his short hair so he had too look up to meet your eyes. “I think you mean ‘Champion’ Pussy.”

Eric briefly remembered why he was doing this, but all motivation was lost when your pussy walls started tightening then releasing around his dick. “Shit” he seethed as he hunched over your shoulder.

“That’s it Eric, feel that?” You panted, grinning as you felt your Dauntless leader grow inside you, rolling your hips. “That’s all me.”

He cursed and threw his head back as he started thrusting into you at a mad pace, seeking his own release. You deftly held on as you managed to still match his thrusts, locking your legs around his hips. You then brought his head to your own and bit his hear, causing him to jerk as he hissed at the pain mixed with pleasure.

You felt your own walls tightening around his thick member as your eyes rolled back, and unable to hold himself back any longer Eric roared as he came into you, the creaming of your walls enough to bring you to your own high. You screamed as you rode him through his final thrusts, making sure your pussy was filled to the brim with his cum.

In a dazed silence you panted as Eric did the same, resting his head on your shoulder as he slowly pulled out of you, still managing to hold you up against the wall with ease.

“...So did I win?”

But before you could get an answer you yelped as Eric roughly yanked your pants back up. And before you had a chance to think he had already thrown you over his shoulder and started carrying you down the hall.

You were still very much dazed from your high, but not dazed enough to ignore where this might be going. You started kicking and thrashing, looking for any way to wrench yourself free and away from impending doom.

“Idiot I’m not throwing you from the fucking chasm so stop wriggling.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me then??”

“My place.”

You tentatively complied and stopped squirming. You noticed that the way to Eric’s apartment wasn’t the normal way towards Dauntless leadership, and actually led you through corridors you had never seen before.

Shuffling so you could watch Eric as he unlocked his door you remembered he was King of the Brawl.

"So um, what did ya use your wish for?"

Eric let a smirk grace the corner of his lips as he carried you inside and threw you so that your back hit a mattress, and when you spread your arms you realized it was a very large mattress. You looked up at Eric with wide eyes as he removed his vest and shirt so he stood at the foot of the bed with a bare chest and hungry eyes.

"I asked for a room with a double bed."

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Taglist: @therealcalicali @themusingofagothicsoul @tomarisela @mbaku-babygirl @laketaj24 @myboyfriendgiriboy @every-jai @draconicuchiha @selina122 @chocolatemetalprincess @tamed--chaos (lemme know if you wanna be added)

#greennightspider #eric coulter fanfiction #eric divergent fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter x oc #eric divergent #eric coulter #eric coulter fanfic

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

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Stamped Into Memory, Ch 5.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Slow Burn, Dubcon Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, implied animal death, the dog lives, Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5835

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || CH3 || Ch 4 || AO3

The door was open when Campbell arrived home. He rushed in, adrenaline surging through him for a split second as he imagined all sorts of terrible things, but then he heard Elle's voice coming from the kitchen. Calm. Happy, even. Campbell slowed down, rounding the corner with curiosity instead of that ready-to-fight reaction.

