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daytaker · 4 months

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Hi! I'd Like to request something for obey me. So MC is an Artist Like Semi realistic or so and then they draw the brothers and themself all together Like some Kind of Family Photo for maybe a sweet gesture to appriciat them, what would the reaction be?

First of all, that's adorable. Second of all, yes, absolutely.

Everyone

The immediate question on everyone's mind is where it should be put. The suggestions are fairly predictable. Beel wants it in the kitchen. Satan wants it in the library. Belphie wants it in the observatory. Asmo thinks it should go in his bathroom, and he acts amazed when his brothers disagree.

You'll probably be the one to suggest making some copies of it if they like it so much. That way they can all have one. The brothers all like this idea, so you head off to the Devildom equivalent of a FedEx store and make some quick copies for everybody.

Eventually, the original work will find pride of place above the fireplace, where everyone will get plenty of time to admire it, including guests. The brothers are all very proud to explain to them that they have a very close friend who's an artist, thank you, and they made that piece of artwork up there for them, for free, because they love them all so much. What do you mean it's too small for that big of a space? Clearly you don't understand art, they'll tell the guest. Satan smirks; Levi rolls his eyes; Asmo whispers something to Mammon and they both start snickering. Real mean girl energy.

Lucifer

It's proved to be more or less impossible to get a photograph with himself and all six of his brothers, so this is an immediate hit with him. Plus, you're in it, which makes it even more valuable. He wonders why he didn't commission a painted family portrait earlier. It just hadn't crossed his mind, he supposes.

He'll buy a very nice and expensive frame for the picture and have it professionally mounted on a backboard. Only a museum quality display will do.

He enjoys looking at the artwork now and then and mentally noting all the details he likes. You captured Mammon's smug smile perfectly, and somehow Levi looks happy, but still like himself. Of course, his favorite part of the picture (along with you, of course) is himself. He thinks he looks very dignified, and he appreciates that you placed him in the center; the true patriarch of the family. Besides that (though he wouldn't bring it up unprompted), he thinks you made him look very handsome, and he likes the idea that you see him that way.

Mammon

You put him next to you?! I mean, of course you did! He's your number one demon, right? Obviously he belongs right next to you! He'll point out his positioning in the picture to his brothers often enough that they've gotten past feeling annoyed about it and just tease him for simping so openly.

He thinks it looks a little bit like you're smiling at him in the picture. You're not. You're staring into the 'camera', just like everyone else. But he tells himself that. He has another copy of the picture made where he cropped out everyone besides the two of you. He keeps it in his sock drawer so he can pull it out when he's by himself and admire it. Lucifer has walked in on him lying on his back and holding it up, staring wistfully at the picture, often enough that he can tell by how quiet it is when Mammon is either sleeping or staring at that goddamn picture of his again.

Speaking of extra copies, he also made some more to try and sell at RAD, but, shockingly, cheap copies of a picture of someone else's family didn't sell well. Diavolo bought one though, as did Simeon. Yeah, maybe it wasn't exactly ethical to try and capitalize on your artwork, but, well, come on, he's in it, and you gave it to him, so that kind of makes him the owner of it, right...?

Leviathan

He's pretty sure he's not breathing right now. That's... That's how he looks? To you? He looks....amazing....!! Look at his smile! His jawline! His glossy hair! His cheeks, touched with color---!!! You must think he's... like....... Ugh, it's stupid, like, who even cares? Nobody, that's who. Nobody except him. He cares. And he wishes his stomach would settle down a little bit before lunch explodes onto the rug. So he'll just take his copy of the painting, clutch it to his chest, and giggle to himself as he slinks off to his room while everyone else stands admiring the painting on the mantlepiece.

Now, to really study this thing. He lies in his bathtub and squints at the painting. He realizes, to his dismay, that all his brothers look extra hot in this thing too. Hrmm... But, whatever! The important part is that he looks amazing! His eyes are shining, his skin looks healthy and smooth, and.... well.... he doesn't look like somebody it'd be weird for you to be into, maybe. Maybe? Possibly.

He's pretty shy around you for a few days after you give them all the picture. He's not really sure how he's supposed to react around someone who thinks he's... h....ha-ha....handsome...???? And not just that, but the look on his face! Does he make faces like that in real life? Does he make faces like that in front of you?

He spends a good chunk of time in front of the mirror trying to imitate the look from the painting, but he can't quite get it right. He always ends up crumbling into a pathetic, groaning, blushing little creep and fleeing the bathroom. He hates himself. But he can cheer himself up with the knowledge that you definitely don't hate him, right? How could you draw someone you hated looking like... like....?!?

Satan

Knowing Satan is someone who admires art in general, you were most nervous about him seeing it. He has a tendency to be fairly blunt and honest, and you really hoped he'd just appreciate the thought behind the picture without subjecting it to any kind of critical analysis.

But of course he did it anyway. He'd expressed his appreciation just like his brothers had when you first gave it to them, but you'd often see him standing in front of the fireplace staring up at the picture with a hand to his chin after that.

Satan's initial thought, after the excitement over the gift and how cute and nervous you looked giving it to them all, is that the composition of the piece, while not particularly original, has definite visual appeal. While he doesn't particularly enjoy Lucifer's position in the middle, he understands why you put him there, both artistically and psychologically. Lucifer dominates almost any group he's in with his annoyingly hefty self-confidence. His ego is smeared all over the picture, but that's not your fault. That's just Lucifer, being awful and ruining things, like he always does.

When he finally gives some attention to how he looks in the painting, he's pleasantly surprised. He looks refreshingly like himself, but also like he's meant to be there, with everybody else. He can also tell you spent some time on his eyes. They look lovely. If you ever want to paint them again, he'd be happy to model for you. What, shy all of a sudden?

Asmodeus

Well, obviously he's the real star of the artwork. It's as if he's glowing, washing out his brothers with his effervescent presence on the canvas! Clearly, you know your art. Never mind he's the only one who seems to quite see the picture in that way.

He has his copy of the painting framed and hung up in his bathroom, where he thought the original should have been put all along. Now he never feels like he's alone in the tub! Every once in a while, he'll talk to the artwork while he takes a bath. Just to amuse himself. But when you go back to the human world, 'every once in a while' becomes 'almost every day'.

He has a theory that if someone stares into the eyes of Painting Asmo too deeply for too long, they'll fall in love with him. The painting version of him, that is. He knows that's silly, so he keeps it to himself, but he can't stop himself from imagining you mesmerized by your own painting of him, bewitched by the very eyes you painted...

Beel

Honestly, Beel is just happy you made a picture including him, his brothers, and you. You put him right beside Belphie with an arm slung around his shoulders. He's smiling more in the picture than he normally does in real life, but that doesn't bother him at all. He wants to look happy in this kind of painting.

He taped his copy of the picture to the refrigerator door. Everyone appreciates this, not just Beel, though he definitely sees it the most often. After you go home, he says good morning to you every day when he first heads to the fridge. It's a nice way to feel like you're still around.

Belphie

Wow... He looks adorable here. And you didn't include him drooling like his brothers always do when they draw him. Though it really isn't fair to compare this to the "drawings" his brothers have made to make fun of each other. Idiots...

You put him right next to Beel. That makes him smile. And he looks...like he's happy to be there. Maybe not grinning like a doofus, but like this is his family, and he's pretty okay with it.

He keeps his copy of the picture taped to his bedpost so he can look at it whenever he feels lonely, especially after your year in the Devildom comes to an end.

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21wanderer · 1 month

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Night at the Museum

Perhaps there had been signs he had overlooked, maybe there had been plenty of clues that something was going to happen at the museum, that someone had made plans and preparations, and it was culminating tonight.

The museum had amongst its collections, a collection of movie memorabilia, one of the memorabilia being a set of costumes of Batman and Robin from the movie of the same name from 1997 with George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell in the respective roles. A movie of questionable quality certainly, but iconic in its own way.

The suits were by no means unique, as there were made multiple of them during the taping of the movie, but now a set was on display here along side other superhero and movie pieces. As the night watch, he was responsible for keeping an eye on all these artefacts, which usually wasn’t particularly eventful, he might do some cleaning and some fixes around the museum, but otherwise, there wasn’t much to do. Not that he complained, he loved history and could enjoy the exhibits by himself. He did have a particular good eye for the Batman and Robin costumes, but apparently he wasn’t the only one.

An uneventful night became very eventful, when he entered the movie memorabilia collection, he had heard voices and went to investigate. Half of the security cameras weren’t working, which probably was a sign, that something bad was going to happen, but he still went to check. As soon as he entered the room, he was assaulted and overpowered by two masked men. They pressed him firmly against the wall, whilst stuffing a gag into his mouth, they then forced him down on a chair, and tied him to it with rope from their duffle bag. They didn’t seemed fazed by the night watch, quite the contrary, they seemed even more excited, as if they had wanted someone to witness this… And the night watch, whilst fearful and shocked, felt something stir inside him.

These two burglars were a mystery, they didn’t seem like your typical burglar, there were something strange about their approach and their goal, that the night watch would soon come to realize. He saw them approach the Batman display, whispering excitedly to one another, not even caring that he was sitting here watching everything. Had his mouth not been gagged, his jaw would have dropped, as he saw the two men do, what he had always dreamt of doing; touching the suits.

The burglars began to undress the two mannequins, the night watch trying to figure out exactly what they were doing and why. He could feel his stomach twisting and turning as he looked in fear, but also longing as the superhero costumes were disassembled and discarded on the floor.

They had undressed the two mannequins of Batman and Robin and thrown all the neoprene and leather on the floor. The night watch was baffled, if they wanted to steal the suits, why haven’t they just stuffed them in their duffle back and ran? Was there more they wanted?

From their duffle bag one of the masked figure pulled out a utility knife. A chill ran down the night watch’s spine. What were they planning? He stared entranced and fearful, his conflicting emotions made it difficult for him to think straight. He was starting to remember the potential danger he was in, he stared at it with his heart in his throat, fearing that this could turn ugly pretty quickly.

But to his surprise and bewilderment, they did something else. With the blade of the knife one of the masked men began cutting off the head of the naked Robin mannequin, he then handed it to his accomplice, who took the head and turned his back on the night watch.

With his free hand the burglar pulled off his balaclava and dropped it on the floor. The night watch could only see the back of his head, but he appeared to be young and skinny with a buzz cut haircut.

To the night watch’s big surprise the young man plunged his head into the hollowed out Robin-head, pushing and pulling the silicone into place. The night watch wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but he could not take his eyes of it. After what seemed like an eternity the new ’Robin’ turned around a flashed a smile. It was unbelievable, it was so realistic. It was like the young Chris O’Donnell stood in the room, the night watch was in awe, he now knew exactly what the burglars wanted, and he felt aroused, he felt insatiable, as terrified as he was, he wanted to see it all.

The still masked burglar nodded in approval, having dropped the headless Robin silicone mannequin on the floor, he then went over to the naked ’Batman’.

And just like before, he cut off the head, turned his back on the night watch, pulled off his mask and plunged his head into the hollowed Batman’s.

Once the other burglar was satisfied with his new face, he turned towards his accomplice, who placed his hand on the George Clooney-impersonator’s face, before leaning in and kissing him.

Despite the potential danger he was in, the night watch eagerly awaited, what he assumed the burglars would do next. He wasn’t sure they would actually do it, but they didn’t disappoint him. They stripped themselves of their black onesies, and ran the utility knife down the spines of both of the mannequins, creating large enough gaps for them to enter.

Slowly, but steadily they both began to force their way inside the hollow mannequins. The night watch felt like his nether regions were about to explode at the sight. The two men were transforming into movie stars as their scrawny bodies disappeared into the silicone, replacing them with the perfectly sculpted physiques of Batman and Robin.

There was something completely breathtaking about their actions. The night watch could only dream of what it would be like to slip into a silicone body like that, instantly gaining flawless skin, a handsome face and some quick and easy muscle mass. He wanted nothing more, than to be like those two right now.

Once they were both inside they began a process of self-gratification, rubbing their hands all over their new smooth and toned bodies. The night watch was in awe at the sight. It was flawless. The two impersonators were clearly as aroused as him as they embraced each other, kissing each other deeply and passionately with their erections pressing against each other.

Having lost any sense of time, their make-out could have lasted hours as they caressed their new ’naked’ bodies, clearly beyond satisfied with their result. But they weren’t quite done yet, there was still a final trick in their bag.

