#just like... harry being a crooked lawyer
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i've been thinking about this au for a while now... harry being jimmy and kim kitsuragi being kim wexler...... and instead of chuck, jean is harry's old partner who broke things off because he was so crooked... my brain is bubbling rn
#harry du bois#harry du bois fanart#disco elysium#disco elysium fanart#de#de fanart#my art#just like... harry being a crooked lawyer#and kim not liking it but also at the same time not being able to stop himself from being a part of it#bc harry is so charasmatic#ohhhhhhhhghhgh my god#its so perfect#please say i am not alone in this
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Zannah, I can’t wait for Prince Philip! I loved Fathoms Below too!
I think that after the divorce when Charlie can be with you that he will really want to be with you! Showing you off and parading his affection for you around!
Can you please give us something with Charlie being a bit of an exhibitionist or even pushing things too far? Anything you think would be fun.
(1.2K, canon-divergent where Charlie wins the custody battle, cw: implied infidelity, but really lots of fluff, excessive PDA)
You’ve never seen him so happy, once it’s a done deal. Once the ink has dried and the terms have been agreed on once and for all, once Charlie’s a free man. The divorce lawyers in that big building in the sky all look at him with raised eyebrows, because they’ve never seen someone practically skipping out of their floor the way Charlie does, elated excited overjoyed.
But they don’t know, that now that it’s all done, he’s practically racing his way to you.
The sun washes over New York City, and he spreads his arms wide soaking up the rays. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so young, so much adrenaline coursing through his veins. Henry is with Nicole for the weekend as a way to get some time in before saying goodbye, and Charlie wants nothing more than to be with you.
He had been with you for quite some time of course, but never like this. Not like the way he can buy flowers and not have to hide them behind his back as he approaches your door. Not like the way he can pull you in for a kiss right in front of everyone, no longer having to worry about what the neighbors might think.
“I love you.” He announces, his voice loud loud loud on the day it’s all settled, and his face is lit up like the Hudson when the sunshine hits it just right. “I love you and I want the world to know.”
“I love you too Charlie.” You grin at him, and something in your spine tingles about the fact that you get to say it proudly, because it’s true, it’s always been true.
Taking you by the hand, he beams at you with those handsomely crooked teeth of his, and pulls you out of your house with a laugh.
“Where are we going?” You let yourself be pulled along, let yourself walk in time with his long legs, an even pace.
“Anywhere, everywhere!” Charlie laughs, feeling a thousand pounds lighter without the golden band around his finger, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, his energy contagious as he stops abruptly and picks you up, twirls you around and around in the air asking, “Where do you want to go? The world is our oyster, sweetheart!”
He could practically break out into song and dance, remembering why he fell in love with theater in the first place, musical numbers waiting to explode out of his chest right there on the sidewalk.
“You know what I haven’t done in a long time?” The idea pops into your head, a slightly unconventional date idea, considering Charlie was known for his grand plans.
“What’s that?” He’s at once interested, holding you close to his chest, his hands groping at your ass, at your sides right there in front of everyone.
“Visit the Met, let’s go there.” You bite at your lip, shimmying away for only as far as you could manage before he scoops you up in his arms again, the two of you love-drunk and elated all the while.
He can’t keep his hands off of you the entire trip there. The subways are packed but that’s okay, he has you sat right on his lap, his arms wound around your middle. You at least have the decency to look embarrassed about it, but Charlie is blissfully unaware of the looks that some more concerned passengers were throwing his way. He kisses at your neck, chaste kisses but still kisses nonetheless, squeezes your thigh.
He doesn’t let go of your hand once as you get off at the right stop and walk up from underground. The perfect gentleman that he is, he opens all the doors for you and like the brat he can be, he pinches and smacks at your ass as you pass him by. He even goes so far as to try and sneak his hand under your skirt on occasion, making you smack at his hands for being so bold, so crass.
But it isn’t until you find yourselves in front of a large painting, an old oil master work of a pair of lovers embracing, that Charlie really throws all caution to the wind. You’re looking up at it in wonder, moved by the artwork in front of you, moved by the beauty of the composition and execution. In turn, Charlie is moved by you. He is reminded that this is what love is supposed to feel like, how a partner is supposed to make him feel.
He can’t help but tug on your hand to get your attention, can’t help but capture your lips in a heated searing kiss right there on the museum floor. You smile against his lips and melt into his embrace, the little pamphlet fluttering to the marble below your feet as your arms wind around his shoulders.
There’s people all around, but Charlie doesn’t care. In fact he’s glad they’re there, glad that they can witness his love for you. His hands begin to wander, clutching you tightly to him just the same way that the lovers in the painting do. He is elated that he can do this freely without consequence, and he wants to do it all the time.
A long time ago in a dark theater, Charlie had shouted up at the ghosts that sneered down at him from the rafters – but look at him now. Look at the two of you, together after it all, together at last! He wishes that he could commission an artist to render this moment, two people so adoring of one another, that in two thousand years perhaps another couple could kiss in front of.
His large hand covers your face as he cups your jaw, pries your mouth open with his and licks against your tongue, soft sounds of your kissing echoing in this little gallery of the museum. You sigh against his mouth, and he smiles, kisses like he’s going to devour you – until the security guard in the corner clears his throat, and you both give an apologetic smile, moving through the rest of the Met.
Later, when you’re back in his bed at his house that he bought with the three of you in mind, you’re tucked up against his naked sweaty chest as you share a cigarette, and you sigh.
“Today was wonderful.” You say softly, because it was, it really was. From the museum to the pizza joint you stopped at on the way back home, to the dogs you saw in the park and the butterfly that landed on Charlie’s shoulder while he smoked, it felt like today was the beginning of a new chapter in everyone’s lives.
“I’m glad you think so.” Charlie says, and you have no way of knowing, but he’s thinking the exact same thing. His voice goes shy then for a moment, uncharacteristically nervous as he continues softly, “It can be like this every day…if you want.”
You should have known your answer would get you tackled with kisses, but you don’t think about that in the moment. All you can think about, is how you can’t imagine your life any other way than being spent with Charlie and Henry, as you wink and respond with a cheeky,
“You promise?”
----------------
Tagging some Charlie lovin’ pals! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @lovinghufflepuffgirl @miabelay11 @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad
#charlie barber#charlie barber x reader#charlie barber/reader#charlie barber x you#charlie barber/you#marriage story#adam driver fanfic#adcu#my writing#charlie barber fluff
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Mine
Prompt: In which a jealous and protective Harry gets into a fight defending your honor, and you decide to repay him.