Elle was sitting on the floor with the dog. Not just any dog, but that dog from the night Cassandra died. The dog looked at him with intense amber eyes as Elle ruffled his fur. "Let's get you all fixed up, okay?" "Hey," Campbell said as he came into the room. He tried to keep his tone casual, more for Elle's sake than the sake of the dog, but he couldn't help but stare back. "Who's this?" "Uhm, he's a stray. He showed up in our yard." "I've seen him around town." "Yeah, you mentioned hearing a dog that night, right?" "I did." Peeking up at him, Elle frowned. Campbell had tried hard to keep his expression blank, but either that had tipped her off, or he hadn't tried hard enough; she suddenly seemed nervous. "I don't think anybody's been looking after him. His paw is hurt. I was thinking, maybe..." She looked back at the dog. "I'm sorry, I know this is your house, and I should have asked before bringing him in." Campbell shook his head and went to the fridge to get some cold water. "No, it's okay. It's just strange he showed up here." "I can take him to someone else." "You don't have to do that, really." He knew how hard things had been on her lately, and that she still didn't have many people she was close to in town. The dog was just a dog, right? It's not like they were some omen of doom or anything. "Maybe it's good for you to have a friend around." "He seems like a really good dog. He's super sweet." "What are you gonna name him?" "He doesn't have a collar, but I mean, he kinda looks like a Charlie. Don't you think?" Elle leaned against Campbell as he came over and kissed her hair. "Is that silly?" "It's whatever you want. Hi, Charlie." He bent down and offered his hand to the dog. Charlie sniffed his fingers, then gave a tailwag. Campbell scritched the dog behind the ears, glancing at the dog's paw; it was bloodied, and definitely painful, like maybe another animal got a hold of it. Or, maybe, like Charlie had gotten tangled in something sharp. Poor thing. "Do you wanna be my dog?" Elle cooed at Charlie. "Let's get that paw fixed up." "Do you need help?" "Oh, maybe. I just wanted to wash him." The dog followed them upstairs and hopped into the tub, easy as pie. Campbell brought up the dishsoap and some towels; he'd have to go find Allie at dinner and see if she knew where they could get some pet supplies. Charlie held still while Elle washed him, and Campbell helped hold him still while Elle wrapped the dog's paw. "I've always wanted a dog," Elle sighed as she cooked some rice and frozen meat scraps to feed Charlie. The dog was laying at her feet. Cute. "Did you ever have any pets growing up?" Campbell winced at the memory of Oliver. "No. Sam had a bird, but I never had any pets of my own. Dogs are cool, though." "Mm. Looks like Charlie's being a good boy." "He is. I wonder where he came from, though. Cassandra told me everyone's pets were gone. It's kind of weird he's just... here." "Yeah, it is a little weird. Maybe someone will recognize him." "Maybe." Doubtfully. Campbell had never seen the dog before they'd arrived at West Ham 2.0, and when Campbell woke in the middle of the night, Charlie had his front paws on the windowsill. He was staring out the window and into the night, his body and tail stiff. A soft, low growl issues from his throat. When Campbell got up and went to the window, there was no one outside. No one that Campbell could see. A cold feeling went up Campbell's spine, and he never quite got back to sleep. His phone pinged softly around seven, a few hours after dawn. Elle was already gone for work, and Charlie was laying across his leg, grumbling as Campbell wiggled free. Campbell read the text on his phone over and over before getting up and throwing on pants. He tripped down the stairs and went into Harry's room, prodding him awake. "You need to get dressed." "Hnngh? Why?" "They're holding a meeting at the church. Greg Dewey was arrested for Cassandra's murder." Campbell felt the world spin slightly as Harry's expression immediately fell in shame. "You knew." "Since yesterday." "How did you know? How did Allie find out?" "Because he told me. Bragged about it." Harry sunk into his blankets as Campbell began to curse. "I went and told Kelly. She told Allie and the others." "And you didn't think I deserved to know this?" "Cam, I was worried that if I told you, you'd have gone and killed him yourself. I wanted to go to someone less homicidal." It was the truth. That didn't mean Campbell wanted to hear it. "Goddamn it." "Hey." Harry slipped out of bed and lightly curled his arms around Campbell as Campbell began to pace. "Hey. I'll go with you, okay? We'll meet Elle there. It's going to be okay." They shouldn't have been that close, but Campbell held still, slowing his breathing; Harry's scent, day old Axe deodorant and coffee, sapped away all the poison pooling on Campbell's tongue. This wasn't some threat he needed to attack. This was Harry. Fucked up Harry, who loved Campbell and was struggling with his own shit. Campbell sighed and pulled away, going back to his room to get ready. A quick text to Elle confirmed that she got the news, too, and would save them a seat. By the time they got there, though, the church was packed. Elle was sitting next to Helena. She gave Campbell a helpless look; Helena was talking to her about something, but there was definitely no room left anywhere else for three people. They were lucky enough to find a spot where he and Harry could sit together. Campbell put a hand lightly on Harry's hip, directing him to the small open spot; he quickly yanked his hand back when Harry shot him a questioning glance. Right. Little shit like that could start rumors. Not that anyone was looking at them. Allie stood at the front of the church, her face shuttered and her body drawn in on itself. Once it seemed like everyone was seated, she cleared her throat. A silence fell over the church. "Hey, everyone. I just... I'll keep it brief. I just wanna give you an update on everything. Uhm, everything that's happened." She glanced around the church, shifting her weight. Nervous. "There was an arrest this morning. Greg Dewey. We're keeping him in an undisclosed location for now, until we can figure out what happened, and if there was anyone else involved." The gathered mass erupted into chatter. Allie left the church fast, before Campbell could even try to speak to her. Not taking any questions, then. It wasn't any wonder. Even on her way out, people were clamoring for more information. Gossipers. Campbell rolled his eyes and went to find Elle; she headed back to work, and they headed back home to get ready for their own shifts. Grizz, luckily, managed to convince Luke and Clark to let Campbell into the store for dog food. It's not like anyone else was using it. Like Campbell had thought, the only dog in town was their strange new roommate. At least Charlie had stopped hovering at the window in the dead of night. It made it easier to live with him, and not suspect he was some sort of inter-dimensional being sent to destroy them all. Harry, on the other hand, was a wreck that night. After they'd come home from dinner and their work shift, when Elle was in the shower, he came begging for some of Campbell's stash. "I haven't asked you for anything in a long time," Harry reasoned. "Can't I just get something for tonight?" Campbell raised an eyebrow. "Because you've been trying to get clean, or because you've been working through your private hoard?" "You know I'm not clean. But I need something after all this shit with Dewey. Something stronger. I just... I just need to sleep." "You need to get off the drugs and onto something useful." "Look, we can have an intervention tomorrow, if that's what you want to do." "Ugh." Campbell went and fished out a decent sized does of a pill that would, or should, knock Harry out for a while. "Here. Go get some sleep." "Campbell, this is one pill. I might as well just go to the fucking pharmacy myself." Resting his chin on his hand, Campbell smiled the smile of a fox that had raided the henhouse. "I think you'll find the cupboards a little bare. Look. You need to sleep? This will help you sleep." "I know how much I need, this isn't enough." "It'll have to be." "Cam--" "We need to be smart," Campbell cut in. He could see that Harry was freaking out. He was starting to go into withdrawal, like Campbell knew he would, because the supplies wouldn't last forever no matter how careful people were. "Harry, you need to be smarter than this." Harry growled. "I'm not a fucking child." "Then don't act like one. This isn't going to fix what's going on up in your head, okay? Coke, all those painkillers, alcohol. It's a band aid. You need help." Taking the pill, Harry slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's not like this is how I imagined my life going, you know. I was gonna do things. Be somebody." "Depression is a bitch." "I'm not depressed." Harry bit his lip when Campbell stared at him. "Well, I mean... I just assumed it was my own fault." "Because that's what all our champagne and caviar parents say to sweep shit under the rug, so they don't have to deal with it. Take your pill and go to bed. We'll figure something out in the morning." Harry hummed a little sound of agreement and shuffled off downstairs. Campbell flopped back on the bed, his head full of too many thoughts. How could he not have seen it in Dewey? Why did he do it? And now, he was back to worrying about Harry, along with everything else. How was he supposed to keep Harry from crashing? Elle came in soon after, with Charlie at her heels; she seemed distracted, but weren't they all? It had been a long, strange sort of day. Campbell was brushing his teeth while Elle tidied up her side of the bathroom. "Fuck, I can't believe that little shit had it in him. Can you? I mean I, I..." He trailed off for a moment and fluttered his hands in the air. It didn't make sense. "I didn't see it coming, out of all the people Harry had at that party." "Harry's party?" "Harry said some shit about Cassandra before prom at his party, and we gave a list of the suspects to Gordie, but nothing came of it until now." "Did he ever tell you what he said?" "I don't think he even knows what he said. Drunk fucking rambling. Maybe people will finally stop whispering and giving me those fucking 'you killed Cassandra' looks." "It's not like there's any evidence tying you to it now." Now. Campbell rinsed off his toothbrush and turned, trying to read the expression on Elle's face. She was brushing her hair and didn't seem aware of any sort of offense, but Campbell knew what he'd heard. "Do you still think I'm involved?" "No, of course not." "Are you sure?" "Why would I?" Elle looked over at him. "I just meant, in case anyone got suspicious. They can't possibly pin it on you." Campbell knew there was little point in pressing the matter. If Elle didn't believe him, why would she be sleeping with him? Or even living there still? At some point, paranoia was just that. Paranoia. He was just being jumpy because of the arrest. Once things were settled, maybe they could all just move on. But how would things even be settled? He went to sleep that night, imagining all the ways he would end that little bastard, if he could. Was Allie dreaming of the same things? The next morning, they all headed out to see the new work list. Elle, morning inventory check. Campbell, morning clean-up after breakfast. Harry, evening clean-up after dinner... again. They all sighed and headed out, Elle towards the stores and Campbell to the cafeteria, while Harry headed home. Campbell was used to working with Harry. If Harry was home alone, Campbell couldn't keep an eye on him-- not that Campbell ever stopped Harry from his bad habits, but Harry had been having a rougher time. What if he did something foolish, when no one was home to stop him? But Harry was alive when they got home that night, and the night after. The only ones who seemed to have done something foolish were Allie and her cronies; when everyone was called back to the church for Dewey's trial, the first thing Campbell noticed was that Dewey had been bruised up. Oh, that wouldn't go over well at all. Who had done it? Surely not Grizz. Probably not Luke. But Clark, who sat right behind Dewey and was practically breathing down his neck? Yeah, that guy was capable. Campbell wasn't upset. He was jealous. What he wouldn't give to be able to wrap his hands around that scrawny fucking neck and-- "Sorry I'm late," Harry mumbled as he slid into the booth behind Campbell and Elle. He leaned forward to whisper to them. "What's going on?" Elle shrugged. "You haven't missed much. We're just waiting for Allie." "Are you okay?" Campbell asked, turning to look at Harry. "Yeah, just a little slow this morning." Harry looked haggard, washed out, and his hands were shaking. But before Campbell could question him, a hush fell over the room. Allie was sitting at a table at the front of the room, and a group of people were sitting off to the side-- a jury, but who selected them? Through what process? Allie hadn't said anything about what was happening or how, not to him or anyone he knew. Gordie, of course, was on the prosecution's side. Helena was sitting next to Dewey. It all seemed so contrived. Like some sort of play. Either they had enough evidence or they didn't. Pretending to be a fair, balanced court was laughable. Courts weren't even fair and balanced in the real world, with trained adults. Allie offered a sort of smile, but it wasn't comforting in any way. "A week before my sister died, uhm, I was complaining about how wild it was that we had to take care of everything. You know, everything was our decision. And she was like, really? Alexander the Great conquered the whole world when he was our age." She sniffled. "Which was kind of annoying of her." Campbell couldn't help but sneer. Of course. Had to have one last dig, right? "Well," Allie continued, "we own it all now. The good and the bad." And that much was the truth. Campbell leaned back in the pew as Gordie presented his evidence-- the bullets they pulled from Cassandra's body, and the gun they had found in Dewey's possession. The gun used the same bullets. Helena threw some bullshit at Gordie-- oh, but could they be sure it was the same gun-- but Gordie held his ground. The jury passed the bullets around among them, murmuring things Campbell couldn't hear. "Another thing," Helena said as she went to sit back down. "Dewey has bruises all over him." Dewey whined before Allie could reply. "Yeah, they fucking beat me." The crowd began to buzz, and Allie raised her voice to drown them all out. "We had a problem guarding him. It won't happen again." "You arrest him, you beat him up." "It's not relevant." Helena raised her eyebrows. The noise of the crowd increased, becoming angry; Campbell could hear some teens whispering questioning remarks. Wrong move, Allie, and Helena could tell. "It's not relevant how the people in charge of this prosecution behaved?" "It was a mistake. It has nothing to do with whether he's guilty or not." Allie's tone went steely. "Move on." Glancing around the church, Helena shrugged. "We'd like to call Harry Bingham to the stand," she called out. Harry inhaled sharply behind Campbell, but stood and headed up to the front of the room without prompting. He'd barely sat down in the empty chair provided when Helena launched into him. "According to witnesses, you said that Dewey confessed to you. Can you clarify?" "We were at the coffee shop, on break." Harry glanced at Campbell, who tipped his chin up just a little. Say it. "We were just talking, talking shit. Whatever. And he basically just came out and said it, that he killed her." Dewey jumped up from his chair. "You fucking asshole!" Helena paused as Clark and Allie began to shout at Dewey, who was eventually subdued and put back in his chair. Frowning, she turned back to Harry. "You were saying?" Harry looked down at his hands. "He had this creepy smile, like he was proud of himself. He said that someone had to show her who was boss, and that whoever did it was a hero." "Is that when he confessed?" "Basically, yeah." "Basically?" Helena asked, crossing her arms. "Yeah." "Did he actually say he'd killed her? In those exact words?" "Not those exact words, but that's what he fucking meant." "Why? Why would he tell you? Why would he confess to you?" For a long time, Harry didn't respond. He opened his mouth and closed it again, biting his lip and blinking fast. He looked guilty. There was no way around that. "He thought it'd make me happy." "Happy?" "That Cassandra was dead." "Why would he think that?" "Because we were rivals in high school. And because I was talking shit about her," Harry admitted, causing a ripple of hushed conversation to rise among the jury. Allie looked furious. "I know it was a dick move, but I was drunk and pissed off because Kelly had dumped me. I didn't mean it." Helena gestured to Harry as she stepped closer to the jury. "Let's be clear about this. Harry Bingham confessed that he made disparaging remarks about Cassandra Pressman, and that night, she was dead." Harry stood up. "Don't put this on me! Look, he told me that he got me the peace and quiet that I wanted, and that he deserved a thank you. I might be a piece of shit, but he's the killer." "Did anyone else hear this?" "No, but--" Helena cut Harry off. "So, it's your word against his. Someone with no history of violence, against someone who hated her." Shrugging, she returned to her seat next to Dewey. "Maybe you put the gun in his house. Maybe you set him up." "That's not what happened." "Maybe you're lying." "Yeah, because I look so much better right now," Harry scoffed. "I didn't want to do this, you know. I didn't want to be here. I came here because I wanted to try and do the right thing." After a few more questions, Harry was dismissed; he darted back to his seat, and when Allie allowed everyone to leave, he was one of the first people out the door. The walk home was quiet. Elle kept glancing between them, and Campbell knew she had something on her mind, but he was too tired to ask. If she couldn't be bothered to just ask, well, that was her problem. Campbell was more worried about Harry, who was shaking by the time they got home; he didn't talk for a long time, and he silently left to go to work, but he curled up next to Campbell on the sofa that night while Elle was taking Charlie for a walk. "You know I didn't do anything, right?" Campbell pursed his lips. "I know you didn't do anything to Cassandra, but it's not me you have to convince. I don't see how they could suspect anyone but Dewey, considering they have the actual goddamn gun." "If they try and pin this on me..." "I won't let them. I promise." Harry burrowed his face into one of the sofa pillows. "This is all so fucked up." He dragged himself off the sofa and slugged his way towards his room. "I'm gonna clean the kitchen and go to bed. Maybe things will be less shit in the morning." It was unlikely. Campbell kept his opinion to himself, though, and went to help. They worked in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts; Harry wandered off to take a shower once they were almost done, and Campbell stayed to sweep the floors. He'd just finished when Elle and the dog came home. Elle wiped off Charlie's paws, taking her shoes off at the door. "Getting in some stress relief?" "Yeah. Kinda worried about Helena and her bullshit interrogation." "I mean, she's a nice person. I'm sure she's just doing her job." "Really doubt her job is trying to pawn a murder off on my best friend," Campbell muttered. "The jury better not fall for that shit. Harry doesn't even like guns." Elle busied herself with Charlie, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you think they're gonna do? Once they decide who did it?" "I don't know. Lock them up, I guess. Either that, or kill them." "I'm going to take a bath," Elle said suddenly. She came over and gave Campbell a quick kiss on the cheek. "Is it okay if Charlie's on the bed?" Campbell ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "Sure. I don't care about a little dog fur." Nodding, Elle grabbed Charlie's collar and took him upstairs with her. Campbell sighed, going back to cleaning the spots Harry had missed. Helena was the last person he expected Elle to befriend; Helena was smart, but religious, conservative, and more than a little judgmental. It seemed an odd choice. She also pointedly went after Harry. Was there something going on with Elle and Harry that he'd missed? Of course, Campbell had never told Elle about the kiss, because it had been a one time thing and Harry knew better than to try again. Was it wrong? Probably, but Campbell didn't want to cause worry over nothing, though... Did she somehow know? Was that why she seemed unconcerned about Helena's behavior? Campbell looked up from scrubbing the sink as Charlie trotted down the stairs and stopped at the back door. "Hey, boy. What's up? Didn't you just go out?" Charlie let out a long, low whine, staring at the doorknob. Campbell shrugged and went to the door. Maybe the dog had tanked up on too much water, or something. He slipped on his shoes, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Charlie stood at his side, looking out into the woods. Campbell tensed as Charlie let out a growl. "Charlie? What is it?" Campbell asked. The dog bristled. Something in the air felt wrong. Cold. "Charlie? Hey, let's go back inside." But Charlie surged forward, taking off before Campbell could grab his collar. The dog charged into the woods, barking and snarling. Campbell grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen counter and went after Charlie; he wasn't going to let the dog face whatever was out there on his own. Campbell heard barking, but he didn't see Charlie anywhere in the thick trees. Fuck. He tried to follow the sound. He didn't call out Charlie's name. The dog wasn't going to mind him, and it'd just announce his presence. For some reason, that seemed like a bad, bad idea. A yelp came from up ahead, close by, and the barking stopped. Campbell jogged a few paces and swung his light around, but there was nothing. Campbell put his hand down on a large rock as he caught his breath. He yanked his hand back as he felt something hot, wet; the flashlight revealed a thick red liquid, and a lot of it. Blood. Campbell felt his stomach heave, but he didn't have time to process what was happening. He heard a twig snap up ahead, and something moved in the beam of the flashlight. Campbell bolted back towards the house, running fast enough that his lungs and legs felt like they were on fire. He didn't stop until he was inside, and had the doors and windows locked. He rubbed his hands on his pants without thinking, then cursed. He couldn't tell Elle about finding blood. She would be devastated. And besides, maybe Charlie had caught a rabbit, and it was the damn dog he'd heard moving out there in the trees. Campbell figured they could wait a couple days. If Charlie didn't show back up, then he could tell Elle about the blood. At least it'd give Charlie a chance to show back up. Upstairs, he stripped out of his clothes and shoved them a ways under his bed. He'd deal with that later. Campbell put on new clothes, sucking in slow breaths and trying to stop himself from thinking about it all too much. He went back downstairs, peering out the windows. Nothing, dog or otherwise. He sighed and turned on the hot water, squeezing soap on his hands and scrubbing the little bit of dried blood left on them. As much as he tried to forget about it, he kept replaying that yelp in his mind, and the shadow that had darted in front of the flashlight. What could it have been? A coyote? Wolf? Bear? Elle came down the stairs a few minutes later, just as Campbell had finished getting the blood off of his hands. "Where's Charlie? I can't find him anywhere." "I don't know." Campbell met her gaze. God, she was already worried. He had to give her some sort of truth. "I took him out because he was crying at the door, and he just took off into the woods." "What happened?" "It looked like he spotted a rabbit or something." "I need to go--" Campbell grabbed Elle by the shoulders as she began to reach for her jacket. "Hey, no. It's super dark out there right now, and we won't be able to see snakes or anything. I'll put some food out, see if that'll work. If not, I'll go look for him in the morning. He won't go far." Elle looked out the window and frowned. "Yeah, I guess you're right." "I'm sorry." Campbell kissed her hair. "I know how much you love Charlie. I'll see if I can get some people to come out to the woods with me and help me look." Neither of them slept well that night. Elle tossed and turned, and Campbell kept waking up at every little creak and groan of the house. Not because he was afraid-- he wasn't scared, so much as hyperaware of the reality that there could be other people or animals out there that they hadn't seen before. And if it was a person, well, no one ever hides in the woods for a good reason. Charlie wasn't back by morning. There wasn't any sign of him. Harry, Sam, and Grizz all agreed to help him look for the dog, but after a couple hours of combing the woods and calling for him, there was nothing. Campbell couldn't even find the area where there had been blood. It was like it had never even happened. The search was cut even shorter by a text buzzing all their phones. Allie, summoning the town to the church. The jury had apparently reached it's verdict already. "We could keep looking after," Sam offered. "Or even put up posters around town. Someone must know where he is." Campbell sighed. "Yeah. Thanks." Sam rested a hand on Campbell's back, and Campbell let him. It was a heavy day for them both, and Allie. Sam hadn't really offered his opinion of Dewey and the accusations against him, but then whey got to the church, Campbell could see the smallest spark of hatred in Sam's eyes. Campbell gave Sam's shoulder a little squeeze of encouragement, before they separated and went to sit with their own groups. Harry and Elle were already sitting, and he squeezed into the aisle seat next to them just as Allie began to speak. "Do you have a verdict?" she asked the jury. One of the girls nodded. "You want to...?" The girl stood, clasping her hands tightly in front of her and looking down on the ground. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Guilty. We find him guilty." A chorus of cheers went up through the church. Allie smiled, ever so briefly before she dropped the mask back down over her face. "Thank you to the jury for doing its job. Now it's up for me to decide his sentence." Allie stood. "It could take a while. Guards, will you take him back to his cell?" Clark grabbed Dewey, and they were dragging him off when Dewey began to shout. Allie held up her hand, stopping them. "Everyone, can you come back and sit? Dewey has something to say." Dewey was brought back, and he faced his audience. For a moment, he didn't say anything, but then he spat on the floor and grinned. "Cassandra was a fucking bitch. So is her sister and her black boyfriend that makes all the rules." People began to shout him down, but Dewey just yelled back louder. "So are all the women here. Fucking bitches who won't give us the time of day, who think we owe them everything? I killed Cassandra for everyone because she had it coming." Campbell began to stand. "Piece of fucking--" Harry grabbed Campbell's waist and tugged him back down, whispering. "Don't. Not like this." He glared at Dewey. "Even if the little fuckstain deserves it." Dewey must have heard, somehow, because his gaze landed directly on Harry. "On the night of prom, we were all at Harry's house, and he said he wished she was dead." "Fuck you!" Harry growled as the crowd turned to stare at them. "I told you all I said things I didn't mean. I was drunk, I barely remember what I said." Laughing, Dewey pointed at Harry. "You know what you did. Everyone there knows what you said." His grin sharpened as he turned his finger to Campbell. "And Campbell helped me plan it. He was there, he planned the whole thing." "What?" Campbell felt his blood drain from his face. He planned the whole thing. Surely no one would believe Dewey? But everyone was giving him that terrible look, that one that said I knew it. Campbell stood and this time, Harry didn't try to stop him when he began to move towards Dewey. "He's a fucking liar, and a murderer. I don't have to sit here and take this." Allie barked out an order. "Get back to your seat." Grizz stepped between him and the scumbag, his voice low. "Don't, Campbell." "Get the fuck out of my way." "Stand. Down." Campbell wanted to punch Grizz, but he kept his hands at his side, curled into fists but still. "Allie," he called out as he looked to his cousin. She knew how close they'd been. She must have known. "You know I didn't do it. I wouldn't have." "What do you want us to do?" Clark asked, suddenly behind Campbell. Allie looked Campbell up and down, her face completely blank. Empty. Campbell could read just about any face, but not this time. Her tone was just as distant. "Arrest him." Campbell gaped at Allie as the crowd erupted into jeers and hollered insults. They'd had their difference, but throwing him to the wolves? "You can't be serious." Allie just stared him down, silent as the guard grabbed him and began hauling him out of the church. He could hear Harry's voice in the crowd, protesting, and caught a brief glimpse of Elle-- pale, shocked-- before Allie's cronies dragged him out the doors. Campbell struggled at first, mostly from instinct, but then Grizz grasped his shoulder and leaned closer. "Settle down. We'll figure this out." And Campbell grit his teeth, forcing himself to relax. Grizz snapped something at Jason and Clark, who each had one of Campbell's arms; they eased their grip and stopped, giving Campbell time to get his feet under him and walk instead of being keelhauled like a traitorous sailor at sea. They headed towards a black SUV, and Jason shoved Campbell in the back between him and Grizz. Clark and Luke took the front seat. "I didn't do it," Campbell said to Grizz. "The little dickweed is setting me up." Grizz shook his head. "I know, but this is how it has to be until we can figure out what's going on. Just take it easy. Once we talk to Allie, we can get this cleared up." "She hates me, and you know it." "Yeah, but I don't. Sam doesn't. We can make a case." Campbell leaned his head back against the seat. Fuck. He took long, slow breaths as they drove to Allie's house; he didn't understand why they weren't using the cells in the police station on the outside of town, where the cop car they used for Fugitive came from, but he wouldn't ask. Best to not give them ideas. He didn't even complain when they tossed him in the upstairs bedroom, handcuffing him to the radiator. Patience, Cassandra's voice murmured in his mind. Patience. Grizz, more than anything, looked disturbed. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room, as if the answer would be there somewhere. "If you need anything, I'll be in the hall outside, okay?" "Yeah, whatever." The door clicked shut as Grizz left, and Campbell closed his eyes. He was innocent. There was no evidence tying him to anything. He'd had Cassandra's blood on his clothes from checking her pulse, but Elle had gotten rid of those. No one had seen him. He didn't have any guns of any sort, his prints weren't on anything. Campbell was many things, but he wasn't a murderer, and surely Allie would come to her senses and realize that. All he had to do was wait.