They began rubbing some sort of paste on each other’s backs and around their necks. It dawned on the night watch what they were doing… They were sealing themselves inside. He would have thought that it would have been unbearably warm inside those silicone bodies, but apparently it wasn’t the case. They were going all in, no turning back, they wanted to stay as Clooney and O'Donnell forever.

The night watch couldn’t bear it anymore, he was so full of longing and desire and without knowing it and despite the gag, he let out a deep and audible moan.

For the first time for what seemed like hours, the impersonators turned towards their spectator, they both chuckled, seemingly enjoying they were being watched. The naked George-impersonator took a few steps toward their hostage: ”I hope you are enjoying the show, it’s only halfway done.” Did he have any idea, how much their witness was into this?

’George’ flexed his right arm, it responded flawlessly, you wouldn’t believe it wasn’t real unless you had seen, what had transpired before. ‘George’ turned away, looking at ’Chris’ who had begun pulling on the Robin-costume.

The night watch stared still entranced, no longer feeling any fear, just unyielding desire. ‘Chris’ had slipped into the pants of the Robin-suit, they were a perfect fit of course, maybe even a little tighter, but the mannequin was made to fit the proportions of the suit, and now, in some bizarre way, they still were.

‘George’ had also put on the pants of the Batman-suit and then helped ‘Chris’ zipping the back of Robin’s top. ‘Chris’ returned the favour as ‘George’ slipped into Batman’s top. The mannequins were almost completely dressed, they put on the costumes’ gloves, boots, belts and capes, then ‘Batman’ pulled on his leather cowl and ‘Robin’ his mask.

The transformation was complete, it was like the mannequins had simply come to life, except it really wasn’t that. It was almost more unbelievable. The two burglars strutted around for a bit, getting comfortable in their new skins and costumes. The night watch was so deeply infatuated, he could only imagine, how they must feel, how he wanted to be them.

“Are you satisfied?” said ‘Batman’ to ‘Robin’. “Very satisfied,” ‘Robin’ replied, whilst tweaking the nipples of his suit, “this feels so good.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” ‘Batman’ responded with a chuckle, running his gloved hand down to his suit’s crotch. ‘Robin’ wrapped his arms around ‘Batman’ and pulled him towards himself and they locked lips once again. The night watch moaned again, as he felt like climaxing any moment, he couldn’t contain himself anymore. The two ‘superheroes’ turned to look at him.

”I think he’s into it!” ’Batman’ laughed to ’Robin’ like they had been completely aware of it from the start. The ‘dark knight’ walked towards the night watch, whose heartbeat began to increase with every step of the approaching ‘hero’.

‘Batman’ placed his hand firmly on the night watch’s erection, giving it a few tugs. “Yeah, you are really into it, aren’t you? We had a feeling…”

The night watch let out another moan, the culmination of a most eventful night.

‘Batman’ walked away and began picking up the clothes of their former identities, the burglars’ balaclavas, onesies and so forth, all the traces of what they had been.

’Robin’ chuckled and walked up to their hostage. He placed his boot firmly on the night watch’s aroused member and smiled the boyish smile of the young Chris O'Donnell. ’Robin’ leaned in on the night watch, their faces so close, that he could smell the silicone and the warmth radiating from it, ’Robin’ placed his mouth inches from the night watch’s ear and whispered sensually: “If you let us get away… We’ll make it worth your while. You can join us if you want. If this turns you on as much as it does us, then I think we’ll get along nicely, and we can even get you a skin like ours.”

’Robin’ stepped back, ’Batman’ was done tidying up after them.

”Give it some thought,” said ’Robin’, “we’ll make sure, you won’t regret it.” The night watch felt the ropes loosen and the gag too. ‘Robin’ then gave him a kiss on the cheek, the night watch felt the warm silicone against his skin, it felt so realistically, he then felt ‘Robin’s’ tongue in his ear, and he almost felt like fainting from the hotness.

The sound of two heavy sets of leather boots walking echoed through the empty halls as the ‘dark knight’ and the ‘boy wonder’ left the crime scene, leaving the night watch behind, pondering what his next move should be.

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tiny-pretty-sana · 29 days

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tzuyu gf | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), minors dni, men dni

sfw

tzuyu is the kind of person who makes you feel safe, gives you stability and keeps you grounded. she feels like home. however, she is much more than that, she is an adventurous and passionate person. she is home, but she is also the breath of fresh air that comes in through the window

she has a dual personality and regardless of how well you know her by now, she still surprises you

she is the shyest person you have ever known, but she is also the most shameless.

when you first met her she was timid and quiet, but as she felt comfortable around you and opened up more she started showing her more playful and funny side

it didn't take you long to discover that she has a quick mind when it comes to giving sharp, unexpected, sarcastic and incredibly funny responses

she does it with her friends and on occasion with annoying strangers, and eventually she dared to do it with you as well

she has the ability to read the room and people very well. just by looking at your face she knows when you are happy, when you need space or when you need a hug

this quality allows her to easily fit into all kinds of situations

when tzuyu wants she can go unnoticed the same way she draws all the attention whenever she wants. of course she knows exactly what she has to do to get your attention in a room full of people

she has a bit of a tsundere side. she isn’t the biggest fan of pda, places her hand over your mouth when you come up to kiss her, likes to tease you and whines when you are clingy.

secretly, she enjoys the attention and loves when you baby her.

she prefers subtle displays of affection but when you are alone she’s more affectionate

she plans the best dates. she always comes up with some way to make the dates unique

for example, on your first date she took you to a dog cafe instead of a regular cafe

museums, markets, outdoor painting, picnics, pottery classes or a spa day are the kind of dates she usually organizes for special occasions.

tzuyu’s love language is gift giving. if she sees something that reminds her of you she will just buy it. she also likes giving you things that will remind you of her on your relationships

you already share a few matching bracelets, necklaces, keychains and phone cases

she also loves bringing things that she bakes on special days and when she’s staying over, she never comes empty handed

she has a strange habit of talking to you like her dogs. the first time she did it you almost choked and she almost died of embarrassment, now you are used to it and find it adorable

be careful because she has 8 overprotective unnies who would do anything for tzuyu which you quickly understood since she’s easy to love and awakens the protective instinct of anyone

luckily, getting the love of her dogs was much easier and only took a couple of walks, a few treats and some belly rubs

tzuyu loves visiting new places whether it be traveling to other countries, taking you to her home country or a short trip to the beach or a more rural area

when you two travel she tries as much local food as possible and convinces you to try them as well. then she replicates the dishes she liked at home. lately she has improved a lot and she cooks better and better

she cooks your comfort food when you’re feeling down

she never cries but she is very sensitive when it comes to certain issues that are very important to her, that's why you freaked out when after your first time she cried. it turns out that she realized how much she loves you

nsfw

she is shy and seems innocent, but she is also open to experimenting and wants to try new things

she enjoys vanilla sex as much as she enjoys kinky sex, it depends on the mode you are in.

tzuyu was not the most experienced person and that's why you wanted to go slow but she was dying to get intimate with you

the first time you went made up you had to stop her and tell her to slow down because it was rushed and sloppy, not because of her inexperience, in fact she's a very good kisser, but because of how eager she was

when you kiss her unexpectedly or make a suggestive comment she literally freezes, so it was a surprise for both of you to discover that she leans more to the dominant side

she's a soft and gentle dom, a side she's starting to explore more with you

she loves kissing your face and body when you do it, caressing you and giving you little nibbles

she loves praising you. she uses more petnames during sex than she does in front of people, that's why if you hear her call you ‘princess’ or ‘baby’ in public you can't help but blush

tzuyu is one of the most caring people you know and it's something she shows in bed too

you’re above her shyness and you comfortable and safe, so she’s getting more vocal about asking if you like what she is doing or asking you to guide her when she needs it

she enjoys giving as well as receiving, so she’s quite comfortable being both top and bottom.

she’s not very loud. when she’s bottoming she moans but has the habit of trying to cover her mouth with her hand or her pillow, when she tops she breathes deeply and sometimes you can hear her groans even if she tries to contain herself

she’s a good at kissing and using her mouth, she really enjoys eating you out but she’d rather be on the receiving end

she likes much more fingering you or using a strap, something she had never used before

the first time she put on the strap on she came out of the bathroom completely red and couldn't look you in the face until after a while

now it is something she enjoys very much and has bought a few different dildos so you can have more options

as someone who likes to give gifts, from time to time she gets spicy gifts for both of you like lingerie or a toy she’s curious to try

her other favorite positions are scissoring, 69 and tribbing. it allows her to give and receive pleasure from a dominant position, guiding you with her words and leading you with her movements

something that drives her crazy is making you touch yourself in front of her and guiding you while you do it

for someone who sometimes avoids physical touch she can sometimes be very needy when she really wants to make you feel good and be inside you

she’s curious about bondage. she thinks you would look beautiful tied up unable to move, being at her mercy

she also thinks you would look great with a collar around your neck.

during your vacations she likes doing it in the hotel room, always in the spot with the best view. it doesn't matter if it's the bed, the bathroom or the balcony. she likes to enjoy the view

lately you have tried degradation, spanks and other ways of inflicting light pain. it was a surprise to her how turned on she got from seeing her hands marked on your ass

just like she does with dates she gets creative with aftercare and is always looking for new ways to make you feel good that go beyond cuddles. although, she tries to play it down, she needs a lot of aftercare too, especially when you have tried degradation, bondage or anything that leaves marks on you for a few days

#°❀‿request #twice headcanons #twice imagines #twice smut #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu hcs #tzuyu headcanons #tzuyu x reader #gg imagines #gg head canons

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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You can’t shop your way out of a monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then SAN FRANCISCO (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

If you're running a business, you can either invest at being good at your business, or good at Google SEO. Choose the former and your customers will love you – but they won't be able to find you, thanks to the people who choose the latter. And if you're going to invest in top-notch SEO, why bother investing in quality at all?

For more than a decade, Google has promised that it would do something about "lead gens" – services that spoof Google into thinking that they are local businesses, pushing down legit firms on both regular search and Google Maps (these downranked businesses invested in quality, not SEO, remember). Search for a roofer, a plumber, an electrician, or a locksmith (especially a locksmith), and most or all of the results will be lead-gens. They'll take your call, pretend to be a local business, and then call up some half-qualified bozo to come out and charge you four times the going rate for substandard work:

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/31/business/fake-online-locksmiths-may-be-out-to-pick-your-pocket-too.html

Some of them just take your money and they "go back to the shop for a tool" and never return:

https://www.riverfronttimes.com/news/when-a-fake-business-used-a-real-st-louis-address-things-got-weird-32087998

Google has been promising to fix this since the late aughts, and to be fair, it's a little better. There was once a time when a map of Manhattan showed more locksmiths than taxis:

https://blumenthals.com/blog/2009/02/18/google-maps-proves-more-locksmiths-in-nyc-than-cabs/

But GMaps is trapped in the enshittification squeeze. On the one hand, the company wants to provide a good and reliable map. On the other hand, the company makes money selling "ads" that are actually payola, where a business can pay to get to the top of the listings or get displayed on the map itself. Zoom out of Google's map of central London and the highlighted landmarks are a hilarious mix of "organic" and paid listings: the British Museum, Buckingham Palace, the Barbican, the London Eye…and a random oral and maxillofacial clinic in the financial district:

https://twitter.com/dylanbeattie/status/1764711667663831455

Hell of a job "organizing the world's information and making it universally accessible and useful," Big G. Doubtless the average Londoner finds the presence of this clinic super helpful in orienting themselves relative to the map on their phone screens, and it's a real service to tourists hoping to hit all the major landmarks.

It's not just Maps users who'd noticed the rampant enshittification. Even the original design team is so horrified they're moved to speak out about the moral injury they experience seeing the product they worked so hard on turned into a giant pile of shit:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Now, when it comes to locksmiths, I'm lucky. My neighborhood in Burbank includes the wonderful Golden State Lock and Safe, which has been in business since 1942:

https://www.goldenstatelock.com/

But you wouldn't know it from searching GMaps for a locksmith near me. That search turns up a long list of scams:

https://www.google.com/maps/search/locksmith/@34.1750451,-118.369948,14z/data=!3m1!4b1?entry=ttu

It also turns up plenty of Keyme machines – these are private-equity backed, self-serve key-cutting machines placed in grocery stores. Despite Keyme calling itself a "locksmith," it's just a badly secured, overcaptilized, enshittification-bound system for collecting and retaining shapefiles for the keys to millions of homes, cross-referenced with billing information that will make it easy for the eventual hackers to mass-produce keys for all those poor suckers' houses.