Pairing: Harry x Reader
Smutty fluff. Word count: 3,446. Rated mature.
A/N: I’ve been lurking the Harry fic tag for a while now, and have become so inspired by many of the writers and stories I have encountered on here. This is my first ever Harry fanfic. Please be gentle. Likes/reblogs and any love would be appreciated! Enjoy. x
“That wasn’t quite treating people with kindness, was it?”
You stare down at your boyfriend who is sitting on the hotel sofa, grinning up at you through his lashes and a gruesome bloody lip.
“Fuckin’ tosser shouldn’t have been grabbing at you though. That’s right, innit?”
You press the towel of ice over his eyelid, which is already turning an angry purple and puffing up.
It’s a fucking messy picture. Harry can only stare at you with one eye. His cheek looks equally upset, scratched and bruised. When he winces, his lip cracks again oozing blood and saliva from the pressure of mouth and teeth and dribbling onto his floral shirt. His hands are still shaking, swollen too -
This is not how you wanted to spend your last night in London before going home to see his family for the holidays.
It was only supposed to be one night out. Dinner and then some drinks at a fancy club that Gemma had suggested months ago. You’d gone to the bar to grab some shots ---- when a red faced, tan man with greasy blonde hair had appeared at your side as you waited for the bartender to prepare your drinks.
He’d been leaning against the bar. He used one arm to stroke your hair, his fingers dipping into your hair to brush back some strands behind your ear. The same hand then moved to train down the exposed skin of your arms. “Mmm,” he said. “Don’t you look like a present? My name’s Michael. What’s your name, love?”
“Oh-” you stuttered, trying to shrug out of his grasp. “Hi. Sorry I’m with-”
“With me, right? You’re a fucking stunner. Meant to be - that’s what we are.”
“Sorry. No. Thank you-” he was so close you had to turn in his embrace to be able to face the bartender again. You took the two glasses in each hand and tried to shift away but he wrapped the other arm around your waist, squeezing you. You were frozen.
Your eyes tried to scan the crowd for Harry’s face, the music making you feel something akin to drowning as this Michael’s hands deepened their hold on your skin. You froze as you felt them move to your ass.
“I’m here with my boyfriend. Sorry.” you tried to recoil and raise the glasses up, so it would block him from trying to smash his face against yours. But it didn’t work, he took your protest as something enticing. It provoked him to move closer -- you could vomit.
“Your what?” he tried to play along. “Where’s he? Wouldn’t let you outta my sight if you were mine.”
Then you heard a low, deep voice boom from behind you.
“She’s here with her fucking boyfriend.”
“Harry-” you could hear the shrillness in your voice, your throat threatening to close around the anxiety and panic that had begun to pull you under. Your heart felt like it might soar with relief. He grabbed you to him so quickly, it felt like whiplash, the drinks jostling, tequila spilling on his expensive blazer. “Harry, I’m sorry-”
But he didn’t seem to hear you as he shoved you behind him.
And Michael? The man was laughing. You watched him over Harry’s shoulder, your cheek pressed against his back.
“You’re a fucking bitch!” he spit, before his eyes landed on Harry. “God. Don’t I know you from the telly?” He chuckled. His mouth widening when recognition dawned on him. “Oh shit! Fucking popstar!” His eyes fell on some of the people who were now turning around in the commotion-
“Harry,” you tried to tug on your boyfriend’s arm. “Let’s go.”
But it felt like you weren’t there. His eyes were still focused on the drunk man in front of him.
“You were saying something?” he said. His jaw ticked. The vein in his neck was pulsing. “Come on with it, then? Fuckin’ tosser.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed, as if hearing him for the first time. He stepped closer to Harry.
“Harry, come on-” you begged.
“You had something to fucking say-” Harry didn’t flinch, even as your grip on his tightened. Your nails digging into his skin-
“I. Said.” He blew air in Harry’s face. “You should keep an eye on your fucking slag.”
Harry laughed. He did this when he got angry. Got sarcastic. There are times where you’ve argued and the sound was so cold, it felt like it could turn you to stone. It’s a memory you don’t think about often - the moments are so few and far between- but now-
In a blur, you saw Harry raise his fist and punch Michael right in the face. He threw the force of his body in it, the heavy rings on his fingers connecting with his nose at such an ugly, and gruesome angle. You could tell Harry’s reaction had caught him by surprise, he crumpled to the floor in one movement, hands grasping at his face, red dripping onto his fingers. He sounded like he was choking.
“Harry!” you screamed.
The crowd around you fell into a thunderous commotion, a crescendo of shouting combined with the music and flashes. The wave of people tightening to get better shots.
“Fucking asshole!” Harry shouted. “Disgusting. Bastard. Fucking idiot!”
You tried to wrap both arms around his waist, tried to grab him away from the scene unfolding in front of you but it was too late. You could feel the way his skin seemed to vibrate under your touch. Michael grabbed for him and tried to punch him back but he missed his jaw, instead splitting his mouth in two. He tried to swing again on his crooked feet and hit Harry in the cheek. Harry made a show of spitting blood onto the tiled floor, his eyes narrowing as his fist connected with Michael’s face again and again.
“Fucking asshole! Fucking asshole!” You saw spots of blonde hair, the commotion seemed to pulse around you.
“Harry! Fuck, Harry stop!”
You grabbed at Harry to pull him off Michael right as the guards of the club broke up the fight.
“The fuck is going on here?” one giant, burly man said. His arms extended out to separate both men.
Harry spit out more blood. “That’s my fucking girlfriend!” he glanced back to stare into your panicked eyes. “Fucking bastard grabbed at her. Wouldn’t let her go. Could we not have gotten some fucking help? Bullshit. This the kind of guys you want in your place?” Harry narrowed his eyes.
“That true?” the guard turned to where Michael still lay in a heap on the floor. “You try to make a grab at her?”
“I was-I” he tried to stutter around an alibi.
Then the focus was on you. “He made you feel unsafe, ma’am?”
You could sink under the attention. You felt so small. Harry seemed to sense this, his bloodied hands moved to grasp you and just that - his hands on your forearms, holding in you place- was enough. You tried to find your voice.
“Was just getting our drinks. He grabbed me, I couldn’t move-his hands were on my-”
The guard’s face fell, full of understanding. “Alright-” he grabbed Michael’s arms and pulled them back. “You’re out of here, mate. S’what you get for being an asshole.”