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alo-piss-trancy · 5 years

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What would be some Grell omorashi headcanons?

Quick Note: I tend to use she/her for Gr/ell and hc her as a tra/ns wo/man, but I also understand between canon sources, non-canon char interviews, author intentions, dif cultural views, The time period the canon takes place in vs. The year the media was published vs. Our current time now changing views/terms, it's ALL a giant clustertruck question mark blob. So feel free to hc Gre/ll differently, be that a very feminine ga/y man or b/i or nonb/inary or whatever, I genuinely don't mind how anyone hcs characters and fan content does not affect my enjoyment of canon in any way. I'm never gonna pick fights and claim somebody's playing with their imaginary Barbie wrong lmao, kindergarteners know better than that

Now to the actual ask:

ANON I LOVE YOU!!! Gr/ell is one of my fav chars EVER but I never get to talk about her hhhhh ❤❤❤

I've had 8 dang years to think about this so enjoy a varied selection 😼 I'm sorry in advance bc half of these are very lemony oops

General:

* Reapers have stronger bladders than humans (in terms of capacity/general strength), but they're still much weaker than a demon's (goes for all bodily functions tbh. Demons don't really have any, the only reason they would need to go is if they chose to partake in occasional food/drink, and could easily hold it for weeks or even months at a time). A reaper can probably hang in there with a full bladder for a day or two if very determined, less if they've had any strong diuretics/alcohol (I imagine the humans' stuff is p weak tho and barely gets them buzzed).

* Gr/ell's bladder is stronger than a newbie like Ro/nald's, but weaker than someone like W/ill's. Mostly bc she's frequently drinking unhealthy stuff and has no problem up and ditching to pee as soon as she's tired of waiting.

* Not bladdershy in the slightest, and not dysp/horic either. (While she wants a womb/too look more womanly, she also seems fairly content with her body and even takes pride in it in several scenes.) The only time I could see her getting nervous/locking up is if she had a really bad day or felt extra self-conscious, and it wouldn't be a very severe condition.

* She doesn't like going in weird/gross places because she is a Beautiful Lady With Standards, thank you very much. If she has absolutely no choice she'll suck it up and pee in an alley like the commoner humans, but she will complain about it for the next few years at every opportunity.

* That being said she's also a huge hypocrite, and if the situation was reversed would immediately snap at someone like W/ill or Ro/nald to just go in the alley already instead of failing to hide their desperation on the job. You bunch of damn babies, grow a pair.

* If she needs to be serious/doesn't want ppl to know, she can hide desperation fairly well (a little clumsy/flushed and sweaty, but that could be mistaken as her normal goofy behavior), masking how bad it really is until she's a minute from wetting herself.

* If she doesn't care and wants to complain though, she's obvious af. Whines and gripes the whole time, full-blown potty dance to garner sympathy, legs crossed and bouncing, everything. By the time she gets to the suspiciously e/rotic moans ppl usually hurry to find her a bathroom/yell at her to leave lol

* There have definitely been times when Gre/ll used going to the bathroom as an excuse to ditch work for a LONG time or took many frequent smaller breaks to do her nails/read magazines/flirt with Seb, etc. Needless to say, this backfires terribly the one time she actually does have to go because W/illiam definitely isn't putting up with her bs no matter how much she begs or squirms. He's even madder at her when he realizes he'll have to clean the floor. If she wasn't so mad/embarrassed herself, she'd have taken joy in his karma and gladly told him to suck her d/ick.