(Hilariously, Keyme claims to be an "AI" company):

https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20200114005194/en/KeyMe-Raises-35-Million-to-Further-Its-Mission-of-Building-the-Premier-Locksmith-Services-Company-in-the-Nation

But despite the fact that you can literally see the Golden State storefront from Google Streetview, Google Maps claims to have no knowledge of it. Instead, Streetview labels Golden State "Keyme" – and displays a preview showing a locksmith using a tool to break into a jeep (I'd dearly love to know how the gadget next to the Slurpee machine at the 7-Eleven will drive itself to your jeep and unlock the door for you when you lose your keys):

https://www.google.com/maps/place/KeyMe+Locksmiths/@34.1752624,-118.3487531,3a,75y,350.19h,90.21t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1ssHrtqjqvgFir3NBauMy13Q!2e0!7i16384!8i8192!4m15!1m8!3m7!1s0x80c2959cd65dbb1b:0x4b3744cf87492a71!2sBurbank+Blvd+%26+N+Hollywood+Way,+Burbank,+CA+91505!3b1!8m2!3d34.1750025!4d-118.3493484!16s%2Fg%2F11f37_3lq8!3m5!1s0x80c2951cedbf4d39:0xe8ff9fd5872e66e9!8m2!3d34.1755176!4d-118.349!16s%2Fg%2F11mw7nr4fx?entry=ttu

It's pretty clear to me what's going on here. Keyme has hired some SEO creeps and/or paid off Google, flooding the zone with listings for its machines. Meanwhile, Golden State, being merely good at locksmithing, has lost the SEO wars. Perhaps Golden State could shift some of its emphasis from being good at locksmithing in order to get better at SEO, but this is a race that will always be won by the firm that puts the most into SEO, which will always be the firm that puts the least into quality.

Whenever I write about this stuff, people inevitably ask me which search engine they should use, if not Google?

And there's the rub.

Google used predatory pricing and anticompetitive mergers to acquire a 90% search market-share. The company spends more than $26b/year buying default position in every place where you might possibly encounter a new search engine. This created the "kill zone" – the VC's term of art for businesses that no one will invest in, because Google makes sure that no one will ever find out it exists:

https://www.theverge.com/23802382/search-engine-google-neeva-android

That's why the only serious competitor to Google is Bing, another Big Tech company (Bing is also the primary source of results on Duckduckgo, which is why DDG sometimes makes exceptions for Microsoft's privacy-invading tracking):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DuckDuckGo#Controversies

Google tells us that the quid-pro-quo of search monopolization is search excellence. The hundreds of billions it makes every year through monopoly control gives it the resources it needs to fight spammers and maintain search result quality. Anyone who's paid attention recently knows that this is bullshit: Google search quality is in free-fall, across all its products:

https://downloads.webis.de/publications/papers/bevendorff_2024a.pdf

But Google doesn't seem to think it has a problem. Rather than devoting all its available resources to fighting botshit, spam and scams, the company set $80 billion dollars alight last year with a stock buyback that was swiftly followed with 12,000 layoffs, followed by multiple subsequent rounds of layoffs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The scams that slip through Google's cracks are sometimes nefarious, but just as often they're decidedly amateurish, the kind of thing that Google could fix by throwing money at the problem, say, to validate that new ads for confirmed Google merchants come from the merchant's registered email addresses and go to the merchant's registered website:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Search is a capital intensive business, and there are real returns to scale, as the UK Competition and Market Authority's excellent 2020 study describes:

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/5fe4957c8fa8f56aeff87c12/Appendix_I_-_search_quality_v.3_WEB_.pdf

But Google doesn't seem to think that its search needs that $80 billion to fight the spamwars. That's the thing about monopolists, they get complacent. As Lily Tomlin's "Ernestine the AT&T operator" used to say, "We don't care, we don't have to, we're the phone company."

That's why I'm so excited about the DOJ Antitrust Division monopolization case against Google. Trusting one company to "organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful," was a failure:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-sues-google-monopolizing-digital-advertising-technologies

I understand why people want to know which search engine they should use instead of Google, and I get why, "There aren't any good search engines" is such an unsatisfactory answer. I understand why each fresh round of printer-company fuckery prompts people to ask "which printer should I get?" and I understand why "There are only six major printer companies and they're all suffering from end-stage enshittification" isn't what anyone wants to hear.

We want to be able to vote with our wallets, because it's so much faster and more convenient than voting with our ballots. But the vote-with-your-wallet election is rigged for the people with the thickest wallets. Try as hard as you'd like, you just can't shop your way out of a monopoly – that's like trying to recycle your way out of the climate emergency. Systemic problems need systemic solutions – not individual ones.

That's why the new antitrust matters so much. The answer to monopolies is to break up companies, block and unwind mergers, ban deceptive and unfair conduct. "Caveat emptor" is the scammer's motto. You shouldn't have to be an expert on lead gen scams to hire a locksmith without getting ripped off.

There are good products and services out there. Earlier this year, we decided to install a (non-networked) programmable pushbutton lock. I asked Deviant Ollam – whom I know from Defcon's Lockpicking Village – for a recommendation and he suggested the Schlage FE595:

https://www.schlage.com/en/home/products/FE595PLYFFFFLA.html

I liked it so much I bought another one for my office door. Eric from Golden State Lock and Safe installed it while I wrote this blog-post. It's great. I recommend both of 'em – 10/10, would do business again.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#vapor-locksmith

Image: alicia rae (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kehole_Red.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

Budhiargomiko (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wasteland.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #enshittification #locksmith scams #google #google maps #monopoly #doj #seo #big tech

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

SUBTLE

A/N: this idea got stuck on my mind and i thought i would just type it out so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY: Harry's not so subtle way of hinting that he is in the mood.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There are celebrities that never wear the same outfit twice. Some keep them tucked away in their closet, probably hoping one day they will be displayed in museums and some just simply get rid of them once the clothes are off of their bodies.

Well, your boyfriend is definitely not one of these people. He is the king of wearing something over and over again until it’s totally ruined and can’t be worn again. The best example is his crusty Vans he always wears to the maximum before even considering buying a new one. When Harry likes something, a shirt, a hat or a pair of pants, he is the biggest outfit repeater and that’s something you love so much about him, because it’s so mundane, so down-to-earth.

His most worn shirt however is a surprising one. Well, not to you, because he wears it because of you so whenever you spot him sporting it, you know what his intentions are.

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, it’s been raining all weekend so you’ve spent most of it snuggled up at home, watching movies, cooking and spending some well-deserved quality time together after such a busy week. For the past hour you’ve been glued to the couch with your favorite chunky blanket and a book that you haven’t gotten around to read during the weekdays. Your tea is set on the side table, an hour ago it was steaming hot, but now it’s more like room temperature and half of it is also gone. A pair of old sweatpants has been your uniform since yesterday and today you paired them with one of Harry’s many graphic shirts.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you haven’t seen him for a while now. Last time he mumbled something about having a riff stuck on his mind before he wandered off into his home studio. It’s been radio silence since then and you got to focus fully on your fantasy book.

Harry emerges from the studio after about one and a half hour that he spent strumming away on his guitar, recording a possible new hit song for his next album. Making music usually makes him feel two ways. First one, which happens more often is hungry. His creativity takes a lot of energy and he is a big boy, he needs food to fuel his body and brain as well. The second one however… that’s what causes him the most issues, especially when he is not recording at home and this is what he feels right now as well.

He’s horny.

The song he worked on was heavily inspired by you and the intimate moments he spent with you in the past months and reliving them definitely got him worked up, that’s why he had to put down his guitar and find a solution to his little situation.

But instead of just looking for you, he sneaks into his closet and grabs the shirt he’s been using with ulterior motives lately. He gets rid of his hoodie and then pulls the other shirt over his head before checking himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning over the “Sex” sign over his chest. He can’t help but smile at the sight of the shirt he wore on SNL, which was such an iconic appearance.

He wanders out of the closet and then the bedroom, looking for you with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip to hide his cheeky smirk. He finds you right where left you before his studio session, snuggled up on the couch with your book, your lips moving as you ready but it’s hard to notice. Your eyes are scanning over the lines, one hand holding the book, the other one playing with the necklace he got you for your birthday two years ago. You look adorable and cozy, but he’s also extremely eager to get under that blanket and between your legs.

Clearing his throat he walks closer, failing to pretend like he is just aimlessly wandering around. He peeks at you and narrows his eyes when he sees you haven’t even acknowledged his presence.

“Hey baby,” he speaks up, hoping to catch your attention.

“Mm, hi, what’s up?” you ask, but your eyes are still glued to the page in front of you.

“Not much. Just checking in on you.” Squaring his shoulders he takes a deep breath before exhaling dramatically, his palms smoothing over the shirt, especially the word written across his chest.

“I’m good. Did you finish recording?”

Still no peek at him and he is starting to get frustrated.

“Yeah,” he nods and clears his throat again, standing right in front of you at this point, towering over you.

“Good,” you hum.

You’re still ignoring him and now he is determined to have your pretty eyes on him. A series of coughs follows that finally forces you to look up from the book, mostly because you fear that he has a sore throat, judging from the coughs, but when you catch a glimpse of him you see how he’s puffing his chest so you see what shirt he is really wearing.

“Huh,” you smile, putting your book aside. “Are you trying to tell me something?” you ask, a smirk stretching across your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, running his tongue across his lips.

“Do you happen to want to have sex?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Oh! Now that you’re asking, yes. Yes, I absolutely do!”

You can’t hold your laugh back as he basically throws himself at you, his lips already kissing you all over your face as he wedges himself between you and the back of the couch.

“You’re so subtle,” you giggle against his lips, pulling the blanket over the both of you while his hands are already wandering under your shirt.

“That’s my middle name,” he grins. “Harry Subtle Styles.”

“What happened to Edward?”

“Gone. He’s dead,” he chuckles before his lips get busy with yours.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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lorettapetrichor · 5 months

Text

mutual 1: save me doomed yuri. save me

mutual 2: i think id be happier if my boobs were replaced with small and friendly sharks

mutual 3: who wants to get trapped in a narrative with me. it does have to be weird

mutual 4: (13 consecutive reblogs of fanart of a podcast ive never listened to)

mutual 5: hey check out this insane piano composition youll be zonked out of your gourd

mutual 6: (insanely detailed and vibrant art) drew this in the bathtub lol

mutual 7: what if wolverines invented religion. they could make vehicles out of abandoned shopping carts

mutual 8: i love my blorbos what do you mean theyre my ocs. from my brain

mutual 9: theres something so beautiful aboutmaking fun animal noises. BARKBARKBARK AWOOOOO

mutual 10: (screenshots of a straight couple) theyre lesbians to me. theyre doomed yuri. do you see my vision

mutual 11: i love violence. women who love violence hmu.

mutual 12: the ibm system/360 has an almost sexual quality if i'm being honest

mutual 13: (art that could easily be seen displayed in a museum as a work of a fine master) its the yaoi

mutual 14: my idiot cat ate my entire fucking cake??? (# hes ok)

mutual 15: oh hatsune miku we're really in it now

mutual 16: (image of a character who has killed thousands and injured many more) shes like a sopping wet pathetic cat to me

mutual 17: i think i huave autism

mutual 18: (the same cryptic meme reblogged 50 times, interspersing with the rest of the dash)

mutual 19: for vampires drinking blood is like a sluttier version of eating pussy. especially if its gay

mutual 20: (responding to an incredibly vague and mysterious ask with no context) hello mutual x. i know its you

#lore talks

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girlsdressingrooms · 2 months

Text

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024)

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style.

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

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godofdystopia · 7 months

Note

I really like your dark urge posts and especially the ones about orin and I really find fascinating how the sibling are understood almost in the inverse depending on the audience like outside the temple people dislike Orin IMMENSELY because she’s seen as too bloodthirsty and we do see evidence with her killing assistants of Gortash just to talk about how badly she want to gut him and how she doesn’t stray from that conversation and she does believe in Bhaal’s dream of killing everyone, but in the temple about the Bhaalist and pre game Durge she’s condemned heavily for being too artistic and premeditated and valuing quality of a murder over quantity which we see a method to the people she chooses to kill or kidnap to hold hostage or how she needles you with letters at fight versus just fighting or even her dramatic intended original coup against Durge not even making sure they’re dead and frankly from her diary entry calling them mindless and her speech about wanting them to be a mindless puppet it seems like she didn’t want them dead vs to live disgracefully originally and we see how she does use bodies as display even her own mother in there privacy of a room no one is going actively in and out.