Harry’s head followed them. He was still breathing hard.
Michael started to yell as he was carried away, “Oi! Fucking popstar, I hope you got some fucking lawyers ready. Won’t fucking get away with this!”
“Harry,” you grabbed at him. “Harry-let’s go-”
But his eyes were still so far away.
“Fucking bitch,” Michael spat blood in your direction.
“Harry,” you narrowed your voice, your arms locked around his waist. He stared down at you, as if finally realizing what happened, as if he was looking at you for the first time in a while. His arm was tight around your neck. “Let’s go. Please.”
Deepening his stare, he squeezed you tight with a quick peck to your head and finally -finally - let you steer him towards the exit.
---
“Your mom’s gonna kill me.”
“Mum’s not gonna kill you.”
“She won’t get any photos of you at Christmas now that your face has been smashed in.”
At that, Harry seems to agree, you know by the silence you fall into as you continue working. The club owner was gracious enough to let you two through a private back entrance so you could try to avoid anymore prying eyes from the cameras on the videos you’re sure people recorded on their cellphones, as well as the photographers that had gathered outside in the commotion as a result of a bunch of tweets and texts going out.
You’d been silent on the ride home too, holding Harry’s clasped hands in your lap. Insisting on asking the Uber driver to stop at a pharmacy so you could grab a first aid kit to patch your boyfriend back together again.
You asked the driver to go around the back of the hotel to avoid some photographers that had already gathered outside. And once there, you carried Harry up to the hotel room with his arm staying slung over your shoulder, keeping you tight to his side even when you had to take the bucket from the fridge down to fill it with ice cubes for his face.
And now, sitting on your knees in front of Harry, you still don’t know whether to be upset with him.
Sure, you’d been scared - horribly frightened even- when you heard the crack of that douchebag’s bone under his fist. But there’s a larger, almost unbeknownst part of yourself that you don’t want to acknowledge - the relief that had rushed over you when Harry had appeared by your side, his big hands moving you behind him. The way your heart thrummed, the chill down your spine at the angry, dangerous look in Harry’s eyes. To see him look so out of control with his anger. So unhinged. God, it might have even made you a little wet.
But you won’t tell Harry that, not yet at least. Not when he’s still hurt and simultaneously being a smug little shit as you treat his wounds. You let the silence draw out like the space between you. You try to ignore the way you can feel his eyes on you, you think it’s just him trying to make sure you’re okay, maybe waiting for you into go into hysterics - but no, he’s always like this. Some part of him always itching to be a part of you. As if to demonstrate it, he keeps one long arm reaching towards you, his large hand resting draped over your lap as you lean in to inspect his face.
“Ice is melting. Let me change it,” you say, gingerly unfolding the hand on his eye. You scoop more ice out from the bucket and into another towel. “Press it down.” You remind him, as he holds it to his eye with the hand not on your leg. You unwrap a pack of bandages, alcohol, ointment and go to work.
“‘It’s gonna make the paper tomorrow, babe.” He winces as you swipe the alcohol across his cheek, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the cut or the truth you’ve just reminded him is dawning. “Might even be online already. Probably trending.”
“Shit-” he mutters.
A long minute passes before he speaks again.
“S’gonna be alright.” he whispers. “We’ll be alright.”
“Mmmhmm,” you say back, your attention focused on cleaning the rest of the drying blood on his cheek. His usually flawless pale skin flushes in your grasp.
“M’sorry about work.” he says, softly as if he’s embarrassed. You only nod in silence as you smooth another band-aid across his cheekbone, your fingers pressing against the sharpness of it - too distracted to really consider the gossip that will follow you back to the elementary school you work at. The nosey coworkers. Idly, you think -hope, pray- that the holiday will create enough distance. You don’t think the school would like another barrage of paparazzi trying to loom around the campus. You remember the scowl that had gripped Harry’s face when you told him that someone had tried to follow you home-
“It’s okay,” you tell him, your fingers grasping his face so he knows you’re serious. “You were only defending my honor.”
At that, he blinks, the smoothness of his lips trembling from a straight line into a curve. He beams up at you. “I was…?”
You straighten your back to dump the bloodied wash cloth and bandages into the bin next to you. “I should repay you for that, shouldn’t I?”
In the corner of your eye you see Harry perk up, the air shifting as he realizes you’re no longer angry or upset with him. At least, not anymore.
He closes his eyes as you run your hands through the curls on his head, scratching your nails at the nape of his neck where he likes it best. You move onto your knees to slide into his lap and straddle his thighs.
“God. I love your face. Hate to see it like this.” you admit to him, nuzzling close to where the buttons of his shirt are open, your lips pressing kisses to his throat and collarbones. “Wish I could kiss you.”
“Got other parts of me you can kiss, pet.”
You smirk at him, pulling back to smooth your hair over one shoulder. “Is that right?”
“Can’t you feel me?” He chuckles. “Want you so bad, honey.”
He hisses as you move to unbuckle the belt of his pants, your warm fingers digging into the waistband of his underwear to take him into your hand. He licks his lips and whines as you grasp him, pulling tight at the tip where he’s already throbbing and leaking and pushing down.
He whines. “Mmm, so hard, love.”
“Yeah? Getting into fights make you hard, Harry? Saw red when you saw someone touching what was yours?”
“Shit-” he says. It’s a grunt through his clenched teeth. The gravely sound of it makes you clench at the sound. “Yeah-yeah. You’re mine. Fuck. I don’t know what came over me.” He laughs, low in his throat. “I think I could’a fuckin’ killed him-”
“Should do something for you then, huh?” You giggle, a mischievous smile stretching over your lips. “How do you want me, H?”
“On your knees,” he says. “Want your mouth. Take me into your mouth, love.”
His eyes seem to find clarity for a moment, the deepness of his voice guiding you back onto the floor.
Usually you pepper kisses down his abdomen, kiss every one of his tattoos but there is no time for that tonight. It’s not what he deserves. Quickly, you make work of his clothes, pulling his trousers and underwear down enough to pull his cock out. You move onto your knees to hover over him, hot breath and lips kissing up the length of him-
Your cheeks feel hot as you let his voice guide you, even though you’ve done this so many times.