* That's def not the first time W/ill's seen her desperate or piss herself. As young stud reapers in training I guarantee G/rell got shitfaced at company parties on more than one occasion (or just went out drinking the night before work on a weekday lol). Frequently showed up for field work having to pee every other hour and driving him nuts c':

* She and Ma/dame Red definitely fooled around a couple of times (she's the only woman Gr/ell's ever been attracted to) . Maybe Gr/ell already had the kink and brought it up, or maybe Red saw Gr/ell squirming and asked (insisted) she let her watch until she lost control, but either way things got dirty real quick lmao. Red slapped a demon's ass in the same room as her nephew, she's dom AF (and inappropriate lmao). G/rell's a giant masochist/sadist combo. Do the math 👀👌💯

* I personally love the concept of her ending up desperate after inviting herself along and crashing one of C/iel and Seb/astian's missions and just being miserable the whole time trying to hide it. Because she def can't embarrass herself in front of B/assy, but even worse she will NOT prove she has to take a potty break before some human kid. Naturally, C/iel being the complete brat and posessive bitch he is, immediately picks up on her predicament and torments her the whole time/makes a fool of her without letting Seb know the real issue. She can't lay a finger on him because she'd be Dead and she can't whine for B/assy to get him to stop bc that would mean explaining her problem so it just keeps escalating in comedic fashion. (This isn't even an omo hc really sorry lol, I just love any plot with those two bickering like petty babies as rivals for Seb's attention, even better if Ci/el consistently pulls one over on her and is the more mature one. You killed my aunt and then tried to steal my butler, Get Rekt Bitch )

* In any aus where she isn't hooking up with Red or trying to get Seb, I ship her hard with Un/dertaker (they're my otp actually don't judge me). In those he's actually the one with a massive piss kink and she's weirded tf out at first, but I mean if ur bf already eats dog biscuits and sleeps in a coffin u can probs learn to live with it. She indulges him periodically and he spoils her rotten afterwards. (I actually had several fic ideas for those two back in the day. One day maybe I'll finally get around to it).

* No matter what she draws a hard line at drinking it. No thank you. Golden showers are a maybe but they better have some gr8 shampoo to scrub her luxurious hair with afterwards.

* Wetting herself in that too small choir outfit from s1 that basically made short shorts and a crop top? P l e a s e

Dom G/rell:

* Has totally tried to pin Seb down/trap him somewhere and use his increasing desperation as leverage to get what she wants since he's too proper to wet himself. It probably doesn't work bc he's crafty and also could just throw her across the room, but u know. Points for trying.

* When someone lets her dom them willingly she's an absolutely sadistic fiend. W/ill completely torment them until they're begging and broken, and they have to pleasure her first before she'll show any mercy and allow them to let go. That said, she's got an almost sweet tone to anything she says and is very affectionate the whole time. It's a dichotomy that leaves any subs an absolute wreck. Her absolute fav part is watching ppl squirm and start to leak, it's cute.

* She also likes doing the whole fake sympathy play, where everything nice she says makes it 20x worse for the sub. Poor babies ❤

* Making out so they can't say anything no matter how desperate they are, just writhing underneath her with their whimpers muffled in her mouth? Perfection.

* Slowly pressing her boot into someone's abdomen is her signature move.

Sub Gr/ell:

* Loves the whole humiliation aspect and being all squirmy and nervous in front of (S/EBASTIAN) people, struggling to hide her problems and act casual but knowing her face is flushed red.

* When it gets really bad she gets super whiny and submissive, whimpering and moaning and really playing up the vulnerable aspect. Look how pitiful she is, it would be oh so easy for them to have their way with her~ (and then she bats her eyelashes and they just glare ajdkgk stop fucking around G/rell this is a Serious Scene we talked about this before we started)

* Sometimes she does public holds or gets desperate before a mission/visit just so she can see how long she can get away with it before she has to cave/people get suspicious. It's k/inky, exh/ibitionist, and oh so delicious~

* Lives for (S/EBASTIAN) the dom to get mad and disappointed in her, verbally berating her for not being more composed and embarrassing them in public, manhandling her as she's dragged somewhere more secluded to get ahold of herself, being teased and poked and prodded all while they're sneering in her ear. She wants to feel like the dirtiest, most ashamed and nervous person alive for such a simple need, knowing it's going to come out eventually no matter how hard she tries to be Good, having to beg and plead with teary eyes only to be denied access to the bathroom and told to suck it up and hold it.

* She really liked her original disguise/persona from the Ma/dame Red Days for this exact reason. Could be as shy and stuttery as possible and really play it up, got bossed around/teased by everyone, it was great. Totally got desperate once or twice so 'he' could beg Seb/astian to use the manor bathroom and get pitied. If he 'tripped' and just so happened to lose control and start crying, well, that couldn't be helped...

#omocute #omorashi #fandomo #fictomo #bear gets a letter #kuro omo

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bggestnerd · 5 years

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task 01 :: 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

she bullied me .. why would i want to know her?

PART ONE

Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?

" i mean . . . ” eleanor shrugged. “ when i was younger and still living with my family, we would steal things from stores ... ” was that considered criminal history? --- they never got caught doing it. “ nothing big or anything. some junk food, individual drinks .. things we needed but didn’t have enough money to get. ” she had never really told anyone about that; that her family stole things to get through the days. but it was better than starving, her older brother had always told her. she believed him. “ we never got caught. ” she spent a moment in thought. “ other than that, i can’t think of anything else? ”

What is your connection to Daisey? How did you know her? How well did you know her?

eleanor felt as though she wanted to roll her eyes. but stopped herself before she could. “ she bullied me. ” mercilessly, elle wanted to add. the brunette sank into the chair, crossing her arms. she didn’t want to seem suspicious .. she knew that being bullied would likely be seen as motive. but of course, she could never. “ why would i want to know her? she was .. mean. your typical head bitch in charge. ” one eyebrow arched. “ i didn’t hate her though. ” hate was a strong word. and it was true, eleanor didn’t hate daisey. “ i mean, there was obviously a reason why she bullied me --- i just never figured it out. ”

Have you visited the blog site “veritasexposed”? If you have, how credible do you find the information on this site? Do you know who runs the website?

" god ... yes, i have. ” eleanor instantly felt anxiety rise in her body. that blonde. the one person who could most definitely raise hell in the school other than daisey. “ she seems to know her stuff. i mean, i don’t know for certain if everything she says is one hundred percent true but .. ” elle cleared her throat, wondering what other people were saying for this particular question. she pulled her hair out of her face and tied it into a ponytail. “ i don’t know her, no. honestly .. i sometimes wonder if she even goes here. ” she did -- clearly. how else would she have known everyone, their secrets & not to mention daisey herself? unless she was simply that sneaky. that low of a person.

PART TWO

Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?

" I was in my room, playing zelda. ” she replied almost instantly. “ i still have the save file from that night if you want proof .. it has the time stamp on it, too. ” proof ... she felt weird saying it. when she was originally accepted into uni, she didn’t expect anything like this to happen. being a suspect for a murder. it sucked --- knowing you didn’t do it but people are still suspicious of you. “ i was alone that night. i didn’t want to go out or be with anyone ... ” which in reality, wasn’t unusual for eleanor. she liked playing video games alone ; she could rage and no one was there to mock her because of it. not to mention, the football game was going on which she most certainly wasn’t going to go to. “

Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?

her eyes looked around the room as she got lost in thought, trying to remember. “ i think i was doing homework. ” again, alone in her dorm ... wow, her life was boring. & she was just now realizing it. “ or i may have been figuring out my streaming stuff because I’m planning on starting to stream. ” she remembered hearing the news. so many emotions ran through her. shock, sadness, confusion. “ when i found out she was found, i just remember having so many thoughts going through my mind. ” the main one was if her murderer would act again or if they were only going for daisey. “ of course i was sad. of course. i mean, who in their right mind wouldn’t? -- someone died, ” it didn’t matter how daisey was as a person. she was a living being. “ was murdered. it was terrifying. ” she promised herself she wasn’t going to get emotional .. but still, her cheeks began to flush pink & tears welled in her eyes. “ it was .. it was scary. ”

How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?

" ehh .. i mean, i know of the woods. ” she grew up in ashmont which meant she was pretty familiar with the surrounding areas - including ashmont woods. “ i don’t really like going out in general so going to the woods doesn’t seem fun to me at all. ” she’d always preferred the indoors over outdoors. when she was younger, she hated camping. eleanor honestly would rather watch paint dry than spent more than an hour in the woods. no internet? no eleanor.

PART THREE

Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?

" it was an investigation ... how exciting do you think it would get? ” she paused, realizing how much attitude she was giving off. “ sorry, i’m just tired. it’s been a long few days. ” -- ‘ and being investigated for a murder she didn’t commit wasn’t exactly fun. ’ thought elle. she watched as the trainee wrote things in his notes. she wondered what he was writing. was she too casual? was she supposed to be more nervous? there was no handbook on how to act when being investigated for murder. “ no comments on it, no. ”

Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.

eleanor frowned, shaking her head. “ no, ” she crossed her legs, placing her hands on the table before fiddling with her fingers. “ i’ll be honest ... i think it was an accident. how could anyone be capable of killing someone purposely? ” her eyes met with grant’s. “ maybe it wasn’t even anyone who goes here? maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. ” elle waited for any further questions. “ is that all? am I okay to leave now? ”

#veritastask001 #how..............casual????????

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melforbes · 7 years

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Austerity, II

Part I

It was different when they argued, benign spats about leaving the toilet seat up or dirtying too many dishes or making them both late for work taking up their time, for when they argued, she only got annoyed. After an argument, there would be the inevitable apology, an act of making-up usually in the form of washing every dish or putting the toilet seat down, and a calm and forgettable thanks, but now, Mulder silently watched her across the office as she forked salad into her mouth, her heels off already, piles of paperwork sitting in front of her, no words coming between them. When they argued, she merely got annoyed, but now, he could tell that she felt hurt, her mind tired and her body emotionally drained. Of course, they couldn’t manage a case during the one week he would’ve given anything for a distraction, so now, they moved awkwardly around the basement office together, the walls drawing steadily closer as though they’d slowed down the trash compactor scene in Star Wars. He had turkey on rye for lunch, and she had a salad, a dismal and oh-so-Scully salad that, if it were any other day, he would talk her out of in favor of going to the little cafe two blocks over, a place with open windows and pretty umbrellas lining their outdoor seating. He always liked how she looked in the sun.

“So.” Though he craved a conversation to bring rain to their humid and dingy office, he couldn’t find words. Her brow furrowing with exhaustion, she pushed spinach and cucumbers around on her fork, kept her gaze down. “I was thinking we could head to Shenandoah this weekend. The weather’s supposed to be beautiful. We could pack a picnic, go-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Of course it’s not, he thought. The last time we went on a wilderness trip, you had to borrow my boots from the fifth grade, and I don’t want to hear another earful about how I should’ve thrown those out ages ago. And I’m not going to throw them out, not until you finally buy a pair of your own.