Versus Durge is praised by Bhaal, the butler, and everyone in the temple not only for their direct line from Bhaal alone that orin can’t replicate ever even if her line is probably intentionally murky so Sevarok who already tried to throw a coup against Bhaal himself could get as close as possible to making his own kid related to only himself to do what he couldn’t (and sevarok and bhaal both setting Uk the sibling to end up in fight to the death like the fratricide duel practice saverok I believe started? And that sevarok if you confront him after killing Orin will try to kill you to be the chosen and given him having Helena try to be a chosen by killing Orin probably was not only trying to be the murder god again by setting these murders up but also does what he both compliments and insults Orin for by raising quietly through the side and in his case by not even doing the killing himself despite the title he wants). Especially if you break her verbally she accuses Durge of stealing both her and her grandfathers inheritance from Bhaal despite being made by Bhaal given how Helena doesn’t hesitant to try to take her place but makes me wonder what on earth their conversations with like that he didn’t immediately seem like a lair talking around either Helena or Durge or other worshippers.

But I find it so interesting that through the play through and the way durge both boast the quantity of their kills, the wha they’re praised by most bhaalist and insult by orin for it, they’re definitely as much if not more bloodthirsty then orin. Yet outside the temple Durge palms multiple heists that require patience and premeditation and discipline including in the hells and from an arch demon and was respected and feared by people outside the cult for their violence and control. And even taking a tip from Goretash about former bhaalist bones in a museum and taking offense at it being tourist attraction bc Durge does have some idea and defensiveness about the temple as a family and planning both a heist for the bones but also a murder of many as revenge/Justice. And this does concede with Goretash dies of murder as a means of messaging but that relation ship is also so interesting here the gap he sees the two’s behavior as. Especially since their relationship with Goretash that had them apologizing to Bhaal for losing sight of the goal to kill everyone and is condemned by Orin for doing such yet, Goretash not only explicitly says he respect you for your control and discernment he doesn’t think Orín has but canonically massively dislikes mass murder and doesn’t even want to hear what you think about it if you argue with him about Orin after killing her despite you being a bhaalist. Which I definitely think is related to the sides of the two he saw. Which I feel like must have built the resentment more for Orin seeing durge not only get praised for a huge long term plan but sounding more like bane disciple then a bhaalist and she’s the one insulted for things you both associate more with the older sibling.

People do both act differently and are seen different by different people especially groups but I just find it so interesting and I think the game does a good job here showing how roe game durge and orin were neither that different but also why they clashed so badly she’d attempt a coup but also couldn’t carry out the plan durge started and how much other people influenced (especially directly from the butler to sevarok to bhaal) their relationship and antagonism. (Though I also think the difference in perception is related to Durge growing up outside the temple and not meeting the butler until “maturity” versus Orin being born and raised there). Idk I just think it’s very neat and drive the sibling animosity in such an abusive home to an interesting boiling point where you can se how Orín and and pre game Durge saw and understood more of each other then other people who couldn’t understand not being in the family or the temple (especially Goretash saying he’s never been to the temple) but also never really respected or looked in the other in the eye truly.

Sorry for the length, I just find it all really interesting but I really like fratricide in fiction where it’s the aeducan family cycles of brothers killing brothers in dragon age or lion king or hamlet. I think larian did a great job escalating their themes of abuse and familial cycles of violence for the Dark Urge Origin and I would love more of your thoughts on any of it 😅

You, you are my favorite ask this year.

Thank you for giving me the chance to infodump about my Durge Family Mechanics and just how much of a sad and pathetic little meow-meow Orin is if you really think about it.

So Durge was the Golden Child, the Prodigy, the Purest Bhaalspawn that ever was, An Antichrist born from a drop of Bhaal's own gore. Durge never stood a chance, from both the Noble Stalk and Lvl 6 Heal its been shown that Bhaal has had his murderous claws in Durge's mind since the very beginning. No Childhood friends allowed, no other family allowed, nothing outside of Bhaal's Grand Design for global murder allowed.

"Was i sweet once?" In snippets and chances stolen when you could, you were sweet and you tried and tried and tried- But you were the Golden Child, The Purest Bhaalspawn, The Antichrist. You never stood a chance. Any connection was severed when you slept, any escape route was closed by death, any outside connection was forcibly removed. Only Bhaal, only the Dark Urge.

And then we have Orin. Orin: the Zuko to your Azula, the Scar to your Mufasa, the child who always came second. Sarevok may not be working on the same level that Bhaal is but he still never gave her a chance.

Raised by murderers, raised by the cult. She is the child of a child of a Bhaalspawn, and the child of a Bhaalspawn on top of that. Let's not get into that and instead get into how Sarevok, in his own ways, ruined any chance Orin had as well.

Orin may never have had the Dark Urges, she never had Sceleritas whispering in her ear and encouraging her worst aspects, she never had the hooks of Bhaal himself clawed deep in her very mind and soul. And yet because of Sarevok she never stood a chance, she was raised to kill Durge. Raised to kill the person that was raised as her sibling. Raised to hate and despise Durge and desire their downfall all because Sarevok wanted what he was denied in the first games. Where Durge was made to be the perfect Bhaalspawn, Orin was raised to be the perfect Bhaalspawn.

And yet it was never enough.

Orin is despised by the cult for not being enough, not being murderous enough, for killing wrong, for not being as pure as Durge. the people who raised her, who she grew up around, looked down on her as second best and passed her over in favor of Durge. Is it any real wonder that she struck out and tried to murder her sibling? to take what she was raised to crave and desire? To try and claw some semblance of respect from the peoplke who despised her?

And it was never enough.

She wasn't Durge, she wasn't the mastermind, she wasnt enough: Not for the cult, not for the Chosen, not even for Bhaal. she was the second best, the runner up, the perpetual failure who wasnt a pure Bhaalspawn. The chosen hate her for not being Durge, the Cult hate her for not being Durge, Sarevok sees her as a tool and Bhaal sees her as a replacement.

Neither Orin or Durge had a childhood, not really. Durge was a cuckoo forced into an unsuspecting nest, a nest that was coated in blood because of Bhaal. Orin was raised by serial killers and murderers, almost choked by her own mother because of Sarevok. Durge had friends: friends they played with, friends they vivisected alongside Sceleritas. but did Orin? Did Orin have anyone besides subordinates and lackeys? Perhaps she didnt, perhaps young Orin looked at Durge having a family (until it was ruined) and friends (until they were stolen away) and seethed.

Neither Durge nor Orin had anything outside the cult: any connection severed, any lifeline cut. And together they were pti against one another. Durge looking down at the upstart, and Orin looking up at the idol. Hate upon hate, fueled by Bhaal and Sarevok. Fathers who saw them as tools, as weapons, as things instead of people.

They never stood a chance

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #the dark urge #orin the red #bhaal #Bhaalspawn #Bhaalspawn family dynamics are sending me into fits #God i love Dark Urge #God i love Orin #I wish to save them from their horrible family

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thebestofoneshots · 19 days

Text

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials.

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day.

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right?

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends.

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite.

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.”

“Well, does he colour his drawings?”

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.”

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?”

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.”

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.”

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.”

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches.

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available.

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.”

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette.

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?”

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?”

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.”

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled.

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?”

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.”

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile.

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over.

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box.

“Would you like me to call you a cab?”

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited.

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?”

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room.

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak.

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room.

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire.

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney.

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?”

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.”

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.”

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed.

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.”

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles.

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people. Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative.

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed.

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.”

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention.

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–”

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you.

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile.

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.”

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued.

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof.

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on.

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.”

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?”

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.”

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question.

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.”

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.”

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.”

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.”

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way?

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love.

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether?

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.”

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks.

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water.

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime. Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still. Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast. Your bestest friend, James P. PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff. PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius.

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning.

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’.

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites.

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him.

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read.

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all.

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’.

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl.

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again.

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments.

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?”

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been.

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left.

Merry Christmas Star Seeker, Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended! Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours.

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play, Love, The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha.

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny.

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it: “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable.

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh.

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting.

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles, dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open.

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions.

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while.

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?”

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note.

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder. You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts. AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it. Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas! Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend, Prongs.

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant.

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first.

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself. Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong.

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean. As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter. You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want. All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift. Love, Sirius

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered.

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel.

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French:

À l'étoile la plus brillante. Amour,

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you.

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that.

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting.

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift.

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter.

Hey there, Little Witch, Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that. I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he? Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own. Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes. There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too. Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it. Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true. Love, Moony. PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made.

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve.

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to.

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents.

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case.

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck.

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room.

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room.

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings.

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked.

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle.

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party.

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.”

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

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ladamedusoif · 9 months

Text

My Kiss, Only For You

The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader - One Shot

Pairing: The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); theft (I mean, obviously); smut; did I mention theft; strong language

Summary: You've noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on a favourite exhibit.

Notes: I keep on getting sent to horny jail by @lunapascal and @julesonrecord. (P would be very disappointed in you two insisting on incarcerating me all the time.)

This time, for reasons I'm still not entirely sure about, I was sentenced to 'double jail' and have two punishment pieces to write to get myself free. This first one, chosen by @julesonrecord, involves The Thief (from the wine ads) and the prompt "stealing a kiss".

Please enjoy my first foray into writing smut about a (very sexy) man from an ad campaign.

I wrote this at like, 1am and am still worried there are sections I thought I wrote but that were actually happening in a dream. Bear that in mind as you read.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“And we finish with the jewel - if you’ll permit me a little pun - of the collection, the remarkable Katarzyna’s Kiss ruby.”

The afternoon’s tour group is mostly teenagers on a school trip, and they couldn’t be less interested in the bright red gemstone illuminated in the case behind you if they tried. One of them lazily lifts their phone to snap a photo, apparently of the display. It’s only when you see them pouting for a selfie that you realise they’ve had a BeReal notification.

You keep going with the standard tour script, putting your heart into it as always. You notice a familiar face at the back of the group, listening attentively: a handsome, dark-eyed man you guess must be in his mid to late forties, who is a regular attendee of your tours in the museum. He seems to be particularly interested in the gemstones and jewellery collections, always turning up for those tours with a notebook and a random, specialist text on the subject.

“The story behind this gemstone and its unusual name is that a seventeenth-century Polish princess supposedly fell in love with the apprentice to the court jeweller. Now, as you can imagine, in those days an apprentice jeweller would never be considered an appropriate match for a princess, and their love was doomed from the start.”

The handsome man smiles at you, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You offer a little smile in return, noticing how the museum lighting catches the attractive patches of grey in his sparse beard.

“The poor young apprentice had never kissed his princess, and not because he didn’t want to - they were afraid they would be caught in the carefully-monitored world of the court.” Your expression turns sad as you move to the next part.

“One day, the young jeweller heard that his beloved was to be married - the next day, in fact. He was distraught. But when the princess woke on her wedding day, equally heartbroken, she found this ruby - so the story goes - in a gorgeous, handmade silver box, engraved with the words ‘My kiss, only for you’”.

One of the teenagers at the front yawns dramatically, setting the others off into fits of giggles. You sigh. “And that brings our tour to an end, I guess. Gift shop that way, toilets over there, if you want to find out more about the collections you can purchase a guidebook…”

Your voice trails as the group rapidly disperses. Only your handsome regular is left. You hadn’t noticed before how nicely dressed he is - not showy, not in the least, but his clothes have that unmistakable air of quality and expense. Today he’s wearing a dark green, beautifully cut casual jacket with a Nehru collar, combined with dark jeans and a pristine white grandfather shirt.

“Thank you for a wonderful tour, as usual.” His voice is warm and low, a pleasing sound in the near-empty gallery.

“Thank you,” you return the compliment. “You’re one of our regulars, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. You notice he’s holding a small green notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other. “I must admit, though, that I prefer to go on your tours. You are a natural - truly, a joy to listen to. So knowledgeable!” He turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you’ll forgive me for being forward, even lovelier to look at than Katarzyna’s Kiss.”

You raise your eyebrows. The closest thing to flirting you’d experienced in your time as a guide was when elderly men would corner you near the military history displays and wax lyrical at you about nineteenth-century battleships.