“None of that right now please. Put me in love.” Harry moans as you open your mouth wide, your eyes locked with his green gaze, never breaking contact as you let him use you to get off. One hand grasping the base of himself so he can feed you his cock. Your lips work over the thickness of him, something you’ll never ever get used to. Your mouth and chin becoming slick with your spit and his precum as you work your mouth on him. He feels heavy against your tongue. “God, you suck it so well. Take me so well, love. Fuck. Your mouth’s so soft-”
“Why’re you so good to me?” he babbles on. Your ears feels like they’re prickling under the warmth of his praise. You would be smiling at him if your mouth wasn’t so stuffed with his cock. “God. Why’re you so good to me? Suckin’ me so well. And probably gonna let me eat your cunt later, huh? Have got such a pretty pussy too. My baby-”
You try to press your thighs together but it’s not enough. It’s as if every one of Harry’s grunts and moans is able to egg your hands on. It’s hard but you untangle your fingers from his to slip it under your dress and push your panties aside to press them against where you are aching and disappointingly empty. Your lips are firm as you moan around Harry’s length.
You watch his neck roll back against the couch, the line of his jaw tipping up towards the ceiling as he swallows hard. His Adam’s Apple is bobbing. “God, does sucking my cock make you wet, love? You’re so sweet. Do you like it when I come for you? It makes you so wet-God. Fuck. I can hear it. I can hear how wet you are for me.”
One of his hands stays clasped over your forearm, which is resting against the tiger tattoo on his thigh and gripping the base of him where your mouth can’t stretch. The other is tangled in your hair, combing it back and cupping your cheek so he can stare into your face as you suck him off.
“Fuck,” he says, as if disbelief is caught in his throat. “Let me see that pretty face stretched over my cock. You’re so beautiful, baby.” At that, you hollow your cheeks and hum back in appreciation.
You can tell Harry’s close when he gets more desperate. His grunts and moans get closer together, his fingers more frantic to find purchase on something.
“Don’t,” he grunts, even as his fingers have moved to grip the back of your head to keep you in place so he can fuck into your mouth. His hips are stuttering off the edge of the couch as he gasps, “You’ll make me come. Y/N. You’ll make me come. Oh god-”
His voice breaks, cracking around the sound of your name as he spills deep into your mouth.
“Y/N. Y/N. Fuck me- Y/N,” he says.
You take him in deep, swallowing down the taste of him as he trembles and whimpers your name again and again. Not one drop left spared, because just like he is always so desperate to be a part of you, you’re so very desperate for every inch of him.
You moan your appreciation back and hold him there until he starts to soften. The muscles in your jaw and throat ache but you’re happy. His fingers stroke the back of your head when you know he’s become too sensitive, and you let him slip from your mouth. You lick around the length of his cock, his balls, pressing lips to his stomach and cleaning him up. Resting your head against his torso and rubbing your fingers and lips against the leaves on his belly as you listen to him calm down.
“Fuck. C’mere love-” You tuck him back into his pants and pull yourself up the length of him to press your mouth to his. His fingers grasp your face tenderly and clench in your hair, his moans deepening as he tastes himself on your tongue. “Thank you. God, I love you so much. I needed that. Needed you.”
“Thank you,” you tell him, as you settle back into the nest of his lap. “Don’t want you starting a fuss over me. Or hurting this beautiful face. My favorite face. But still, thank you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you, kissing the top of his head and the roots of his hair.
“For what?” he muses, with a mischievous grin. He slides his other hand around your waist and presses his face into your throat and nuzzling the top of your breasts, cuddling closer.
“For defending my honor,” You cradle his blistered hand up to your face and kiss the rings on his knuckles as you begin listing things off. “For not letting that asshole get away. For showing everyone not to mess with what’s yours.”
“Did what I had to do, didn’t I?” he says, looking up at you. Your heart clenches at the conviction in his voice. The crease in his eye somehow still making him more adorable, even all puffed up. The dimple in his cheek deepening.
“You’re my woman,” he says in a voice that sounds like nothing else in his life could be more true.
You kiss the side of his mouth, his cheek tenderly as he whispers into your hair-
“And I’m your man.”
____
A/N: Hope you liked this! Fine Line has inspired me to try to write a story for each track on the album. This was what I came up with for Treat People with Kindness, as the joke y/n makes in the beginning popped in my head! More stories to come hopefully.
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles oneshot#harry styles oneshots#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#mine#my writing
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Eastwood
So I watched all the westerns by Eastwood. Below you’ll find my list of what I’d say are his best to not necessarily worst just not great. Keep in mind that this list is just my opinion and yours very well may differ and hey that’s great. Also keep in mind there will be spoilers but to be fair the majority of these movies are older than me. I would also like to point out that I didn’t view Rawhide as I really didn’t seem like something I’d like. The list is as best as I can tell are all of his westerns. Some are kind of iffy as I don’t consider them a western.
http://most-wanted-western-movies.com/clint-eastwood-westerns/
1.”Unforgiven” 1992
My original pick was going to be “For a Few dollars more”. I re-watched Unforgiven again and have decided that Unforgiven is his best western. Made in 1992. It features Morgan Freeman, Gene Hackman and Richard Harris. There might even be more stars but those are the ones that stood out to me. The plot basically goes like this. William Munny a ruthless killer back in the day settles down with a woman who changes his life. He gave up his killer ways. The wife is already dead when the movie starts and Munny stays on the good path for lack of better phrasing. I don’t want to spoil to much more but needless to say a large bounty put on some ruffians leads to some nice action.
I love the soundtrack to this movie. Well at least one song in particular and that’s Claudia’s theme. You can YouTube if you wish. I think it’s really great.
A couple of quotes that I enjoyed.
“ I've killed women and children. I've killed everything that walks or crawls at one time or another. And I'm here to kill you, Little Bill, for what you done to Ned”
.”It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have.“
2. “For a few dollars more” 1965
This is the sequel to a “Fistful of dollars”. It’s part of the famous dollar trilogy movies. Made in 1965 Eastwood portrays the man with no name. I really like Lee Van Cleef as Col. Douglas Mortimer. It’s a revenge type of western. Both Cleef and Eastwood characters are pretty much bounty hunters. Cleef has an entirely different motive for his actions though. They seem to have great chemistry together too. I also like the dialogue between them as well. Clint Eastwood's character calls Lee Van Cleef's character "old man", while Van Cleef's character calls Eastwood "boy". Once more I love the music plays when the pocket watch is opened up.