Sighing, he leaned back in her usual chair - she’d taken to the desk as though it were her natural place, and of course, he would never challenge her about that - and watched as she took another bite, chewed slowly. The windows above cast her in warm daylight, and he could remember back when she’d eaten that abomination of an ice cream in front of him, all insistent that they should go outside and carpe diem. Back then, he'd been romantic, as romantic as paying a kid to hurdle baseballs toward the two of them for an evening could’ve ever made him. She’d even had the heart to wait until they were naked in bed together many months later to tell him that she’d played softball all throughout her childhood and knew very well how to swing a bat. With vivid clearness, he could remember the way she’d said it, a sexed-up laugh on her lips as she’d looked at him with pure light in her eyes. There is nothing more beautiful, he figured, than a woman laughing in bed.

“Well,” he said, then thought through every other place he could take her to, everywhere from the Washington monument to the reflecting pool to the Johns Hopkins campus, “we could-”

“I’m really looking to spend the weekend alone.”

In her voice, he could hear finality, a closing remark; this was where she wanted the conversation - or, really, any and all conversation - to end.

“Okay,” he said, not listening, never listening. “What about next Monday? Takeout and a-”

“Mulder.” Finally, she looked up at him. “I could really use some space right now.”

Yeah, he thought, but it’s just us two in the basement, and unless someone gets killed by the yeti within the next ten minutes, we’re chained to this desk until Friday afternoon.

Shit.

The desk.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Okay,” he said, the topic dismissed, his mind distracting him with more possibilities than he could count. Suddenly, the room opened up, fresh air coming in, and when her gaze turned incredulous, he didn’t even mind.

“Okay,” she echoed uncomfortably, uneasy with how readily he accepted such a proposition.

After a pause, she went back to her salad, but his sandwich was left unattended while he lost himself in thought, his mind going to friends and business cards and whatever an allen wrench was. Though he didn’t know how to make everything up to her, he at least knew where to start.

Aerating a glass of wine in her hand, Scully crossed her legs as she sat on Ellen’s couch, her friend pouring herself a liberal helping of the drink.

“So he just doesn’t show,” Ellen said as she came over to the couch, sat down next to Scully; her tone was half incredulous, half expectant. “I mean, you said he’s not religious.”

Closing her eyes in annoyance, Scully gave, “So not my point.”

She considered this outing to be both damage control and reparation; if Mulder were to stop by her place on this Friday night, she wouldn’t be home, and plus, she hadn’t seen Ellen - or had a steady female friend - in years, so a visit was overdue. After Scully had gotten out of work, she’d gone home to change into something more casual and comfortable, then headed over to Ellen’s in time for the kids to show her their art projects from school and then insist that she join them for paint-by-numbers. With dinner over - Ellen had a way with roast chicken, and after a playful pat to Scully’s ass, her friend had dumped an extra-large helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate claiming that Scully needed it - and with the kids in bed, they could finally go on adult time, the pinot noir uncorked and the guest room full of fresh linens. It had been a long time since Scully had last sipped wine with the intention of getting drunk.

“I know, I know,” Ellen said, then took a sip from her glass. “It’s just that you acted like this guy was an incompatible workaholic - and, in your words, a jerk - and then he goes and does something like this, and poor Maggie, right, all prepared with no guest showing? But you’re still surprised.”

Scully huffed a breath, her eyes keen on the wine in her glass. Thinking back to undergraduate, she tried to remember if her limit had been two or three drinks, if wine was eight ounces per glass or if she was confusing it with beer.

“I’m just saying,” Ellen insisted, her tone starting to back off, “that you can’t put faith in the faithless, Dana.”

Ellen’s living room was dark save for soft lamplight, the couch plush and straight from a HomeGoods catalog, pictures from family vacations framed on the walls and little tchotchkes littering the matching oak furniture. With a pale blue carpet, the place looked like a gaudy homemaker’s attempt to recreate the beach, but still, Scully eyed the pictures of the kids building sandcastles, her gaze keen on the dog toys scattered on the floor. Though she could ridicule it all, she still wished her own home weren’t so barren, that she had more than a few polaroids and some newspaper clippings to symbolize the woman she’d become.

She must’ve been quiet for a while, all lost in her thoughts, for Ellen tilted her head toward Scully, gave a near-pitying look.

“So you like him that much,” she gave knowingly.

“I don’t know,” Scully spat, nearly splashing wine onto the couch. “I don’t know if it’s him or...the idea of him. Or if I’m in for the good parts but so out for the bad ones.”

“Has he done things like this before?”

“Yes.” She paused. “To a degree.”

“To a degree,” Ellen repeated.

Rolling her eyes, Scully gave, “I know he’s impulsive, and I know that he doesn’t do well with family or religion. When I asked, I hadn’t expected him to say yes, but he did, and that’s what’s getting to me, Ell. For some things, I know he won’t show up, and I’ve made peace with that, but he’s never...I’ve always been able to trust him.”

“And he broke that trust,” Ellen completed.

“Yes,” Scully forced. “He did.”

“Do you think he’d do it again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, take a guess.”

“I don’t know!” she insisted. “It’s not like I can test a hypothesis by asking him to be with my family on the next Catholic holiday, Ell. It’s not like we have one every week.”

“Other than church,” Ellen offered. “Pose the invite again, this time in a more casual way. See if he’ll go.”

Looking down at her lap, Scully mumbled, “Mulder really isn’t into religion.”

“But if he’s into you, and if he knows he’s done wrong by you, then he’s going to overlook that.”

“I don’t want him to do something that makes him uncomfortable. I don’t want to coerce him into being under the scrutinizing eye of every Catholic who knows me.”

“Well, keep the idea on the backburner just in case.” Ellen eyed Scully’s nearly-empty glass. “More?”

“Yes, please,” Scully gave with a tight-lipped smile.

That guest room kept sounding more and more appealing.

It wasn’t truly a Monday unless she locked in long before Mulder did.

As she walked out of the empty elevator and headed toward the office, rain poured down outside, her umbrella at her hip and her hair beginning to frizz. She hated days like this one, all warm and humid and uncomfortable; she figured rain was for days when the earth needed cooling redemption, not for days when temperatures were sweaty and sticky. Beer weather, her father used to call days like these, for you’d only ever cool off during them by sipping a crisp, dark beer.

When she came to the office’s door, she took out her keys but hesitated before putting them into the lock, her gaze centered on a new plague above his older one.

DANA SCULLY, M.D.

Turning her key and pressing the door open, she stopped quickly, her feet stuck as she stared at the new arrangement of the office. Though most everything was in its original place, the posters, pictures, and filing cabinets unmoved, his desk had been turned so that it made an L-shape with a new desk, one made of the same color wood as the original was. Of course, the original desk still held his files and paperwork, the lamps all in their same spots, but the new one, as she saw when she approached it, held her printed reports from the autopsy she’d done a few weeks beforehand; when she opened its high-quality drawers, she found packs of her favorite pens, the lotion she used to keep in the top drawer of the original desk, a knot of hair bands. Its top was adorned with a plague matching the new one on the door.

Softly, she smiled.

#this obviously is no longer canon BUT THAT'S BECAUSE ALL OF YOU GUYS WANTED MORE AND THIS WAS SET LIKE TEN MINUTES BEFORE REQUIEM #creative liberties have been taken #also yes there is more to come #he ain't off the hook yet #my writing

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looselucy · 7 years

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Temple & Hands

11 “I just can’t grant you the time off over Christmas.” My manager sighed, like he felt badly about it. And I knew full well the bastard did not feel bad about it. How could he? It was his fucking decision whether I got the holidays or not. How could he possibly feel badly about it when it was his decision to say no? My god. I know it’s a fucking cliché, but I hated that man. “Well, yes you can.” I pointed out. “I haven’t used my holidays yet, and I’ve earnt them. I’ve literally worked for those holidays, and I can take them when I want. All you need is two weeks’ notice, and I’ve given you a month, so you can absolutely grant me the holidays.”