The man has moved closer, now, to you and to the display case. He appraises the ruby at close range. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about this beautiful thing - I’m fascinated by the story.” He turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses. “Would dinner tonight be a good time to talk about this kiss?”

To your surprise, he’d booked a table at the fanciest restaurant in the city. Dinner had been a delight, swapping stories of rare jewels and favourite galleries and museums around the world.

He had changed since this afternoon, and arrived dressed in an exquisite green and black check suit with a black shirt and tie. He was attractive, there was no way around it - but you preferred to keep your guard up a little longer.

You were about to order a cab when you realised you didn’t have your phone.

“Shit. I must have left it in the office.”

“It’s not too far away, is it?” He is the picture of concern. “I’ll gladly accompany you back to the museum.”

So he does, offering you his arm at one point like a man in an old movie. You huff a laugh at the gesture until you realise he’s serious.

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his arm out, offered to you, and smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. “Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet, ma chérie.”

Maybe it’s the sneaking into the museum after hours, with its connotations of illicit shenanigans, maybe it’s the whiskey you had after dinner, or maybe it’s just the way his suit sits so perfectly over his broad frame, as if it’s begging to be touched and clung to.

Whatever it is, you’ve barely entered your small office when you’re pushing him against the wall and kissing him like your life depends on it. He groans into your mouth and it goes straight to your pussy.

He guides you back onto the desk and sits you on the edge, lowering you down carefully as he stands above you. He trails a long, thick finger across the neckline of your dress, slipping his fingertip under the fabric to trace the outline of your breasts.

You whine in pleasure and frustration as he kisses your body.

“Tell me more about Katarzyna’s Kiss, beautiful. Do you believe the story?”

He keeps kissing as you talk, through the fabric of your dress down to your thighs, where he hitches up the skirt and encourages you to open your legs a little wider. You moan as you feel his fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs.

“I want to kiss you, mi amor, but I will only do so if you say the word.”

You nod frantically, all thoughts of the bright red ruby forgotten.

He brings his torso down to meet yours, placing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. You hear the zipper of his pants come down and you know that he has taken his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches past the top of your head, stretching his hand out along the desk and resting his fingers on the marass of papers and, you judge by the clicks going on behind you, your computer keyboard.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Your voice is heavy, confused. He’s kept one hand behind you, still resting on the keyboard, as he intersperses caressing and kissing your breasts with giving his cock a quick stroke.

“I am, chérie, be patient. The kiss I plan to steal now is more valuable than any ruby - tastes better, too.”

He drops to his knees and pulls your legs apart, dragging your panties down over your soft thighs and knees. He begins by literally kissing your cunt, placing soft, delicate kisses to the wet folds before his broad tongue strokes its way from your opening all the way to your clit. It elicits a muffled scream from you.

“You can’t be there already, beautiful thing.” You aren’t, but the way he’s ‘kissing’ your pussy, then driving his fingers inside you, is getting you very close.

When he begins to suck your clit you feel the pressure building, and soon your slick is coating his perfect nose, his mouth, his face - and his beard. It glistens in the soft light of your desk lamp.

“Fuck me,” you murmur quietly.

“Not tonight, dear one,” he says as he returns to standing, zipping back up his pants. “Stay put, I’ll get something to clean you up. Where are the bathrooms?”

You point him towards them, unable to stand up just yet. He’s made you feel completely boneless, fucked out with just his mouth and fingers on your own desk. It had been a while since anyone made you come at all, let alone like that.

You realise you don’t even know his name.

And soon, you realise he’s been gone a rather long time.

The museum’s back corridors are unsettling at night. You wander up and down, calling quietly into the darkness to see if you can find him.

The wail of the siren is deafening as you race back to your office, frantically trying to log back in to check where the alarm has been triggered. You try to contact the night security team, but there’s no response. The screen eventually lights up and you see it: the Kiss ruby. That’s what they’re after.

Security arrives in the exhibition gallery a few minutes after you, leaving it to you to reveal the carefully opened case and the empty plastic clasp that once held the ruby on display.

Where was he? Did he get stuck in part of the building and panic when the alarm went off?

You reach into your pocket to find your phone before you remember you don’t even have his number.

You find a crisp, folded piece of paper in your dress pocket. It had definitely not been there earlier.

You sneak off behind another display to open the note, before police arrived to question you. The handwriting is fanciful, rendered in pen and ink:

I have helped myself to Katarzyna’s, I’m afraid, but remember that the kiss I gave you tonight - my kiss - is only for you.

Adieu, chérie!

Your Gentleman Thief

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the thief smut #the thief #the thief fanfic #the thief fanfiction #the thief x f!reader #the thief x you #the thief x reader #my kiss only for you fic

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archaeologysucks · 7 months

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Mom: "Looks like you might be needed at the Smithsonian soon. Your cataloguing skills!" Mom: "This is the plan when things change for the better in the near future, and people will be given direct access to things available now to only the elites. Well, I can dream."

This is the kind of thing my mother sends me. I will tell y'all what I told her.

The Smithsonian's (and other museums') collections are not "hidden". All museums store artifacts that are surplus to current needs/space, or are not "museum quality". These collections may be accessed for study, but are not displayed, because the vast majority of visitors are not interested in boxes and boxes of broken pottery and rusty nails, etc.

The Smithsonian (and other museums) is working on digitizing its collections to make them more accessible to the public. This takes time and costs money. Money that often comes from taxpayer funding. So every time taxpayers/representatives vote to cut funding to the arts/sciences/education, there is less money available for projects like this.

No, there have never been any Egyptian artifacts found in the Grand Canyon.

tl/dr: The Right: *cuts funding for the arts/sciences/education* The Right: Museums are HIDING SECRET KNOWLEDGE from you!

#conspiratorial nonsense #u.s. politics #archaeology #the smithsonian #museums

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yunjinsstar · 9 months

Text

weak, only for you. | tim drake x reader

Tim Drake's philosophy is that sleep is for the weak. This is not a good enough reason for you to let him go without sleep. (Alternatively, a fic where Tim Drake is coaxed back to bed because we all need sleep, no matter how necessary it is to stay awake.)

pairing/characters: tim drake/reader genre: fluff tags/warnings: soulmates, sleep deprivation word count: 1.6k crossposted on ao3

You turned onto your side as you tried to get some shut-eye. Usually, you could get your eight hours of sleep but it felt odd sleeping without the extra weight of your partner, Tim. You understood his job didn't really allow for a lot of rest but he wasn't a robot, he was a human being. He had limits.

Tim hadn't slept for a couple nights now. The boys were hot on the trail of a new crime boss that recently moved his trade to Gotham from Star City. Green Arrow had been of much help but the home of Batman needed its' own vigilantes on the case.

While you appreciated the work Tim did as Red Robin for the city, especially in times like this, it made it especially harder to let him do his thing. You didn't sleep well at night knowing your partner and soulmate was sleep-deprived.

Time had run out for your patience.

You grumbled as you peeled your woollen blanket off your body. You did not appreciate having to sacrifice your warmth just to get Tim into bed. Gotham City was not a warm place at night, in both the literal and figurative sense.

Tim's insomniac-like habits were worse beforehand when he would stay at the Batcave. According to Bruce, Tim's 'bed' consisted of a thin blanket and a pillow off of the living room couch. Mind you, he didn't even use it to sleep, he used it for a quick power nap.

You eventually convinced to build his own Bat-computer at your shared apartment. He folded after you told him *exactly* how lonely you felt when he was away. With great reluctance, he left the Wayne manor that night and slept for a good five hours.

As soon as he woke, he started getting supplies to build a mini Bat-computer fit for the apartment. When you walked out to the kitchen for breakfast, you were met with a note on the bench: "Hi love, I've just gone to the tech store. I made eggs and bacon for you. I promise I won't be long. I love you :)"

Tim spent the entire day building the computer. He downgraded to only three monitors but the PC itself was still the same quality as Bruce's. He even improved on it, adding extra features.

Your genius finished his project on the same day, proud of his achievement. You kissed him softly as a congratulations and a thank you. He was grateful you made him come back home.

Now, the only hassle was having to travel outside, rather than across town. Wrapped in a cardigan you picked up from the bedroom floor, you watched your soulmate type away at the keyboard.

The monitors displayed maps tracking all criminal activity in real-time, personal information on the crime boss, and details of his criminal record. Unsurprisingly, the desk was littered with empty coffee cups, of which you could count eight.

If Tim noticed you, he hadn't shown it by now. You padded over to him, a quiet yawn escaping your lips. Approaching him, you stood behind him as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. You trailed your hand down his arm to his forehand, where the red mark stained his pale skin.

His body shivered as you brushed your fingers over the mark before settling your hand on his.

•

You stared up at the Egyptian coffin. According to the Gotham City Museum, the sarcophagus you were looking at was extracted from the tomb of Hatshepsut, a famous female pharaoh who began her reign around 1473 BC. She was titled "The Queen Who Would Be King."

As you admired the detailing, you felt another body sidle up next to you. You weren't sure whether to break your stare to assess the person beside you or just continue looking. You opted for the latter.

The two of you stood there in silence until you saw him enter your vision to read the plaque in front of the glass display. This time, you got a good look at him. He didn't look too old, probably in his mid-20s.

He was wearing a collared shirt under a Gotham University hoodie. The sweatpants he wore bore the Gotham University logo as well. You wondered why you'd never seen him around the campus before.

Deciding to entertain the unknown, you stepped up to the plaque, reading it alongside him. Granted, you'd already read it but he didn't need to know that.

His slender hand drifted over the words. It had some scars and discolouration. You desperately wanted to know the secrets behind them but curiosity killed the cat.

"Did you know that Egyptians thought the most significant part of your life was death?" he spoke without warning. You looked up at him, bewildered by not only the fact but by the tone of his voice.

It was rich and full, but had a tinge of aching behind it. It felt like he was hiding something but you couldn't tell exactly what.

"No, I didn't. Why, do you agree?" you asked tentatively. For all you know, he could be a creep. It was never good to easily trust anyone you met in Gotham.

"Not at all. There's so much merit that comes from living," he said softly. It was at this moment his piercing sky blue eyes met yours. His face looked familiar but you couldn't place it.

"Some of us aren't living, though," you tore your eyes away from his, "we're just surviving."

"A pity," he agreed, his hand still resting on the steel plaque. You looked over to him once more to see his head hung low. He was a tainted soul in the city of the living dead.

You couldn't explain why you did so, but your hand reached out from your side to rest gently on his. So much for not easily trusting people.

"Maybe one day, peace will find us," you pondered. You only hoped his eyes would find yours.

They did, as his head rose.

"I only hope so," he added.

When he finished his sentence, your hand started to tingle. His was too, as his eyes widened at the sensation. Suddenly, a bright burst of light shone through the museum. You lifted your hand from his and turned it over to see your whole right palm covered in red.

His hand remained on the plaque as he took in the red hand mark branding his left forehand. Your mouth parted slightly as you gazed up at him. He mirrored your shocked expression.

"You're..." he trailed off.

"I can't believe this. We're soulmates?" you asked to no one in particular. You touched your left palm gently and shivered at the feeling, the area still sensitive.

The mystery man beside you finally turned to face you completely and it was then you realised who he was. Tim Drake, successor of Bruce Wayne as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, the corporate group that owns the entire city, was your soulmate.

He attended Gotham U but according to one of your friends who was doing the same degree as him, he never really showed up to class. That made sense, but you couldn't imagine doing university and running a corporation.

"I'm Tim Drake," he stuck his right hand out. You took it in yours as you introduced yourself to him as well.

"I would've never guessed my soulmate was going to be a rich business CEO," you mused. He laughed and dear God, it was heavenly to listen to.

"I would've never guessed my soulmate was going to be the most insightful and beautiful woman I've ever met," he said. Your cheeks flushed at his kind words.

"Oh, I'm not anything like that. Once you get to know me, you'll find I'm just as ordinary as anyone else in Gotham," you denied. He clasped your fingertips and brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to your forehand.

"In Gotham City, no one's ordinary."

•

"What are you doing up, my love?" Tim mumbled, shifting your hands so his now laid atop of yours. He rubbed his thumb across your knuckles.

"Trying to get you to sleep with me," you responded, fatigue evident in your voice. You were heavily relying on the chair Tim was sitting on to hold yourself up.

"This case is important," he tried to reason.