3.” A fist full of dollars.” 1964
The beginning if you will of the the man with no name trilogy or dollars trilogy which ever you prefer. The dollars trilogy is what you call a spaghetti western. “ Spaghetti westerns were not rated highly due to their low budgets, over the top violence and inferior art work. But, these Spaghetti Westerns changed that perception forever. Director Sergio Leone gave one after another hit and this trilogy made Clint Eastwood a mega star. “ Some people don’t like them or they find them to corny. Each to their own. I loved the movies. My father pointed out to me one of the things that bugged him was the constant camera cuts to the other characters in the film. It especially focuses on their eyes. I never noticed it until he pointed it out. I do love the scene where he confronts the bullies/bad guys. On his way to them. He passes by the undertaker and tells him to get three coffins ready. After the shootout he passes back by the undertaker and tells him my mistake 4 coffins.
4. “The Good, The bad and the Ugly.” 1966
The last of the dollars trilogy. A lot of people will say that this is the best of the three movies. Like the previous film it also stars Lee Van Cleef. This time though he is one of the villain’s. It’s a good movie. I enjoyed
Eli Wallach as Tuco. Once more you have the music on point with The Ecstasy of Gold. I heard that song years earlier when Metallica would use it. My last thought on this trilogy is I do love how Eastwood is always smoking those little cigars. I have read though he actually hated them.
“ You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig. “
5. “Two Mules for Sister Sara” 1970
This one is a film I really liked. It doesn’t seem to be as serious as the previous I’ve listed above. It actually has quite a few comedic moments in it. I think one of the best parts of the movie is after Hogan (Eastwood) saves Sara from impending doom. She gets dressed and comes back out in her nun gear. Once Hogan realizes she is a known his expression is great then he exclaims “Jesus Christ”. I noticed this movie had blood in it. A lot of the earlier ones don’t. One guy gets his arm cut off and one takes a machete to the face. It’s a good movie and I enjoyed it. I should note the soundtrack or at least one song they play over at times in the film is a play on the title. It sounds like a mule actually braying. Pretty nifty.
6. “Pale Rider” 1985
Another good movie. Eastwood is just known as the preacher in this movie. He helps out a prospect town from becoming a mining town. When the prospectors will not give up their land. A marshal and his deputies are sent in to get prospectors out. It’s hinted at that the marshal may know the preacher form the way he reacts after told his description. This is definitely one of my favorites though. It does get a little weird with the preacher having intercourse with a guy’s girlfriend. The action is great though. It should be noted that it’s been told that Eastwood’s charter is a ghost in this film. Richard Kiel is in this movie as well. He is a well established actor. Most likely known for playing Jaws in Moonraker.
7. Outlaw Josey wales 1976
A lot of people like this movie. It’s Eastwoods only PG rated western. It’s once more a revenge type western. Josey’s family is murdered by the Union army and he joins a confederate group to get his revenge. I think one of the best parts in the movie is when Josey shoots the rope holding a ferry going across the river. Some of the Union soldiers horses fall into the river preventing them from reaching Wales. This movie is said to be George Strait’s favorite. I did find it funny that the old man in charge of the ferry was playing to both sides. If you were a Confederate he would sing “Dixie” if you were a Union solider he would sing “Battle hymn of the republic” Ever the opportunist I suppose.
"Well Mr. Carpetbagger, we got something in this territory called a Missoura boat ride!"
"Well are ya' gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?"
8.”High plains drifter” 1973
This movie could be almost a part of the man with no name trilogy. It’s just not as good. I liked the midget character named Mordecai . He is one of the best in the movie and funny. This is one of the movies where it’s possible that the stranger (Eastwood’s character) could be a ghost. Some people say he is the sheriff’s brother. Eastwood has said that himself. Then again some people say he is the ghost of the sheriff himself. It’s up to the viewer and how you choose to interpret it. This movie also marks the first movie Eastwood directed that was a western.
“You're going to look pretty silly with that knife sticking out of your ass.“
9. “Hang’em High” 1968
This was Eastwoods first major role in America. The Dollars trilogy had yet to come out over here in America. Jed (Eastwoods character) is wrongfully hanged by a posse. He naturally seeks revenge after being rescued. He becomes a Marshal and winds up bringing some of the posse to justice. It also stars Pat Hingle. I really only know him from Tim Burton’s Batman. He played Commissioner Gordon.
10. “Joe Kidd” 1972
To be honest with you this movie really doesn’t do anything for me at all. It’s not a bad movie but it’s not one that really captivates me either. It stars Robert Duvall as a rich/wealthy landowner trying to push Mexicans off of their land. He hires Eastwood’s character named Joe Kidd. It does have some decent moments. A pretty cool scene shows Kidd taking out a gunman upon a rock. The final fight is also pretty neat where Kidd drives a train through the bar.
Honorable Mentions:
1.”Bronco Billy” 1980
This movie was on the list and I viewed it. I liked it. Eastwood plays a carnival showman. It’s your typical story of guy and girl don’t get along. Then as the movie progresses they start to get along and wind up with one another. It’s not a western but it has the theme. It does have Scatman Crothers in it as Doc. Throw in a crooked lawyer and a crooked husband and this is the movie you have.
2. “Paint your wagon” 1969
This set during the gold rush. It is a musical though and you can get the soundtrack on itunes. I heard about this movie from The Simpsons years ago. It doesn’t have a western feel to me. Eastwood plays Pardner. It’s a cool little musical. It’s an interesting movie though. A Mormon has two wives and he sells one. Well Pardner and his partner Ben rum son played by Lee Marvin buys her. Elizabeth the wife that was purchased basically has two husbands. It’s really a good movie. My favorite song being “Wand’rin Star”
3. “The Beguiled” 1971
They had this movie on the list and there again I witched it. It’s certainly not a western. It’s okay. Eastwood kind of plays a bad guy in it but only to survive. Set in the Civil War era. He is an injured Union solider rescued by a little girl. She takes him to an all girls school. It should be noted that this is the only movie in which a character portrayed by Eastwood dies.
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My fav 3 versions/interpretations of South Park characters thing!
I’m so sorry this took much longer than anticipated, I was gonna do it Friday but then I had a panic attack for the first time in forever because my CFS have been real bad lately and I was in such bad shape my BFF had to come and smack me back to life, and Sunday was suddenly full on breakdown day, a bad BPD episode and yeah, it was rough, but today I’m doing better and I realize nobody really cares about my personal issues lol but I just have a need to excuse myself here and I realize that’s kinda dumb but here we are ANYWAYS I hope these are okay, and that these are in no way the RIGHT interpretations, just my personal favorites!
Kyle:
suggested by the wonderful @otherluces <3
#1
I’m not gonna lie, I love nerdy, preppy Kyle. Sweater-vests, collard shirts, doesn’t realize how attractive he is Kyle, oblivious to people having crushes on him Kyle, set on Harvard to become a lawyer and fight for justice and argue for a living, yanno?