“Christmas is our busiest time of year. Another one of our busiest times is Valentine’s Day, and I notice you did take that off this year.” He said it like it was a valid point. “We need you here.” “Last Christmas, the only day I didn’t work, was Christmas Day.” I huffed. “I stayed here when most people used their time off. I stayed. I did that last year, but this year, I just need a bit of time off. It’s just two weeks.” “You’re a very valuable member of our team, Florence. I would really appreciate it if you stayed.” “I’m sure you would, Dave, but like I said, I am entitled to this time off, and that’s when I’m choosing to take it.” He didn’t have a leg to stand on. He was a pretty intimidating man, and I imagined that if he was to say this to some other members of staff, the quieter ones, they’d just accept it. They’d just go home and bitch about it but they wouldn’t fight it. He should have known I wasn’t the type of person to do that. “Florence, please.” That was the best he had in him. “Just sign it. I’m not budging.” The staff turnover was pretty bad where I worked, and I was one of the few that had stuck with it for more than a year. It meant I could get away with being a little bit cheeky, a little bit cocky. It also meant I was seen as a valuable member of staff and that I couldn’t take my holidays whenever the fuck I wanted. I wasn’t standing for it. “You’re a killer, Florence.” He tutted. “I am.” I smiled. “I need that paperwork on my desk before you go home.” “You’ll have it.” He banged his pen against the paper before reluctantly sliding it back over to me, a face like thunder as he did so. I gave him the most genuine smile I could muster, and thanked him, though I might have done it through gritted teeth, then I left the room. My table of idiots were sat with anxious looks on their faces as I approached them, rolling my eyes before I took my seat. “He said no, didn’t he?” Sasha gawped. “He did.” “That bastard!” “YAAAAY! Now I won’t be alone over Christmas.” Niall threw his arms in the air. “No, you will.” I cringed. “What?” “I just said, I worked all last Christmas, I’ve given you enough notice, and I’ve earnt my holidays. He has to let me have them. I stood my ground. Sorry, Niall.” “Very disappointed in you today, young lady.” He scalded. Molly started going on about how brave I was, literally talking like I was some kind of heroine for the latest novel she was reading, and I got on with my paperwork, smiling to myself, relatively smug. Niall was one of those stereotypical cases. He’d moved to the big city with big dreams of becoming a star, and he’d unfortunately ended up working with us instead, and he couldn’t afford to go back to Ireland to see his family over Christmas. He still played gigs, and he was really good, but I knew it wasn’t exactly what he had been hoping for. He’d never fully admit it, but he had been hoping that my holidays would get rejected. He didn’t want to have to do the Christmas shifts on his own, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d be on my own last year and it had been horrible. I felt bad for him, but at the same time I was just really excited to have some time off. Even though the circumstances were a little strange. The phones started ringing again, and this time it was Molly’s turn to answer. “Hi, Molly speaking, how can I help?” She spoke cheerily. “Niall, I think I’m staying over Christmas.” Sasha said. “Really?” “Well, my mum and dad live just out of the city so I’ll get to spend time with them anyway. It falls on a weekend this year too, so it I’m not bothered about wasting my holidays on it.” “You’re an absolute angel.” He smiled. “And also, I’m going to pretend you’re staying for me. Just a lil bit.” “Okay.” She chuckled. Work was always a little bit more chipper on a Friday. The weekend was already working its magic on us, and for some reason, we just didn’t work as hard, and no one gave a shit. And now I knew I definitely had the time off over Christmas, I was feeling ever better. The Friday feeling was hitting me hard. On top of that, it was pay-day. “Does anyone fancy going to the pub after work?” I asked hopefully. “Why don’t you go with your boooyfrieeend?” Niall played, bouncing his brows. I had been waiting for him to say something all week, I was surprised it had taken him so long to be honest. It had been a week since I told him I was “seeing” someone over the phone, and he hadn’t made any comments or taken the piss out of me once, and it was extremely out of character for him. The girls both whipped their heads to me, their eyes wide, Molly subconsciously rushing through the call as I tried to force myself to blush, quickly realising that blushing was not an action you could force. I did the best I could to act bashful. “You have a boyfriend?” Sasha gawped. “No. I’m just kind of seeing someone. It’s casual. Very casual. Nothing to interrogate me on.” “Well what’s his name?” She squeaked. “Where did you meet? How old is he? Does he treat you right? Has he shagged you yet? Was it good?” “That is literally, the opposite of not interrogating me.” “These are things I just need to know.” She explained. “His name is Harry. He works at a bar, I met him there. Umm… What else did you ask?” “How old?” “Twenty-three.” “Does he treat you right?” She continued. “He seems very pleasant, but like I said, it’s casual.” “The sex?” “Not happened.” I was hoping to get all the questions out of the way ASAP so then I could sit safely in the knowledge that they all knew I was seeing someone, and nothing else really needed to be said about it. Because even though it was all innocent and harmless, there was still a part of me that didn’t really like lying to my friends. It just didn’t sit right with me. “Would you mind explaining the physical appearance of the staff member?” Molly said to the customer down the phone, gesturing to me at the same. “He’s tall.” I giggled. “He’s got long hair and gangly legs.” “What colour are his eyes?” Sasha asked. “OH MY GOD, WHO GIVES A SHIT?” Niall yelped, hushing himself automatically once Molly shot him a dirty look, covering the phone. “Why the hell does it matter what colour his eyes are?” “I care to know these things.” Sasha shrugged. “Honestly, I thought we’d all just be being mean to her. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought we’d all just make snide comments and this would be a funny affair.” I was glad Niall had changed the conversation at that point, because I genuinely had no idea what colour Harry’s eyes were. Not that it would have done much harm in me just saying some random colour, but I wanted to be as accurate as possible. “Okay.” Sasha sighed. “Well… what should I say then?” “Something like… Fuckin’ ‘ell, how the fuck have you managed to get a fella, Ren? And… umm… He must be blind. And, umm… Wow, how much are you paying him to spend time with you?” Niall sat chuckling away to himself, more than amused by his terrible attempts at offending me. I couldn’t help but laugh with him, though I’d tried my best not to. “Are we going to the pub or what?” I smiled, giving Niall the middle finger. “Of course we’re going to the pub!” He returned the gesture. 12 November 26th was a miserable Saturday. Truly miserable. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising, really, and yet I still found myself being astonished by the gloomy weather. I dashed into Harry’s bar with my jacket over my head, wondering how I managed to leave my umbrella at work pretty much every single Friday as I flew in through the door, shaking off my jacket over the brown mat that saved me from falling flat on my arse. I glanced upwards, seeing Harry’s manager there again, smirking at me with this knowing look. Harry had definitely said something about me. I smiled to him. “Nice to see you again.” He greeted. “Hi.” I gasped, blowing hot air upwards to remove a drop of water that was dripping down my nose. “He’s just getting changed. C’mon, I’ll make you a drink.” I moseyed over the bar, still shivering from the cold outside as I approached the guy. Lewis or something. I couldn’t remember his name. He picked out a glass in preparation. “I’m actually really rough.” I sighed, plonking myself down on one of the bar-stools. “We went to the pub after work and it got really out of hand.” “Hair of the dog?” He suggested. “Fuck the dog.” “I’ll be sure to let Harry know that the girl he’s dating is a fucking loser.” He grinned. “I’m kidding. Don’t tell anyone I said that. You’re still technically a customer. If anyone asks, I’ve been really nice to you. And very professional.” “Okay.” I chuckled. “I’ll be sure to spread the word.” “Thanks, Babe.” I couldn’t help but think that this bar only hired people if you were male, attractive, and ridiculously charming. They probably just taught them everything else along the way. When that thought first crossed my mind, it seemed a little ridiculous, but it only took me a second or so to change my mind. Because it was so difficult to be that charismatic and engaging. It wasn’t something that could be taught, it was just this natural thing that a select few people were lucky enough to possess. I guess it was the kind of thing that helped you get a job, but it was nice to see people who had a job because of that quality rather than just thanks to it. I guess it was something that deserved to be recognised. I couldn’t name anyone else I knew who had that about them quite as much as Harry and this Lewis guy did. “Do you and Harry run this place or what?” I asked, looking around. “Pretty much. He works hard. He’ll be the next to get promoted, I’m telling ya. He’ll be a shift manager soon.” “That’s good!” “There’s a few other lads who work here, but he’s my top guy.” “Are you the big boss, then?” “There’s the owner, and his co-manager, then it’s me. I’m always there for the interviews though, because I know what it’s like on the floor, and what the customers react well to.” “Is it a case of good qualifications or good looks?” I sniggered. “I like to think a mix of both.” He grinned. “LOUIS, I’M OFF!” We heard Harry before we saw him. I made a quick mental note of his name being Louis and not Lewis, before Curls appeared from the door at the side of the bar, smiling once he spotted me, two giant dimples pushing into his cheeks. I smiled back, giving him a little wave, pretending I couldn’t see the look that Louis was giving the two of us. It wasn’t even taking much effort for us to convince people. “Hey.” He grinned. “You ready to go?” “Yeah.” “Where you going?” Louis asked as Harry moved to my side of the bar. “Gunna take her to that place you recommended.” “Nice! Get the milkshakes. Trust me.” “Will do. See you Monday!” Harry ticked his head towards the door, and the second I’d turned around he grabbed hold of my hand, linking our fingers together and giving me a momentary squeeze. I ignored how strange it felt to be holding hands with the boy, and tried my absolute best to act as naturally as I could. “Look after each other!” Louis called as we walked away. “Will doooo!” Harry called back. We made the short journey out of there, our hands joined the entire time, and then as soon as we knew we were out of sight, they were dropped, both of us unlinking ourselves as soon as we could. “I think I’m a natural at this.” He chirped. “I think you are.” We began our journey to wherever it was that Louis had recommended, Harry not seeming to care about the onslaught of rain as I threw my jacket over my head again, trying to pick up the pace, but Harry was just moseying down the street like it was the sunniest day of the year so far. “What are you doing?” I cried. “I’m walking.” He shrugged. “It’s raining.” “You’re already wet.” He chuckled. “And I’d like to get to somewhere that’s dry, please.” I gawped. He laughed again, and even though I could tell he was purposefully winding me up, and I really did want to get a move on, I just couldn’t get irritated or frustrated by the boy. His grin was infectious, and even when I’d shot around to give him an evil glare from underneath my jacket, the rain bouncing around us, I’d found myself smiling to him. This real, wide, undoubtable smile. Although maybe one of reasons for that was because he did seem to pick up the pace, just a little bit. “How was your week?” He asked, turning a corner without telling me the direction. I took a few wrong steps before I noticed he’d parried, and then I jogged a little to catch him up, wondering how I had fallen behind so quickly even though I had been eager for him to hurry up. I placed the blame on his lanky legs. “Um, yeah. It was okay. How was yours?” “Not too bad. I worked a lot. How was therapy?” “Shit. As always.” I huffed. “How was it for you?” “Weird. A couple of weeks ago, Dr Jackson asked me to start keeping a journal, to keep track of my dreams. What changes and what stays the same.” It surprised me, how open he was about his dreams, how he didn’t shy away from speaking about them. But maybe it was just because Harry wanted to get as many different opinions and perspectives on the damn things as he could. He probably wanted to hear everyone’s opinions because what if someone had a different idea? What if someone had something to say about them that no one had pointed out to him yet? Or maybe he just wore his heart on his sleeve, completely. “Was there anything?” There was hope in my voice. “One thing.” He nodded. “For a split second, in one of the dreams, for just a split second, I saw… myself.” “Yourself?” “Yeah?” “What, like a reflection?” “Y’know when you have a dream that you’re in your house? But it’s not really your house. But, in the dream, you know it is?” “Yeah.” “It was like that.” He swallowed. “It was me, but it wasn’t really me. It looked like me… but it wasn’t. And it was just for a split second. If I hadn’t have wrote it down as soon as I woke up, I don’t think I’d have remembered it.” “And it was just the one time?” “Yeah.” “That’s so weird. I don’t-” I’d been too wrapped up in his story, far too wrapped up in it, and out of nowhere, I felt Harry dragging me harshly to the side, pulling me so I stumbled closer to him. I glanced to where I had originally been walking, and it was only then that I spotted the lamppost. “Oh!” I gasped. “Watch where you’re going!” He cried, a huffy laugh breaking through. “Sorry. I can be a little clumsy sometimes.” “I didn’t have you down as clumsy.” He tilted his head. “I’m extremely dimensional.” I smiled, not caring that we had now come to a complete standstill. “That’s a good thing for me to know. Now, when we’re around your parents, I know I can go… Ah, Ren, you’re such a klutz, and they’ll think I know you really well.” He shrugged his shoulders, this dopey little smile on his face, still smug and devious and loving this whole little escapade we had challenged ourselves with. I said the next few words without thinking. “I like you, Curls. You seem like fun.” When he smiled, there was an innocence there, a sense of wholesomeness that outplayed his tattoos and his broad frame and his long hair and his leather jacket. He looked like a man, but he smiled like a boy. “Let’s go get a milkshake.” He dismissed, trying to hide the pink in his cheeks. 13 I waddled hesitantly into Harry’s flat, trailing behind him. We’d gotten lunch (and milkshakes) at the place Louis had recommended, and it was as good as I was expecting it to be. I figured Harry was earning good money, thanks to him buying that round of drinks for the group after our therapy session, and the fact he’d paid for our lunch without even telling me. So Louis must have been earning even more than Harry, and he probably had a more expensive taste than I had acquired over my years of living alone. It definitely wasn’t the kind of quick lunch I would usually grab. Then, walking into Harry’s flat, I swiftly knew for a fact, that he was on good money. I pretty much stopped in my tracks as soon as we got in there, my mouth dropping as I looked slowly around the ginormous room I’d found myself in. It was almost like a small warehouse. It was all open-plan. There was two giant semi-circled windows, stretching from the floor to the roof, one to my left, and one central, right in front of me. They were pushed into the red brick walls that ran the entirety of his flat. The one on the wall across from me, was almost like centre piece of the room. You could see the river outside, see the tall beautiful buildings on the other side of the water. To the right hand side of the room, was his bed. Perfectly made, low, staring out to the rest of the room. To my left, was his living-area, brown leather settees that looked like you could drown in them, an enormous TV attached to the same wall as his front door. Then tucked into the corner, between the window on the left and the one on the back wall, was his kitchen, which looked like it had all the essentials a professional chef would need. There was art on the walls. Everything there was pristine and beautiful, a huge dining table stretching from the kitchen and in front of the window. It was perfect. It was literally the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. I just stood staring at it, trying to take it all in, completely in awe. I didn’t even think places like that really existed. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I heard a faint wailing coming from below me. I looked down, and saw the fluffiest white cat I had ever seen in my life sulking past me. “That’s Moggy. Ignore her. She’s miserable.” Harry said over his shoulder. He wandered over to the kitchen, dropping his keys on the table and making a bee line straight to the kettle, then flicking it on. I still hadn’t shut the front door. “You can’t possibly live here.” He glanced to his side to look at me, a dimple making its mark in his cheek as he smirked, clearly quite aware of how unbelievable his flat was. “My job pays well.” He said simply. “My job doesn’t pay badly, and my flat is horrific. I’m telling you now.” “It can’t be that bad.” He dismissed, preparing two cups. “It’s got nothing on this. Seriously, how do you afford this?” He turned to face me fully, leaning against his kitchen worktop and folding his arms, flicking some of his curls over his shoulder. “The rest of the flats in this building aren’t quite as nice.” He began. “It’s only the top two floors who get the windows, for one. I get the top half of the circle, the floor below me gets the bottom half. Then on top of that, this room was completely blank when I moved in. We had to clean the walls for about a week to finally see the red of the bricks again. My dad does interior design for a living, so he helped me out a lot. Helped me fill this place up with the essentials for as cheap as possible. Then… I’ve added things over the past two years. Saved up for some of the art and stuff. But it’s actually not as expensive as you’d think. Yeah, I still pay for the view and the layout, but I did everything else myself, really. It’s a steal, as they say.” I was still stood in the doorway as I watched Moggy the cat jump up on the sofa and glare at me with a very unenthused look. I glanced to Harry, and his look wasn’t dissimilar. “What?” “Are you coming in, or not?” “Shall I take my shoes off?” “Do whatever makes you comfortable.” “Um, okay.” I finally stepped inside, shutting the door behind myself as gently as I could, having a second look around just to see that I hadn’t conjured the entire place up in my head. It was real. “Do you want a brew?” He asked as the kettle rumbled. “I’m okay.” “You want anything?” He asked, reaching to his top cupboard and pulling out some cat food. “Not that.” I chortled, approaching him. “Are you sure?” He asked with a startled tone, looking at the packet. “It’s fish and chicken!” “Sounds delicious, but I’ll give it a miss.” “Suit yourself.” He tutted. “Moggy, you want some?” I shit you not, the cat meowed. The thing literally meowed, and jumped back off the sofa and approached us, her bright blue eyes shimmering in the light that was bursting through the windows. “She replied!” I beamed to Harry. “She did. She does.” He smiled. Harry prepared the small meal for his cat and I watched him admirably, feeling ten times more comfortable in his flat than I had been expecting to feel. Because even though it was so impressive to look at, it did feel very homely once you were in there. The red brick walls, the brown leather, how everything was so low. All the colours in there were dark, and yet somehow they were incredibly warm. All oranges and maroons and auburns. Harry blended in with that place so well. I had learnt more basics about him over our lunch, and I didn’t think I had any more questions for him, at least nothing that automatically came to mind. But just being around him was helping. It was nice to just be getting used to one another, become familiar with the others company. We had less than a month until we would be blessing my parents with our company, and the more we knew each other, the more we knew how we were naturally, the better. “Harry?” I swallowed, recalling the one thing I hadn’t asked which I had intended to. “Mm?” He returned to the kettle once Moggy was tucking in. “We’ll probably have to share a bed… when we stay at mine.” “I figured. It’ll be the same at mine too. I’m comfortable with it. Are you?” “Yeah, it doesn’t faze me. I just… I dunno. With your dreams and stuff… Are you sure you’re okay with it? I just… I don’t really know what to expect.” There was this look on his face, a look that told me clearly, that this was a thought that he had purposefully avoided. He took a deep breath in, preparing himself a drink now the kettle had boiled. “It’s convenient that it’s Christmas.” He said after a deep breath. “A lot of drinking goes down at Christmas, and the more I drink, the better. I’ll be calmer. I probably won’t wake up. But… there will be some nights… I will wake you up. I’ll… scream, and cry and… I need to apologise for it upfront. It’s not going to be nice. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what to say. It made me feel like a terrible person, but I truly had no clue what I should reply to that. What I could reply to that. I had no frame of reference, no similar experience. The worst I’d ever had was waking up after a nightmare, feeling slighty scared and out of breath. That was it. I couldn’t imagine what he went through. I couldn’t even picture it, as a way of preparing myself. I was subconsciously giving him a sympathetic look, one I imagined he was sick to the back teeth of. “If you don’t want to go through with this, I understand, but-” “Harry, I don’t care about what it’s going to be like for me. I couldn’t care less. I just… I just want to know that you’re okay with it. I can’t imagine it’s something you… like people being a part of.” “It’s not but…” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I just… feel bad that I’ll be putting it on you. I’m sorry.” “I don’t mind.” I tried to lighten the mood, chirping up my voice. “I’ll soothe you back to sleep.” “Thanks.” He chuckled. “I appreciate it.” I could tell he was still a little uncomfortable. He was choking over his own thoughts, running his hand through his curls, picking up his steaming hot tea and blowing on it in an attempt to cool it, and probably so he didn’t have to say anything. His dreams were his Achilles heel, that much was obvious. The boy was nothing but confidence and loveliness, and then as soon as that was mentioned he totally changed. “I’m sorry.” I tutted. “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “You didn’t. I’m just overthinking it. I’m sorry.” “Why are you apologising?” “I don’t even know. Let’s move on. Forget about it. Okay, whatever, I brought you back here to kiss you.” “Wait, what?” The conversation changed so rapidly, I swear my head started pounding straight away. I’d barely comprehended what he had said to be honest. When I said what, I meant it. I needed to hear what he’d said again because I hadn’t really heard it the first time round. Or, at least, I hadn’t understood it. “To kiss you. I… I brought you here to kiss you. The whole practicing kissing thing we discussed. I thought we could do that today.” I’d imagined his original, ideal way of suggesting the kiss would have been cool and collected, like it was the first time he mentioned it at the bar. But I’d kind of thrown him off course with the whole dream thing, and he’d ended up blurting it out quickly and with zero pizazz. “O-okay.” I fluttered. “That’s why we’re here?” “Well, I didn’t think we should practice kissing in public.” He exhaled. “I thought that would be a bit weird.” “This whole thing is a bit weird.” I pointed out the obvious. “I thought that would be pushing the weirdness too far though.” We were staring at each other, confusion and bewilderment creating creases on both of our faces as we tried to come to terms with what was happening. And then suddenly, we both just burst out laughing. I think it was the first time we kind of saw this ridiculous situation how it was, and it genuinely was pretty hilarious. It was hilarious how this whole thing had come about, and it was hilarious how casually we were acting, and it was hilarious how normal it all felt, and it was hilarious that he’d brought me back to his place so that we could practice kissing. It was just all so ridiculous. So bloody ridiculous. I giggled against the back of my hand and Harry hid his face in his as our chuckles died down. Moggy came and bashed her head against my leg, crying for my attention. But Harry had all of it. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together. “Right, so, let’s just do it.” “No tongues.” “No tongues!” He repeated back to me. “Just a nice… peck on the lips.” “Right.” “Right!” He nodded. We both took one step towards each other, quietly chuckling again once we had. I rearranged my hair, throwing it over my shoulders and then looking up through my lashes to him, seeing him push some of his own hair behind his ear. I was sure I’d never felt so tense in my life. “I’m just gunna do it.” He exhaled. “Okay, do it.” “I’m gunna do it now.” “Okay…” I trailed. “Just so you know.” “Okay! Do it already!” “Okay! I will! Christ, woman!” He moved his head down, and pressed a momentary, unenthusiastic kiss to my lips. Then he bolted back up, and at first he had a smile on his face, one that was questioning how I thought it went. That smile faded really quickly. “That was terrible!” I cried. “That was truly awful.” He agreed. “That was bad. That was barely a kiss. I don’t even-” “I’m ashamed of that attempt.” “SEE! This is why I said we need to practice. We’ve gotta do better than that. Okay, Okay, psych yourself up. C’mon. We can do this.” I watched as Harry started bobbing up and down on the spot, letting his wrists go loose as he flopped his arms around and dipped his head from side to side. His eyes went wide as he gestured to me that I should join him. I kind of did a half-arsed version of what he was doing. This continued for a few minutes. It was getting weirder and weirder. “Alright, I’m gunna try harder this time.” He stopped and blew out a hot pant. “I was feeling awkward last time. I don’t know why. We’re both here doing the same thing, I don’t know why I feel all embarrassed and weird.” “Go for it.” I giggled, standing still. He stepped towards me again, the front of his body meeting mine, and this was already a massive improvement on the last attempt we had made. My throat went tight. I placed a hand on his chest, as he wrapped his beast of a hand in the hair at the back of my head, all humour draining from the room as he looked down to me, and all I could hear was how fast my heart was beating and Harry’s heavy breathing. He moved down to me, slower this time, his fingers clasping around my hair as his plump lips pressed against mine, cushioning against me tenderly. I noticed his eyes were closed, because for some reason I’d kept mine open. But I eased into it. I clutched at his t-shirt and closed my eyes, pursing my lips back to him. It felt like it lasted a lifetime, and even though our mouths never opened, the kiss somehow still felt intense. Second time round, we’d nailed it. He eventually pulled away from me, his hand still wrapped in my hair, my eyes still closed. “Better?” His low voice questioned. “Yeah.” I breathed. “I thought that was good.” “It was.” I coughed, shooting my eyes open. “We need to keep it like that. Something along those lines.” “Yeah. Good.” “You can let go of my hair now.” I smiled. “Yeah!” He yelped, automatically letting go and stepping away from me. “Sorry.” The step he had taken was a big one, and the gap between us was large. Neither of us knew what to do or say. We were just lost in this weird, post-kiss atmosphere, because it wasn’t a normal kiss. This wasn’t a normal situation. I think I knew it would be Harry who finally broke the silence, because he was confident like that, but even he was struggling with exactly how we should move on from this. “Moggy, what did you think?” He directed down to the cat, who was sat staring up to the two of us. She meowed again, and honestly my heart was melting. I could tell she was a miserable cat, as Harry had told me, but the two of them did seem to have a little bond, and it was adorable. “I’d say that sounded like a relatively positive meow.” I shrugged. “I think so.” Harry moved and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She settled there right away, closing her eyes and cuddling against his frame as he gently stroked over her fur and stared down to her like she was the only important woman in his life. “I’ve been thinking.” I said, and he lifted his head back to me. “We need a thing.” “A thing?” “A certain kiss.” “You’ve lost me.” He chuckled. “So, y’know, something like a little kiss on the forehead, or something. Just a kiss that you do a lot, to me, that can become like, our kiss. Something people can pick up on. A certain way that you kiss me.” It dawned on him how much a genius idea that was, a twinkle alighting in his eye and a smirk growing across the lips that had been on mine just moments before. He put Moggy back down on the floor, and took another step towards me, thinking over what I had just said. “Okay, yeah, yeah I see what you mean.” He nodded, stopping just a step away from me. “But I feel like a forehead kiss is a little typical. I think people will just brush over that.” “Possibly, yeah. Any ideas then?” He slowly looked me up and down, seeming to take in every inch of my body, considering his options. I kept my eyes on him as he silently analysed me, giggling and shaking my head at one point, then letting him continue his work. “Two things.” He spoke after some time. “Two?” “Your hands.” He spoke simply, and stepped towards me again. “When you say something cute. When you do something cute. If we’re already holding hands then…” He grabbed my hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing tenderly against the back. He raised a brow whilst he was there, looking directly at me. “Nice.” I grinned. “Good, right?” He moved and let go of me again. “Very good.” I giggled. “And the second one?” “Your temple.” “Isn’t that just as forgettable as the forehead?” “No. So I can… cup your cheeks in my hands, and then I’ll lean down, and kiss you on your temple. It’s more noticeable. I’ll have to move my head more to get to your temple. It’s good. It’s better. Promise. Look.” He moved to me again, and did exactly what had just said. Both hands smothered each of my cheeks, tickling the lobes of my ears between his thumb and his finger, and then tilting his head so he could press his delicate kiss against my temple, his hair falling to one side as he did. His grip seemed to tighten once his lips had met my skin, his remaining fingers gripping at the top of my jaw just below my ears, and then as his lips parted from me, he made sure to nudge his nose against the very area his lips had just been. He stepped away again, and gave me a quizzical look. “Good.” I nodded. “It’s good.” “Mate, we’ve smashed this.” He clapped his hands together. “We’re fucking sorted. I’m ready to rock now.” “You think we’re ready?” I tittered. “I know we’re ready.” He grinned. “We can relax a bit more now. I’m gunna make some food and put a film on. You wanna stay?” He started routing through his cupboards automatically, which were all jammed full of food, something that wasn’t familiar to me at all. Harry was the perfect candidate for this. Because even though my mum would never get to see his flat, and see how well Harry was doing for himself, you could just tell that the boy absolutely had his life together. That obviously made his dreams more frustrating, because everything else was going so well for him, and you could tell. If I didn’t know about his dreams, I’d think he had every single aspect of his life completely sorted, and that was exactly what my parents were going to see. I smiled to him when he looked at me, waiting for my answer, and I nodded. Because of course I wanted to stay. Of course I did.