"Your sleep is important too. When was the last time you got more than four hours of sleep, Tim?" you asked him, knowing the answer full well. He gulped as he let the silence act as his response.

"Exactly. Please, come to bed," you pleaded with him. He sighed, contemplating his decision.

"I love you, sweetheart but we're so close. I need to make sure I'm awake for when there's new activity," he told you. Now, you were getting frustrated.

"Timothy Drake," he immediately made eye contact with you as you took your hand away from his, "I'm not asking you to sleep for me. It's for you. I don't like seeing you barely alive and drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee."

His eyes softened as he saw how irritated you'd gotten.

"So, would it be that bad if you just got some good sleep?" you asked, tired of having to do this all the time.

"I guess not," he replied. You backed away as he pushed away from the desk and stood up. He took your hand in his as he tucked in the chair and walked to the bedroom with you.

The two of you tucked yourselves in and you faced in to each other. Your left hand laid on the pillow, the red soulmark faint in the glow of the Gotham moonlight.

His fingers traced over your palm lines ever so gently. The touch was soothing. He softly smiled at you and you returned the smile.

"Thank you. I just get so caught up in it, I forget," he whispered.

"You're in luck, because I'm always going to be around to remind you."

#dc universe #tim drake #tim drake x reader #useryjstar

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brunchable · 1 year

Text

Thurber's Model — PT. 1 || William Thurber × F!Reader

Word Count: 8.2K

Genre: Romance, Secrecy, Sneaking Around, Off-Limits Reader, Overwhelming Attraction

Warning: Explicit. 18+ Only. unprotected p+v sex, accidental creampie, losing innocence.

Parings: William Thurber x F!Reader

Summary: William runs off to find some solitude to relieve some of the pressured of becoming the winner of this year's student art prize. In his search for the perfect place, he finds you along the way, reading your favorite play by Shakespeare.

A/N: This is for the precious @classicrebound and for our thirsty asses ♡

“Mama says you won the award for the second time this year.” He looked down at the woman on his arm. The new expression on her face was calculating. Bloody hell.

“Who was your inspiration?” she repeated more firmly this time.

“My passion is the one thing that keeps me going,” he said carefully, not caring one bit for the new gleam of interest in her eyes. He didn’t expect many people to attend the museum, compared to last year’s celebration. This one was more grand, possibly because the exhibits are displayed under Dr. Reid’s museum of Arts.

“Hmmm.” She looked over his clothes as if she were taking inventory.

He wore the latest fashion. He didn’t buy clothes often, but when he did, he went for quality. She seemed happy with what she saw if the little nod of approval was any indication.

He desperately wanted to change the subject before she inquired about his other holdings. “So, what play did you attend?”

Her face twisted up in disgust. “It was one of Shakespeare’s I’m afraid. I find them all a dreadful bore, but this one was most appalling. Mother insisted that we leave at intermission and I wholeheartedly agreed.”

He stopped short. He rather enjoyed the Bard’s plays. He couldn’t think of anything in Shakespeare’s plays that would be appalling. His works are literal works of art, “What was wrong with the play?”

“A woman was dressed in men’s clothing! It was obscene!”

“Was the woman pretending to be her brother?” William asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! It was dreadful.”

“Was the play ‘As you like it’?”

“Yes.” It was one of his favourite plays. That answered that.

“Rebecca, allow me to return you at once to your mother. I find that I need some fresh air.” Her grip on his arm suddenly tightened.

“Fresh air sounds lovely.” She licked her lips, invitingly. Christ almighty, the girl wanted to trap him. William practically dragged her back to her mother and without another word he made his way outside.

He stayed away from the garden and woodland. Those spots were reserved for couples who dared to have an affair in the freezing weather. Just a hundred yards from the main building was the orangery, which was bathed in the warm light of multiple lanterns. On a night like this, it was the ideal place to spend some time away from everything. He seriously doubted any attractive woman would go out in this weather for a tryst. The orangery was the safest place for him, and the fires that were kept going to keep the orange trees from withering would make the interior delightfully toasty.

With the cold wind blowing in his face, he rushed the final twenty yards to the safety of the orangery, where he almost sighed with relief. With the fire crackling and oranges ripening in the background, he felt he could easily pass the next four hours here. Upon taking a closer look at the orange trees, he sighed in dismay at the realisation that this orangery had been erected relatively recently. The orange trees weren't very big, and their fruit was still unripe.

It was unfortunate that he hadn't brought anything to do while waiting, like a book or snacks. Not even an hour after eating, he was starving. It was nothing new. His hunger never subsided. Despite the fact that no one in his family ever completely understood it, at least they'd stopped making fun of him for it long ago. Nothing about spending four hours in the orangery with nothing to do or eat sounded enjoyable to him, but then, neither did going to an awards night, hearing the same compliments over and over again.

A number of oil lamps gave him sufficient light to see by. Because of the overwhelming brightness, couples often avoided coming here. There was no place for them to take cover if they were discovered. A soft noise caught his attention. He cautiously made his way through a grove of orange trees, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what lay beyond. A woman with gorgeous brown hair that sparkled like the finest silk in the lantern light sat on a cushioned bench, reading a tiny book and laughing gently to herself.

Your laughter was like a balm to his soul, instantly relieving his anxieties even as his heart skipped a beat. As you flipped the page of your book, he didn't see that he'd inched closer to her until you let out a tiny sigh. He had no business intruding. This woman obviously came here to be alone. At last, he backed away from the situation reluctantly. He was so anxious to get out of there without being seen that he accidentally knocked over a bucket, which shattered the tranquillity of the orangery.

“Who’s there?” you demanded as you placed your book down on the bench beside you and stood.

William felt his stomach turn and his breath caught in his throat at the first real view of your face. You were excruciatingly beautiful with brown eyes. You were, without a doubt, the most stunning lady he'd ever seen, and he desperately desired you. He gave his head a slight shake. He didn’t even know this woman. What in the hell was wrong with him?

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I can see you, so you might as well come out,” You said, placing your small book on the cushion beside you.

A tall, dark-eyed man with a dashing smile walked forwards, and you studied him with interest. His short, black hair was fashioned in a different way than other men, but it suited him. Just like you, he had a nice tan. Your mother always seemed to find something to moan about, and your skin tone was one of them, but you were too busy enjoying the great outdoors to mind. You wanted the sun's warmth so badly that you ignored the fact that it was changing your skin tone.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave,” he said in a deep voice that you found soothing as he bowed slightly before taking a step back to do just that.

“No, please. Do not feel forced to leave. If you just wanted some peace and quiet, I couldn't be so callous as to send you back out into the cold. This orangery, I think, is big enough for the two of us to retreat to in peace,” you said with a smile, hating the idea of turning anyone out into the cold and forcing him to return back to an exhibit that you hadn’t been able to escape fast enough.

“How do you know that I was searching for solitude? Perhaps I was meeting a lover?” he said, regretting it before the last word left his lips.

What the hell was wrong with me? She would probably slap me or faint dead away at my lack of propriety. I truly was an idiot. William thought to himself.

You laughed instead, you actually laughed. It was gentle, mesmerising, and real. Compared to the phoney, tittering laughter of ladies like Rebecca, this was a breath of fresh air. Women like her made up their entire identities so that they would be accepted by the tonne and have a chance at finding a spouse who, like most men, wanted nothing more than a warm body to deliver an heir and didn't want the hassle of a woman with a brain.

“What’s so amusing, Miss? Are you implying that I wouldn't be able to persuade a woman to have a tryst with me?” he drawled, wondering if you knew just how charming your laugh was.

A sigh escaped your lips as you stopped laughing, but at least your smile remained. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sure a man as handsome as you would have no difficulties finding a woman to share your time.”

William was unable to suppress the idiotic grin that twisted up his lips. Naturally, he'd heard the word "handsome" thrown around to describe him before, but for reasons he couldn't explain, he took great pride in your use of it to describe him. “Then what brought you to the conclusion that I was looking for privacy?”

You shrugged as you sat back down, leaning to the side so that you could focus your attention on him. “Well, there’s the fact that this particular orangery is far beyond the appropriate distance from the Museum. No man is going to come out here with a woman unless he’s looking to be trapped.” He couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Another factor is the climate. The weather is rather chilly. It's likely that a lady would gripe about having to walk that far to reach the orangery. It's also possible that she'd flat-out reject the idea because she's aware it's too chilly to go outdoors and that she'd be spotted if she tried to recover her shawl.”

Once again William nodded in agreement.

“Then of course there is the obvious.”

“Which is?” he asked, moving closer.

“A gentleman would not meet a woman here. He would escort her here so she wouldn't have time to reconsider or accept an offer from another man. Also, it would take too much time away from the party for both participants. There would be the time spent waiting for the other person to come, the time spent in the meeting itself, and the time spent afterwards by whoever stayed behind so that it didn't look like the two of you had left together."

He couldn’t help grinning. The woman wasn't just beautiful; she was intelligent, too. He cast his eyes around the expansive space as an idea formed in his mind. “Hmm, you’ve given this some thought. Are you perhaps meeting someone here? Or did he already leave?” he asked, making sure to add a teasing note to his tone.

Your smile weakened a bit as you shook your head. “No, there have never been any meetings for me and there probably never will be,” you admitted with a small shrug and a wistful tone that he almost missed.

“Why not?”

“I don’t plan on marrying,” you explained with a small smile.

“Why don’t you wish to marry?” he asked, forcing himself to sound casual. He wasn’t offering. Oh, hell no. It was unlikely he would ever get married unless he really needed an heir to carry on the family name. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with someone who was constantly in his way and needed him to make her happy.

You looked thoughtful for a moment before you spoke. “I don’t want to be any man’s property."

“I thought that’s why these things,” he gestured back towards the party, “were thrown so that young women could find themselves a husband. So, they could select an appropriate husband, someone to take care of them.”

You shrugged indifferently. “Yes, I dare say that many of the women are here for that reason and would find me utterly foolish, because I don’t wish to find a husband at one of these events.”

“Then why did you come?” He took another step closer.

“Probably for the same reason that you did.”

“Which is?” he prompted. He didn’t want you to stop talking for fear that one of them would have to leave. He wanted to make this last, but more importantly, he wanted to see your smile and hear your laugh one more time before he had to do the right thing and walk away.

“Well,” you looked thoughtful, “in your case I would assume that either your mother or your father persuaded you to attend and critique this exhibition. If I had to guess, I would say that your mother was the one that expected your attendance.”

“Oh?”

You nodded firmly. “Your mother, definitely your mother. If it was your father you would have simply made an appearance, danced with a few women to make him think that you were looking for a wife and be done with it.”

He agreed. “If it was my mother? What reason would I have to attend then?”

“Most mothers wish for their sons to marry for a simple reason, grandchildren. You came here even though you clearly don’t want to be here. You came to make your mother happy, because she requested your attendance and you obviously care a great deal for your mother. Instead of simply leaving, you searched for a place to hide.”

He arched an eyebrow at that. “Or it could be that I came here because I'm the one getting critiqued and can't leave until I hear every single opinion people have to say.” he drawled.

Your eyes slowly moved down his body in an assessing manner, but not in the same way that Rebecca had looked him over. Your gaze didn’t annoy him. Your gaze made him stand straighter as every muscle in his body flexed under your scrutiny, making him feel like an idiot even as he wondered if you liked what you saw.

“You’re obviously a man with means. You could have hired a hack and left. There’s always the card room for escape or you could have simply left with a friend.”

“Or walked,” he added.

You smiled. “I much prefer walks myself. Yes, you could have walked provided that your home was close enough.”

“Two miles.”

“That’s not too far away.”

“No, it’s not.” He rather enjoyed walks. He found himself taking walks every evening. Every night, he went for a walk. He discovered that he still loved strolling even in the bustling city of London when he visited. The obnoxious aromas and bustling crowds of the city did not seem to deter him.

He eyed you carefully. You had a delicate honey tone to your skin. You did not appear too slim or too fit. Your breasts were good size, not too big, but perfect for his hands, and from what he recalled from when you stood, your hips were generous. He was willing to bet your legs were well defined, probably from hours of walking.

“So, you’re here because your parents want you to marry,” he surmised from what little he knew about you and what he knew about women of your station in general.

You gave him a dreamy smile that made his chest tighten. “When I was a little girl I wanted nothing more than to have a season. It all seemed so magical, balls, dancing, and being courted by handsome men,” you added the last with a teasing tone. He grinned.