#2
I also really like the more dorky and nerdy Kyle, where he has really niché interests that he gets totally invested in and talks about 24/7, loves reading and studying, but not just to get good results, but because he genuinly enjoys it.
#3
The last version I can think of with him, is the tall, lanky and kinda hard to read Kyle. He keeps a lot of his feelings to himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. He plays basketball, he’s good at it too, and while he does well in school and everyone expects him to go into law, he has some totally different dream he keeps to himself for now. He kinda perks up a bit when in smaller crowds, esp with his cloest friends, but he still carries a lot of secrets that some time needs to come out.
Tweek:
suggested by my new fren @soft-craig-and-tweek ^^
I like Tweek in so many ways these were hard to pick, but I’mma try to narrow it down a bit and not go totally off haha
#1
I actually quite enjoy the jagged, tired Tweek, the one who with help from friends and family manage to get off the meth his parents feed him secretly, but who still struggle with withdrawal, dark bags under his eyes, kinda pale and with sharp features, but he’s still a sweet and kind boy, a boy who wants to make the right choices and change the world to a better place, but who still has a darkness he carries, and the fact that he never gives up that fight is what makes him so special
#2
and okay I have to be honest, I do love myself some sunshine boy Tweek. This Tweek still has issues, he is maybe even more anxious than the last one, but he’s also just as vibrant and energetic as he is anxious! He is an artist, he paints with bright colors, he composes beautiful, hopeful melodies, he feels everything so much, and he is a contagious and exciting person to be around. Cannot dress for the life of him. So much mis-match and odd outfits, but it kinda works?
#3
The last one I’m gonna mention for this wonderful boy, is the more alternative Tweek. He writes obscure poetry, he watches too many conspiracy theory videos on youtube, he draws the monsters in his mind, and he writes the scariest, most hauntingly beautiful stories on the internet, and people online love him. He has no idea how to deal with being popular in that sense, because irl he is the type to not belong to a certain friend group, but he does go along well with most people on a surface level. Dark circles, shaky hands, crooked and cute smiles, baggy t-shirts and ripped jeans. When he first opens up to someone, he really, really does, and he will always support and be there for you. If you deserve it, that is.
Nichole:
also suggested by @soft-craig-and-tweek <3
#1
I love nerdy Nichole who isn’t afraid to show it! Maybe she’s a streamer or youtube gamer even, I can def see her writing fanfiction, and being hella good at it too! Makes quite a name for herself online, and hangs out with the boys a lot irl, has game nights with the boys from Board Girls (even Cartman sometimes), is funny in a sarcastic way, but never mean.
#2
Popular girl Nichole is also a favorite for me, but not in the “classical” sense. I imagine her to be a sporty, maybe on both the basket and volleyball team, captain for the basket one, she’s a born leader, she’s kind and fair, but can also be strict, and people always trust her to be honest and true.
#3
Artsy Nichole!! I imagine her in bright yellow dresses and with her hair flowing and free, with flowers in her hair, freckles on her face, a big, genuine smile, a loud laughter that is so contagious, she loves spending time with Jimmy because they have a very similar humor, and she’s a theater kid, she sings like an angel and can act, oh boy can she act, she can make anyone laugh or cry in just a blink of an eye, she’s just a human sun-ray and I love her a lot
Butters:
suggested by @kinguidamundo, thank you so much!!
#1
I love edgy Butters soooo much??? Like, he’s still a kind and bright boy, but he can also stand up for himself a lot more, he likes fashion a lot, he gets tattoos and piercings, he explores tons of ways to express himself, he’s a yes-dude, he goes out on dates a lot, but isn’t ready for a “real” relationship yet, but he enjoys meeting people and testing out himself around different types of people! Also he is a bi icon change my mind jk u can’t
#2
I have a weak spot for the kind of soft and timid looking Butters too, who wears pastel colors and have big, innocent eyes, he is genuine and kind, but he carries something darker inside, something he isn’t sure how to deal with, something that scares him, but in reality it’s just normal feelings, anger, resentment and fear, but he’s lived his life ignoring them so much they catch him off guard at times. He learns to live with them slowly, and he does so with lots of help and patience from friends and loved ones.
#3
Okay, last one, totally self-indulging here, but yeah, happy sunflower boy is also a big favorite. He is more confident than the previous version, but in a gullible way if that makes any sense? He believes the best in people, and if he is proven wrong, he’s willing to try to help them become better people, if they want to or not! This is honestly the version I love most with Stan, Butters being the ray of sunshine in Stan’s life and Stan being the realism to keep Butters grounded and them both supporting each other so much? Fuck yeah that’s the good stuff.
Clyde:
suggested by @horrorpumpkin, ty sm friend! <3
#1
Himbo Clyde!!! Jock dude who genuinely loves sports, he’s a team player, and while he might not be super intellectual, he is very socially smart, he is kind and empathic, he is funny and likable, he always tries his best to make everyone feel included, and while he loves chicks a lot, and is a sexual dude, he does it with nothing but respect and admiration for the ladies!
#2
Bisexual disaster Clydeeee <3 obv being bi isn’t a personality trait, but he is very open about it, he wants to be confident and good at flirting, but goddamn is he a MESS! He’s also a huge supporter of every single relationship his friends is in, he loves love, in all shapes and forms, he is emotional and kind and awkward in an endearing way.
#3
Can’t leave out crybaby Clyde, can we now? He’s a bit of an awkward bean as well, but he owns it a bit more. He is kinda like a puppy, a cute, excitable and emotional puppy who loves his friends, video games and lazy movie nights, kinda chubby, he loves baking and does it a lot with Tweek, he is also a huge nerd for Harry Potter and totally geek out over it with Kyle and Nichole sdhlksgdhl
Kenny:
suggested by anon!
#1
First up I guess I should put my high school AU Kenny. I know it’s controversial, but I imagine this Kenny to be more on the quiet side, but not really in a shy way. He’s just a bit of an observer who doesn’t speak unless he really sees fit, and while he still has his crude humor and is kinda rumored to be sleeping around a lot, he actually struggle with intimacy issues. He never imagined them to include sexual stuff, but turns out they do, and balancing being sexually open and curious and having these issues ain’t easy on the boy, let me tell you that.