#I think like three people are reading this #BUT I HOPE ALL THREE OF YOU ARE ENJOYING IT #TFA6 #me #mine #1d #Harry Styles

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micaramel · 6 years

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As someone prone to being clumsy, I jumped at the opportunity to attend Beaumont Etiquette's "The Duchess Effect" course, taught by the company's founder Myka Meier.

The course, held at The Plaza Hotel's Palm Court, covered formal dining, waving like a duchess, getting out of cars politely, and more.

Naturally, Meier referred to Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle's etiquette throughout the class.

I struggled with some of the tasks, like sipping wine from the same place on the glass so as not to make a mess with lipstick marks, but overall I walked away with some helpful advice.

While a two-hour class does not a duchess make, I learned some valuable tips that made me feel more sophisticated and put-together.

It's a running joke in my family that I have the grace of an elephant.

When I was Princess Charlotte's age — and living not far from Prince Charles' residence at Highgrove House in Tetbury, a small town in Gloucestershire, UK — I went to ballet classes in my rain boots and refused to take them off. I didn't care to point my toes and pirouette.

As an adult, I'm prone to being clumsy. I make a small mess eating lunch at my desk. I have little patience for games that require steady hand-eye coordination. I've thrown off the ratio of my dinnerware set, having broken a bowl and chipped more than one plate.

In short, I'm hardly duchess material.

So when presented with the opportunity to attend an etiquette class entitled "The Duchess Effect" — essentially, Kate Middleton 101 — I scoffed at the thought that a two-hour class could teach me to be as graceful as a royal. But as someone fascinated by the royal family, especially with the royal wedding coming up, I took the chance. And I learned far more than I expected.

Ahead of the class, which was held at The Plaza Hotel in New York City and had a "business casual" dress code, I made an effort to look the part.

I brushed off the one dress in my wardrobe that looked closest to something Meghan Markle might wear on a cheap day: an asymmetrical navy blue Topshop dress, paired with some heeled Marc Fisher sandals. Later, I learned that I'd made a mistake choosing open-toe shoes— A duchess wouldn't be caught dead in them unless it was a formal evening event. Of course, if I could afford a pair of suede Gianvito Rossi heels, I would have reached for them.

For makeup and nails, I went for simple: a subtle blush, light lipstick, and the queen's preferred polish shade, Essie's "Ballet Slippers." I wanted to look like a duchess but not like I was trying too hard: the "dare to break royal protocol" vibe that Markle wears so well. So when it came to hair, I went with her famous casual bun.

Unfortunately, all of this preparation couldn't save me from the failings of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, and I wound up sweating in my Meghan Markle dress on the subway platform while I waited for a train that wouldn't arrive. Reasoning that a princess doesn't do the subway anyway, I tried to get a cab but at rush hour it was impossible to get a New York City taxi driver to stop, even for a duchess-in-training.

I gave up, and jogged to another subway station, where my carriage (a train!) was finally waiting.

I slipped into the class in the Palm Court 15 minutes late — not the best start — and joined a group at a table facing a tall woman in a pink blazer dress speaking to the room.

The woman in pink, Beaumont Etiquette's founder Myka Meier, was in the midst of talking about how to set a knife and fork on a plate correctly. (It turns out, if you're at a formal dinner party and still eating, your knife and fork should be set down, fork with prongs down, in a four-thirty position.) Meier, a dual American-British citizen who is originally from Florida, was trained by a former member of the Queen's household staff while living in the UK; after her own formal training, Meier began teaching etiquette to others. "The Duchess Effect" course, focused on royal British etiquette, has become increasingly popular as the world waits to watch a gorgeous American actress marry a handsome British prince.

I imagined the class might be a little like the etiquette scene of "The Princess Diaries" where Mia Thermopolis (Anne Hathaway) learns how to ballroom dance and do a "royal wave" at the behest of her grandmother (Julie Andrews), the queen of Genovia. The Beaumont Etiquette class wasn't quite like that — there was no ballroom dancing, or Julie Andrews judging me — but I did learn how to do what's called a "Windsor wave" among the other basics of royal British etiquette.

The class covered six topics: first impressions, handshakes and curtsies, body language, posture and development, British and American dining, and style.

Occasionally, Meier referred to a slideshow presentation filled with photos of Markle and Middleton demonstrating excellent etiquette — including before-and-after photos that showed how far Markle has come in her training.

In the dining portion of the class, I learned to hold a teacup with the saucer only when standing up, to stir tea from twelve to six (not clockwise or counterclockwise), and to sip a wine glass from the same point every time, so as to limit the transfer of lipstick to the glass. Meier challenged us to drink our wine from the same spot throughout the class, but the deeper I got into my pinot noir the more it slipped my mind. By the end my glass had accumulated an unsightly cluster of lipstick marks, but at least they were confined to a small area. I wonder if Markle, who enjoys red wine as much as I do, ever has the same problem.

I also learned about dinner conversation, which was helpful in preparation for the next time I find myself at a state dinner. Although it was fascinating to learn how people in high society behave at dinners, the conversation topics sound rather dull. It's best not to delve into religion, politics, or anything too personal — and even stay away from that staple of small talk, the weather, since it's cliché. Meier suggested reading the news ahead of an event so you have talking points instead. Still, I wondered, once you'd gotten through those topics (provided they aren't about religion or politics) what would be left to talk about.

After learning the ins and outs of dinner, I learned some of the royal poses and moves, like curtsying (depending on your style, you can lean into your kneel like Middleton or go for a more subtle knee dip, like Markle) and how to sit with a "duchess slant."

A duchess slant is a good way to describe the demure way that Middleton and now Markle sit, with both legs slanted to the side, and sometimes one ankle discreetly crossed behind the other. As someone who usually has horrible posture, the duchess slant isn't a pose I'll likely get used to, but I tried my best to sit this way throughout the class.

Here's my interpretation of the pose.

And now, let the professionals show you how it's done.

In addition to sitting, I've been getting out of cars the wrong way my entire life. While Will and Harry can simply place one foot out of a car followed by the other, Middleton and Markle maintain their composure by holding their skirt, pivoting in their seat, and springing out of the vehicle. (If you're in pants, though, you can exit a car like Will and Harry.) Meier christened this car move a "swivel and pop," inspired by Elle Woods' foolproof "bend and snap" in "Legally Blonde" — a maneuver that never fails to pick up men.

Full disclosure, Meier said she made up this expression, as well as the duchess slant and Windsor wave, so they're easy to remember: Markle and Middleton likely don't use these expressions themselves. But , now that I've learned them, I can't stop noticing them in photos of the royals.

Another notable gesture is the Windsor wave. This, I found the easiest to master. You simply raise your hand, keep your elbow up, fingers together, and wave. A smile helps, too.

As you can see, Middleton had perfected the practice by her wedding day.

Markle has also learned to do the Windsor wave.

In less formal settings, though, she may go for a more relaxed wave.

While these gestures may seem small, they are just some of the many codes of polite conduct that Middleton and Markle must follow every day.

The etiquette class taught me that acting like a duchess is a lot harder than these elegant, seemingly perfect women make it look. But the class also reminded me that practicing good etiquette is an act. That's not a bad thing, though.

For my job, I spend a lot of time editing stories about the royals, specifically about Middleton and Markle. I often think about the appeal these women have, the powerful yet quiet hold they have over the public. Their appeal extends far beyond their gorgeous looks. It's about the way they carry themselves. Their grace, and composure. Their impeccable manners.

These are women who smile under the glare of cameras and give a Windsor wave to crowds at times when they probably don't feel like it. Middleton had a baby, and then emerged from the hospital hours later in a crisp Jenny Packham dress to smile and wave at crowds while holding Prince Louis. Markle has had every facet of her life talked about in the lead-up to the wedding, and the ways she fits and does not fit into the royal family picked apart.

Except for those close to them, no one will get to know the real Middleton and Markle behind their shiny duchess veneer. But learning some of what they have learned has taught me something about them. It felt like a shared experience, one that Middleton has learned and passed with flying colors, and that Markle is still learning.

As Meier put it, etiquette is all about presenting yourself with respect. Those words stuck with me, and I left the class with a renewed respect for Middleton and Markle.

While a two-hour class does not a duchess make, I learned some valuable tips that made me feel more sophisticated and put-together. I likely won't stop being clumsy or getting flustered when the subway is late, but I will remember to breathe for a moment and think, "What would a duchess do?" The answer would probably be something polite.

Find out more about Beaumont Etiquette's course offerings on its website.

SEE ALSO: 5 etiquette rules Meghan Markle has to follow as an American joining the royal family

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