“Sounds like every girl’s dream to find Prince Charming. What happened to change that dream?” he asked, coming closer. He was now standing only a few feet away from you. His original thought that you were beautiful shattered. You were nothing less than a goddess.

You sighed heavily. “Nicholas.”

He felt a tug of unease. Was it jealousy?

“So, you’re in love with this Nicholas?” Please God, no. You laughed.

“No. He’s my brother-in-law. My sister married for love. She didn’t care about a title or money. He made her happy, still does. They are the happiest couple that I know and their boys are extraordinary.”

“And you want that for yourself,” he surmised.

“It will most likely never happen for me,” you said with a careless shrug that tore at his heart and left him wondering why he cared so much.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You certainly weren't going to reveal your privileged background to a complete stranger. It could be dangerous if he turned out to be after your money. He only needs to raise the alert for you to be compromised and obliged to take his hand. You couldn't make it through life in a loveless marriage.

“So, if you wish to marry for love, why don’t you enjoy evenings like this more?”

You waved your hand lazily in the air. “This? This is all orchestrated. People come here looking for the right connection, the right amount of money, and the best gossip. No one comes here looking for love. I knew before I came out that I would never find love at a party. It would just happen…..somehow, somewhere.”

He took another step forward. “But you came anyway.”

You looked wistful. “Until the day I marry, I belong to my father and then to my husband. I am considered nothing more than property. If I wish to have certain rights or benefits I must make the man in my life happy first. Then if he is generous I might be allowed to follow my own pursuits.”

Of course that would all change with your inheritance. Without a word, he moved to sit next to you on the padded bench. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Sounds unfair, but I don’t understand what type of pursuits a woman could have that a man would not allow. Surely your father would encourage you to embroider, watercolour, and play the piano.”

“I’m afraid that you would find me quite unusual then.”

“Try me.” He tilted his head to the side to watch you as you blew out a deep breath.

“If I don’t smile, look pretty, attend the right function, accept the attention of the right gentlemen, my father will rule my life with an iron fist. Embroidery is not a hobby of mine. It seems like a better use of my sewing skills to make something warm for people rather than something just for looks, thus I prefer to make quilts. And yet, despite being forbidden to, I find pleasure in the kitchen. Society dictates that no woman should ever enjoy that. We’re meant to like ordering other people to do that for us.” you said with a conspiratorial smile that he found utterly adorable.

“But not you,” he murmured, smiling. “I bet you make delicious biscuits,” he teased.

You grinned devilishly. “My brother-in-law and nephews swear by them.”

He took another look at your slender figure. “You don’t look like someone that enjoys cooking.”

You rolled your eyes in a rather fetching manner. “I like to cook, not to eat.”

“My apologies.” He couldn’t stop smiling near you. William was sure that he looked foolish, but at the moment he truly didn’t care.

“So, tell me what other scandalous pursuits do you enjoy? Smuggling? Piracy?” he teased.

You laughed. “No, I’m not quite that shameful. I enjoy reading, attending the theatre, taking walks, gardening, shooting, and swimming."

His eyes widened in surprise at that.

“I enjoy things that my father believes are best suited for men,” you explained with an impish smile.

“I see.” He nodded, surprised by your list of pursuits. For most women, the idea of another woman enjoying such things would be completely revolting. In all honesty, he knew that most men would feel the same way. It had always baffled him because all of those things were worthwhile.

“I’m sure that you do,” you mumbled. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. My father would be furious if he found out that I told you. Not that it matters anymore I suppose.”

“Why doesn’t it matter anymore?” he asked in a soft tone.

“It just doesn't," you said with a shrug.

He was willing to leave it alone for the moment, but he desperately needed you to continue talking. “Have you enjoyed being out in society?”

You nodded. “I’ve enjoyed spending more time with my siblings. It’s been nice being seen as a friend and not just a little sister. They mean the world to me. I’ve enjoyed the theatre, some of the dinners, and even being courted.” you could have sworn he frowned, but it was gone before you could be sure. “All the men that have courted me have turned into dear friends.”

“But you still don’t like being out in society,” he hedged.

You turned your head and met his gaze. Your faces were less than a foot apart. William fought the urge to lower his gaze to your lips.

“Do you?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t like the deceptions. I hate gossip. I don’t like being pursued for my position or money. I hate having women trying to trap me into marriage. I despise the game that I’m expected to play. I don’t want a simpering woman to bow to my every whim. It’s ridiculous.”

You nodded in agreement as you looked away. “Yes, it is.”

After a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence he spoke. “May I ask why you’re here playing along if you don’t want to marry?”

When you looked back at him his eyes dropped to your lips, your full, deliciously pink lips. He raised his gaze back quickly before he did something that he would regret.

“A bargain, I suppose,” you said simply.

“A bargain? Are they trying to force you into marriage? Is your family in need of money?” Another thought occurred to him, one that made his stomach twist in dread. “You weren’t caught…er…”

Please don’t let her be carrying another man’s child.

You lightly swatted his shoulder and laughed. “No! Goodness no. The men my parents are pushing my way are tiresome men like Johann Smithfield.”

William nearly choked on air.

Your smile disappeared, instantly replaced with a worried frown. “Oh no, he’s a friend of yours and I’ve just insulted him,” you said, sounding truly upset.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Smithfield, a friend? No! The man shows off every minute of the day. I couldn’t imagine a fate worse than spending an hour in that man’s company.”

“Thanks. Your words have been really comforting,” you said dryly, earning another chuckle from him. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt so relaxed in another person’s company. He normally kept his guard up, refusing to allow anyone to get the better of him.

You sighed heavily. “I’m afraid my parents aren’t happy with my state of life. I’m twenty-three and while they feel that I should be married by now, I don’t. I’ve turned down every suitor who’s asked for my hand. They’re afraid they’ll end up with another spinster on their hands.” They also didn’t want your inheritance left in your control, but there was no need to tell him that.

“How many men have asked for you?” he asked. He knew that it wasn’t proper to ask, but he somehow knew that you wouldn’t mind. You didn’t seem the type. You seemed honest and forthright. It was a welcome change.

Your face scrunched up delightfully. “Fifty-five.”

“Fifty-five men have asked for your hand and you’re only twenty-three? Good lord!”

You shrugged indifferently. “I’m easy to get along with.”

He liked that. He appreciated that you didn't mention your stunning good looks or the possibility of a dowry (even though he knew that at least some of the suitors were interested in either). You would be a highly sought after prize if you had a substantial dowry to go along with your stunning good looks.

“I believe it.”

Your hand found his. You gave it a small squeeze before releasing it. “I’m sorry. You came out here looking for some solitude.” you flicked your hand casually in the air. “I’ll leave you.” you reached down at your other side and picked up a small book with a well-worn leather cover.

“What are you reading?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing, he didn't want you to leave. It hadn’t escaped his notice that you’d brought a book to an event “You sneak off a lot, don’t you?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid that I do have a tendency of making myself scarce.”

He noticed the invite card on your wrist. It was full, which didn't surprise him.

“And the book?”

You held it up and shrugged. “It’s one of my favourite plays. It helps me relax. I had a feeling that I would need it tonight by the way that my mother was behaving.”

He couldn’t quite make out the words from the worn cover. “Which play?”

Your whole face lit up. You obviously took great joy from your book. “'As You Like It’ by Shakespeare. It’s my absolute favourite,” you said dreamily.

William groaned. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You didn’t have a chance to respond before his lips were touching yours. You were taken aback by the tender touch as he gently caressed your lips with his own, which prevented you from forming any words. Your hands went straight to his chest without any conscious thought. You were prepared to shove him away so that you could leave before someone found you and then were forced into a marriage that you didn’t want when something occurred to you.

What if this was your one and only opportunity to find out what it was like to be with a man, especially one who you really desired? You didn't want to go through life full of things you wished you'd done differently. You didn't want to look back on your life and wonder what you'd be missing out on if you hadn't tied the knot since you knew that's what your future held. You made the decision right at that moment that if you were destined to spend the rest of your life as a bachelorette, then you were going to savour this moment with...whatever his name was and give in to the overpowering attraction that you felt for him. After a moment, you allowed yourself to relax and to enjoy his kisses and the sensations that were teasing and tormenting your body as you lost yourself to his touch.

He brushed his lips over yours once, twice and once again. Your mouth was soft and sweet, but it wasn’t enough. He ran the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip. You gasped in surprise, opening your mouth ever so slightly, but it was enough for him. He tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss.

You didn’t know what to think when his lips moved against yours except that somehow for some reason it felt right, perfect. His kisses weren’t frantic or sloppy. They were sweet. When he teasingly slid his tongue inside your mouth you were too stunned at first to react to the invasion. Then slowly you began to melt in his arms. Your hands slid up his chest, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath his coat until they found his shoulders.

He groaned as he pulled you against him, enjoying himself until his damn conscience nagged at him. As wonderful as it felt to kiss you, he knew by the unpracticed strokes of your tongue and lips that you were innocent. He pulled back and looked into your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t end this. This had to be your choice, because he sure as hell wasn’t about to stop this if he had a choice in the matter.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You watched each other, panting slightly as you waited for the other to put a halt to this insanity. Slowly, he moved in, giving you a chance to stop this even as he prayed that you wouldn't. When his mouth touched yours again it was anything but timid. This kiss was hot, wild, and possessive. Words were beyond them. William pulled you closer until your breasts were pressed more firmly against his chest.

You ran your fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft feel of it. He moved his mouth away from yours, nibbling on your ear and neck. He slipped his fingers beneath the top of your gown and slowly pulled down the material, taking your shift down as well until your breasts were bare to him.

Still neither spoke.

He ran his tongue from your neck down to your breasts, leaving a wet trail behind that had your toes curling. You moaned as you ran your hands down his back, encouraging him to continue when you should be pushing him away and running as fast as your legs could carry you back to the safety of the event. He ran his tongue in a circular motion around one taut nipple before he pulled the hard pebble into his mouth, effectively killing any thoughts you might have had of ending this.

He reached up and cupped your other breast. He weighed it in his hand, squeezed it, and ran his thumb around the firm nipple. He held the breast up for his mouth and, after one last lick of the nipple he’d been worshipping, his mouth greedily accepted the offering. He licked and sucked the large breast until you were moaning louder and digging your fingers into his shoulders, desperate for more.

You thought you were going to die from the pleasure he was giving you. It felt incredible. Better than you’d ever imagined, but something was missing. After a moment you realised what that something was. You needed to touch him, too. Deciding that you weren't going to wait for an invitation, you worked his shirt off, desperate for the contact.

He was surprised when he felt your hands working the buttons of his coat, but immensely pleased nonetheless. Releasing your breasts, he pulled his cravat off and shrugged off his outer garments, leaving only his shirt until that too was gone.

You reached out with trembling hands and ran your fingers down his chest, enjoying the feel of his warm smooth skin over hard muscle. You ran your fingers tentatively over one flat nipple, making him groan. Your hands moved down to trace the muscles that made up his flat stomach. He groaned again, but didn’t say or do anything to stop you.

You wanted to keep touching him, but your arms were effectively pinned to your sides by your dress, limiting your movements. You worried your bottom lip nervously as you pulled your arms out and pushed the dress and shifted down around your waist. You watched as he ran hungry eyes over you. His response gave you the courage to continue. Pushing aside your nervousness, you leaned in and kissed him. William grabbed your waist and held you firmly as both of you kissed almost desperately.

Never breaking the kiss, he helped you to your feet until both of you were standing. He reached behind you and undid the buttons of your dishevelled dress. He slowly pushed it down and waited patiently until you stepped out of your dress, leaving you naked except for your stockings and slippers. Only one person had seen you naked before and that had been your maid. You should be embarrassed, but oddly enough with him you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. You felt beautiful, wanted and cherished.

You watched as he kneeled down in front of you. He gently rolled your stockings down, taking your slippers off in the process. He pressed hot kisses to your skin as he made his way back up to your mouth. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him hungrily, unable to get enough of him.

His hands roamed over your body, touching your arms, breasts, stomach, back, bottom and legs. Every touch made your stomach tighten and the area between your legs ache. You wanted more, but didn’t know what.

William seemed to know. He moved his mouth to your neck and suckled your skin on the way back to your breasts. Once he found your nipple, his hand worked its way between your legs. He cupped you and ran his fingers through slick folds. You moaned loudly, unable to help yourself.