#2
This one is kinda heavily inspired by Luces, but I love him as kind and loyal, but also a bit more chatty and charming, but not for his own gain. He wants others to feel good about themselves, in social settings, his friends, during sexy times, he is selfless and good, but he is also living for the moment, he is a likable and wonderful guy, but he does still only REALLY open up emotionally to people he really trusts. Not traditionally attractive, but interesting looking in a way. Lots of freckles, bit of buck teeth with a big gap between his front teeth, messy kinda curly hair, long straight nose. Always wears baggy hoodies and worn out jeans, shrugs and gives that lopsided smile when people ask him about anything personal.
#3
Mysterious Kennyyyy. You think you know him, everyone does, but in reality, very few have seen the real him. He likes people, and he likes to help them, he’s always down to listen to people’s problems and help them, he wants to inspire kids like himself to never give up and think there’s only one path for them, because he knows there is not. Volunteers at the animal shelter with Stan, works part time at Tweek Bro’s and is good buddies with Tweek. Had a early sexual debut, slept around a bit and got his heart broken unexpectedly when he was a Freshman, so there are some walls there now, but he ain’t usually one to turn down someone who’s up for it and whom with he has good chemistry either.
#kyle broflovski#tweek tweak#nichole daniels#leopold butters stotch#butters stotch#clyde donovan#kenny mccormick#south park#south park headcanon#south park headcanons#sp#South Park tag#sp kenny#sp butters#sp clyde#sp nichole#sp tweek#sp kyle
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SUNLIGHT
Summary: Welcome to Mattina ed Estasi, an art gallery dedicated to show the art of seduction. This story is dedicated to the discover of true sex.
A/n: each day has a painting, please click on the link, likes and reblogged are love and if you come talk to me about it: I’ll love you forever. Please read end notes, it’s important
Find my masterlist HERE
Find the Pinterest page for this fic HERE
Somewhere in Italy, 1978…..
Day 1: Mattina ed Estasi https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Extasy/300907/4211239/view
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. It was hot, hotter than any other summer she has ever lived in her 25 years of life upon this earth. Her pink loose dress was sticking like glue because of the heat and she was late for her first day at the new job.
Fucking amazing, right?
The bus was late and then she got lost because she should have turned right but she took a left and her Italian isn’t amazing enough to understand what the old lady was trying to explain her, she was speaking too fast and Lav was far too nervous to concentrate.
But finally she saw the brick walls built in an elegant way. She saw the big stained glass with the mermaid. She had finally found Mattina ed Estasi, or “morning and ecstasy” in English. This is going to be her new job - new home- for at least the next 18 months (that was what the contract said, at least).
Having graduated just a year ago from the University of Coimbrã with a major in arts and communication, Lavignia found herself without a job and without the possibility of asking for her folks to help since they didn’t want her to go to college at all (she had one job and that was to marry well…. and that’s clearly not what she did).
But a friend of a friend told her one night about this gallery in Italy that needed someone to work there. This person had to speak English, to communicate with all of the tourist and had to know a lot about art.
Thank god she knew both.
Packing her bags, she dished her job at the bar and went to Italy on the morning train all the way from France. With all of her articles about art and the hope of a brand new start.
Taking a deep breath she walked through the doors, coming face to face with a tall red head: “you must be Vanessa! Mrs. Lovelace told me you would be here.
She was nervous, feeling short when standing side by side with this gorgeous woman. Her hair all messy from the wind and heat. But Vanessa, with a freckled face and very blue eyes, opened a smile and refused her hand shake, going for a hug.
“Hello, Lavignia. Yes, Mrs. Lovelace has told me all about you, she seemed excited, she loved your article about the art movements as protest against the military coups in Latin-America.”
“I’m glad. And please, call me Lav”
“Of course. Ready to begin our training?”
They started to walk around the gallery. An intimate space with golden artificial lights, a crew of men was working with all of the artwork for the new exposition: “Love and Sex”.
“What do you know about our new work? I just need to know everything you were told so I can help you with the rest”
“Well, I received a lot of books to study the theme on the last few days. Love and Sex is all about the the raw emotions of the human body, showing how much they are alike but also not so different. One complements the other but at the same time you can have sex without feeling in love, and you can fall in love and not have sex.” She could feel the embarrassment from talking so much about this subject with someone she barely knows but since it was about art becomes more acceptable.
“Yes. You are very correct. We are getting pieces from the renaissance era till the new paining by erotic artist Joan Semmel, our biggest conquest of this is actually her painting “Sunlight”, but Harry still has to bring that one”
“Nice. But who is Harry?”
“Oh, didn’t Mrs. Lovelace told you about the owners of the shop?”
Lavignia shook her head in a negative but said “only that she was one of them.”
“We have three owners. The first one is Jeannie Lovelace” the one who interviewed Lavignia just 5 days before. She was around her late sixties, beautiful long silver hair and blue eyes. Very elegant lady always using nice bell pants and white shirts. “Well, first, never call her Mrs. Lovelace to her face, she doesn’t like being treated like she is elite, even if she is. Some people say that on her younger days she had an affair with Duke Elligton, can you imagine?”
They laughed together, this beautiful old lady must have so much to tell if given the opportunity .
“Anyway, she was the founding mother of this beautiful gallery. She never got married so her true love is art. She founded this gallery back in 1961 with the money she inherited from her father company back in the U.S”.
“Nice. There is two others right?” She said while pointing to a board with the story of the gallery “This Harry you just told me about and Jesse right?”
“Yes. Let me start with the worse: Jesse Fire. Firstly, I’m pretty sure that’s not his real name. He’s this elite lawyer and a jackass with everyone he doesn’t find worthy of his time. He only puts money on this gallery because it’s a good investment and makes him have a “intelectual image” for the tabloids. Don’t worry too much about him but if he ever appears just try to not talk to him, and you’ll be fine. He is on holiday and won’t return for another three months. And he lives in Rome, so even when he’s in the country he comes here only for big openings and our parties. We are all safe.”
She opened a huge smile
“Now, let’s talk about the last one: Harry. Do you happen to know H.E Styles?”
“You mean the erotic poet and composer? The one people are always talking about his sexual escapades and charming ways”
“That one. Well… that’s Harry. I mean, we all know Harry made his money with art and he likes to spend his money with more art. Shocking, right? He has the biggest collection of sensual masterpieces. From paintings to sculptures and even vintage sex toys: he has it all. Actually this exhibition was his idea. The main pieces will have a poem by him attached to it.”
“And how many pieces are we hoping for?”