When he slipped a finger inside you, he found you hot, wet, and ready. He groaned and moved his mouth back to yours while he worked a finger in and out of you. Soon you were moving against his finger, your body desperate for release. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t even think of anything beyond getting inside you.

His other hand worked frantically at his pants. With a groan, he broke off the kiss and removed his hand from the honeyed heaven he couldn't wait to explore. He reached down, pushed his pants down and pulled his boots off until he was naked as well.

His lips quickly made their way back to yours. It was a desperate need that he couldn’t deny. He gasped and then moaned loudly into your mouth when he felt your fingers run curiously over his erection. Never in a million years had he thought that you would be this passionate, hadn’t known that it was possible.

He reached between you and gently wrapped your hand around his length and moved it, showing you what he liked. You did it, making him pant and groan. He slid his hand back between your legs, sliding a second finger inside you until you were moaning and crying softly into his mouth. They stood there for several minutes as pleasure soared through their bodies.

It was too much for any sane man to take. He pulled his hand away and pushed you gently onto the long cushioned bench with his body brushing your hand away. He kissed you deeply as he positioned himself. Part of him was aware that he was very likely about to take your virginity, but he didn’t care. You weren't saying anything and neither was he. Both of you were too far-gone at the moment to care about rules, propriety or the consequences that were most likely going to tear your lives apart.

William aimed himself and pushed in, unable to wait any longer. He heard your gasp of pain and kissed you deeply, trying to distract you. The tip of his shaft came in contact with the proof of your innocence. When you didn't protest, scream, or demand that he get off you, he pulled back and thrust in until he was buried deep inside of you.

Somehow he was able to hold back when everything in him demanded that he move. One look at your beautiful face and he was knocked on his ass. You were heartbreakingly beautiful as you tried to give him a reassuring smile even as tears trailed down your face. He pressed tender kisses to your cheeks, kissing away your tears, wanting to reassure you that he would take care of you.

He moved his mouth back to yours and he kissed you slowly, trying to show you how much being with you meant to him. He’d never felt so much for another person in his entire life and for someone he didn’t know it surprised him. He never allowed anyone to get close to him, and didn't trust anyone. He couldn't understand how you consumed his every wish and desire. He wanted to hold you all night and keep you safe from harm, something that he’d never wanted to do with another woman.

Soon, you grew accustomed to the invasion and began to wiggle beneath him, testing his control. He slowly rolled his hips making sure that you were truly ready for him. He could feel your mouth curve into a smile beneath his and that’s when he realised that he was smiling as well, making him chuckle. For the first time in a long time, he felt carefree. He kissed you deeply as he slowly thrust inside you, enjoying the feel of wet silken walls caressing his cock.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to hold him inside you. William cupped your breast, gently squeezing it as his thumb ran over your hard nipple. Moans, crackles of the fire, and the sounds of bodies gently slapping against each other echoed throughout the dimly lit orangery.

William could feel your body tighten like a vice around him. He groaned as he moved harder and faster, making you cry out in pleasure. Your fingernails dug into his back, but he didn’t care. He opened his eyes and watched as your world exploded. He needed you to find your release before he could pull out. He was determined to make this good for you. Your body began squeezing ruthlessly around his length. As good as it felt to have you grip his cock like this, it felt even better knowing that he’d been the one to give you this pleasure. Hell, he wanted to laugh and scream for joy that this beautiful minx found her moment with him. His minx.

The reality of the moment hit him hard. You were still squeezing him and moaning. Your mouth found his neck and kissed it greedily, sucking and licking and driving him out of his goddamn mind. He couldn’t hold back. He desperately needed to pull out. It was getting too close. Just one more thrust he told himself, just one more.

As his release rushed up on him, he gasped, trying to find the strength to pull out of you. Just as he somehow found the willpower to pull out you began squeezing him again, completely shattering his resistance. His head dropped back and he bit back a roar of pleasure as he found his own release. It was the most intense moment of his life. He continued to move until he was sure that you were done. When he felt your walls squeeze gently around him one last time, he fell on you, lazily kissing your neck, chin and mouth. Still neither of you spoke.

William was too weak to speak. It was the oddest way to take a woman’s virginity, without any spoken words of promise or explanation. He’d always been a gentle lover, taking a woman slowly to prolong his release. He'd never even taxed himself before. Right now his body was exhausted and soaked. This was the most intense sexual experience of his life and he didn’t even know your name.

Not that he ever made love to an innocent before, but surely something should have been said. Names should have been exchanged at the very least. It was without question the most passionate night of his life. He’d never been so moved by lust or need before to make him this desperate to make love to a woman.

He pulled back to look at you, expecting you to cry, scream or hit him. He’d been a cad taking your innocence. But instead of doing what he’d expected, what he deserved, you smiled sweetly up at him and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. William turned the kiss into a slow, deep display of appreciation, passion and need. He was still inside of you and surprised to discover that he was hardening again. He wanted you once more, desperately, but he couldn’t do that to you.

He took a steadying breath and slowly began to pull out, however, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and trapped him. He raised an eyebrow in question. Then you spoke for the first time since you'd started. “Can we do it again?” you asked shyly.

Will could only chuckle. He leaned down and kissed you. “Yes, minx, we can do it again.” He punctuated every word with a slow thrust of his hardening shaft, "In one condition. . ." He paused his hips from grinding against you.

"What is it?" You whispered breathlessly.

"Let me paint an intimate portrait of you. You'd make a perfect model." Will whispers his condition against your ear, causing electricity to shoot down your spine.

You placed your palms over his chest and pushed him away, "And be showcased in exhibits like this for the world to see? Forget it."

"I didn't say anything about showing it to the world, my lady. It's intimate, it's private. It's only for my eyes to admire." Will lowered his head, his lips grazing yours as he spoke these bold statements.

A broad smile curved in your lips, "I like you."

He took you slowly this time, enjoying every single thrust inside your body. You were passionate, very passionate. You weren't content with lying there while he bedded you. You kissed his mouth, chin, and neck greedily while your hands ran through his hair, down his back, and finally cupped his ass. He could swear that you moaned with pleasure just from touching him.

He broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough away so that he could watch your face. You smiled shyly at him. You were so damn beautiful. He slowed his rhythm and made his thrusts shallower, stressing each movement. You licked your lips hungrily.

“You like that, don’t you, minx?”

“Y-yes, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head. “Never.”

He gently took your hands and held them above your head, entwining your fingers as he made love to you. The gesture made what you were doing feel more intense. Soon you were throwing your head back and whimpering.

William took your mouth, kissing you deeply as he quickened his thrusts inside you. You gripped his hands tightly. He felt your body tighten around him once again. There was no point in pulling out now. The damage was already done. You exploded at the same moment. William didn’t bother trying to hide his pleasure this time. Both of you were too far away from the loud exhibit for anyone to hear you both. Even if they weren’t, there was no way to stop him now.

“Oh God!” he roared.

He collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sated. He didn’t know many women who appreciated a sweaty man on top of them, so he moved to roll off you when your small warm arms wrapped around his shoulders.

His minx pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. You pulled him closer while you ran your hands over his damp back in a soothing motion. He kissed your cheek and was surprised when you sighed with pleasure. He couldn’t help but wonder how women could be so completely different.

You moved your head back so that you could look into his eyes. “Thank you for tonight. I’ll always remember it.” you looked and sounded so grateful. He couldn’t imagine what he'd done for you besides take your innocence without asking. He shouldn’t be thanked. He should be shot.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Minx,-”

“Shhh,” you pressed a finger to his mouth. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about this. It was perfect. This will always be the most passionate night of my life and I will always treasure it. Please don’t be mad. I’m not.”

“Minx,” he began again, “you should be mad…what we did….what I did was inexcusable. I-“

“No, no words, no apologies. Just let it remain this perfect moment between two strangers who found comfort with each other.”

Comfort? It was a hell of lot more than comfort. It was intense, indescribable, and possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done. He’d just got himself leg shackled to this beautiful stranger.

After a long pause, he reluctantly nodded. There was no sense in arguing with you. He would never force a woman to do anything that you didn’t want to do. He certainly wasn’t about to thank this woman for the most wonderful night of his life by robbing you of your freedom without justification.

“How’s my hair?” you asked after both of you were finished redressing yourselves.

The smile took on a different meaning as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Perfect.”

“Also, here,” he said suddenly as he searched his pockets. He pulled out a small pencil stub and a small piece of parchment from his jacket pocket and wrote his name and address on it.

With a chuckle, you took the folded piece of parchment and placed it in you reticule. “Happy?”

He smiled. “Extremely.”

“Shall I go first and make my excuses to leave?”

He respectively nodded. “Thank you for a most wonderful evening, minx.”

“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you said, smiling shyly as you turned away and headed for the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You had to force a pleasant smile and a deliberate stride through the crowded halls, even if all you wanted to do was get away from everyone and find a quiet place to help your pounding heart. As you made your way to an office, you avoided the many unwelcome suitors and, more crucially, your mother by blending in with the crowd. With no second thoughts, you slammed the door shut and locked it, then sank to the floor.

It only took a few seconds for reality to sink in. A sensation of your heart pounding in your chest was present. You just lost your virginity at a party to some random bloke you didn't know. While it was an amazing experience, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if someone had found both of you or if he had been a fortune hunter. You could at this very moment be forced to announce your engagement to a man that you didn't know.

Your entire future could have been ruined in a matter of minutes all because you allowed yourself to be carried away in a moment of weakness. You'd been so foolish and so incredibly lucky.

How could you have done something so irrational? You had a plan for your life and it most certainly didn’t involve making love to a man you didn't know in a well-lit orangery where anyone could have stumbled upon you. In a matter of months you were going to turn twenty-four and gain control over your inheritance. Then you would move to your north estate where you would live out the rest of your life away from the nonsense of this town.

You'd been such a foolish woman tonight allowing yourself to be swept away by a deep alluring voice, good looks, beautiful eyes and an overwhelming need to do the wrong thing. You'd been helpless to deny him. When his lips had touched yours, it felt like a fire had been lit in your body and you couldn't seem to get enough of him. Your cheeks burned with humiliation. What he must think of you!

A rather disturbing thought occurred to you. What if you ran into each other at another event or a party? Would he expect a repeat of tonight? Would you allow it? It scared you how quickly you were able to answer that question.

Yes, you would. If you were given another opportunity to be in his arms, you would not hesitate even for a minute. You'd risk everything for another moment with him. Knowing how weak you were when it came to the handsome stranger and what was at risk, you decided there was only one course of action left for you. You had to leave Arkham sooner than you'd originally planned.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“There you are!” One of his professors, Mr. Dixon said brightly, too damn brightly.

William glanced around the large crowded space, hoping to find his minx. True to your word you had left. Now he was left at this dreadful event with memories of you. He could simply ask around about you, but then that would put them in an awkward position. People would want to know why he was interested and tongues would wag.

"Where have you been, boy? Dr. Reid is waiting to see you. Need I remind you that you're the winner of the student art prize?"

"No need, Sir." Will supplied a subtle impatient sigh.

Dixon releases a small grunt and straightens Will's collar and tie, "There, much better. Come along. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

No one in this place would suspect that Dixon had William's arm in a death grip that would no doubt leave a large bruise. Not that Will minded. He would have other marks on his body from his minx. He barely stopped himself from grinning like an idiot. You truly were wonderful, he thought just before he spotted Dr. Reid and a few other committee members standing in front of his artworks, making his smile disappear instantly out of nervousness.

“You must be William Thurber,” Dr. Reid said with a warm smile as he reached out and took Will's hand firmly into his own. The man was graying, but still an impressive sight.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Reid,” Will smiled and out of the corner of his eye he saw who he assumed was Dr. Reid's wife whisper something into a young man's ear. The young man shot his mother an annoyed look and walked away, clearly displeased with whatever his mother said.

“I must say that you are one talented artist, my boy. The way you capture beauty in your artwork is truly. . . Captivating. Congratulations.” Dr. Reid said with a warm smile that was nothing like the fake smile his wife currently had plastered to her face.

“Thank you very much,” Will said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dr. Reid and his wife part. A second later a young woman was practically shoved between them. He saw Joe gasp and his eyes widened. Mr. Dixon looked very pleased, as did his other classmates.

William turned around to see what they were looking at and smiled. His minx.

“Mr. Dixon, William, Joe, I believe none of you have met my youngest daughter, (Y/N)?” Dr. Reid said proudly.

William felt his blood drain away from his head. Oh, hell.

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