“Around 10. He’s going to write new poems for the main events, inspired by a few of the art pieces and will release a book at the end of everything. And that’s the reason why we still don’t have the painting by Semmel. He is struggling with that one and took home last Friday and promised to bring here today.
“And it’s not here today” said a raspy slow voice from the back door. He was using a blue chiffon shirt almost completely unbuttoned with a pair of high waisted white jeans and a glittery boot, with heels that gave him at least 3 inches more. “I am so glad to see my favorite red hair today. It was a tuff weekend”
He got closer and she could finally see his face: green eyes, beautiful wavy brown hair and a nice crooked smile with dimples just to make it more adorable. And he had a mustache. Lav absolutely hates mustaches, but if it’s this handsome fellow that has one…. she wouldn’t complain.
“What happened? Couldn’t find inspiration again?” Vanessa said while touching his arm. Of course a guy that hot would go for a girl like Nessa. They looked like a power couple together.
“First I thought I could get inspiration if I could just stare at the painting. But it didn’t work so I called Daniel and Melissa, maybe with a fun three way party I could feel inspired, wrong. Then yesterday, I thought “maybe I need to see the world with different eyes” so I popped a few acid tablets… didn’t work. So now I’m here, on a Monday morning, asking you PLEASE let me have the painting for a few more days”
It was too much information for Lav to take, in three days he had done more than she has done her whole life. That made her feel quite uneasy.
“That depends, Styles… will you borrow your beach house for the summer so I can have my honeymoon with Cathy there?”
Oh, she has a fiancée, thought Lavignia, how silly could she be, thinking they were a couple.
“I was already going to offer you this and you know it. But of course, my Calihouse is yours for the time you want it for your honeymoon” he finally locked eyes with the brunette who was feeling like an outsider listening to private conversation: “and who is this Dove? Is she the new curator you and Lovelace were talking about?”
“Yes, Lavignia this is Harry. Harry this is Lavignia”
She gave him an awkward smile.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles”
She raised her hand to shook his that was already reaching out for her. But, instead of a shake, he took her hand and before giving a kiss he whispered to her hand “please, call me Harry.” He kissed her hand and let her hand go, using the tips of his fingers to caress her arm on the way down from its previous position.
“She is actually going to create the sequence for the pieces and the artistic and historical explanation of the pieces from the the exhibition”.
“I thought I was going to write this”
“Yeah but she has the technical knowledge. So you are going to look at the art, find a meaning behind and she is going to write the explanation for the techniques and whatsoever and to the presentationwould be interesting if you guys worked together”
That’s when it hit Lavignia: they had 6 days till the opening and absolutely zero idea of what they were going to produce.
“Wait….. we have six days to plan this whole thing?”
Harry laughed.
“Yes, we have done a lot but still, we have a lot do. Right now the focus is to create a storyline to exhibit everything and it has to go well with the main theme. Welcome to our gallery” he said with a smile. “But I’m sure it’s going to be an easy job. Because love and sex are so inherent to the human being”
That wasn’t going to be an easy job. She didn’t know much about love or sex.
.
After their conversation, the day was just a blurry memory: checking the pieces, looking for articles and references about each one. Harry would once in a while come and check on Lav, ask her if she wanted anything and sometimes he would just look at her, like he was trying to memorize her face.
It was already 7 pm and Lav and Nessa were getting their stuff to leave when Harry came up to talk to them:
“Girls, Lovelace just called the office and asked if we want to have dinner at her place. I’m going, care to join?”
“I can’t, have to meet Cathy. We have a dinner date to try and finally find a date that is good to get married” said Nessa “but I think it would be good for Lav so she can get a feel about how we work”
“I can give you a ride if you want” Harry offered with a sweet smile, putting both of his hands on the reception table and getting closer to her face.
“Uh, sure. Let me just get the rest of my stuff”
“Sure, I’m waiting outside”
Vanessa was looking down at her with cheeky eyes and knowing smile: “you are going to have the best fuck of your life” Lav eyes grew wide “oh me and my fiancée once had a threesome with Harry. A one time thing but didn’t he gave us the ride of our lives”
“There will be no fu… mingling with the boss for me. Thank you very much” Lavignia said while getting the rest of her stuff and walking away with heavy steps and wide angry eyes. She was already out of the door but she could still listen to Vanessa’s laughter.
She started looking for a nice and extravagant car but what she found was Harry leaning on a very red Harley Davidson. Picking at his nails, tearing off the nail polish in the process.
“Hey. Ready?” She was shaking she had never walked on a motorcycle.
“Kinda. Never been on a motorcycle before”
“What a pleasure to be the your first ride then” Harry said giving her a blinking eye and a mischievous smile. “First let’s put this thing on you” he got closer to her with a blue helmet with silver stars in hand.
First he caressed her messy curls and then slided the helmet on her head, never taking his green eyes off of her: “you look perfect with this on, like you belonged on a fast ride, just like this ride I’m going to give you”
She didn’t know how to answer that, she could just blush.
“Let’s go?” Nodding with her hand and getting onto the bike with Harry, Lavignia had this nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach: it burned. Every single time he turned a left she would end up brushing her front against his back that was covered by the thin blue shirt. She never felt this spark before, almost like something in her body was screaming for the feel of him. Maybe was the fact they spent the day in the middle of sensual pieces of arts, maybe was the fact that the smell of vanilla on his neck made her think of sex.
And she never thought of sex, never understanding what was the appeal to showcase something it was supposed to be so intimate, and he didn’t have any filter when it comes to it. Maybe the almost 4 years without someone between her legs have finally got her and she was going crazy.
After it felt like an eternity in a war with her own thoughts, they came to a stop on a small circle park with 5 houses surrounding the area . All of them were big and out of a art decor movie. They came to a stop in front of one of the houses: this one was yellow with high walls and a lot of plants all over the entrance.
“This is Jeannie Lovelace house. My house is the other one on the other side of the park” Harry finally said, without taking his helmet off, pointing towards a house with a bright orange tone to it with rounded windows and a balcony that was exposed for the street, full red roses. “She is already expecting us, you can go inside, I’m just gonna drop my bike at my house. Do you live close?”
“No, I live close to the beach, close to that souvenir shop, you know? It’s about 30 bus stops from the gallery.”
“You can stay at my place, if you want” he said in a normal tone but a sparkle was found inside his eyes, maybe she wasn’t the only one that was left shook from their little trip standing so close together.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea” she could admire him, but she couldn't touch. She only knew him for a few hours but she knew it was trouble. And maybe her tone was quite condescending because Harry changed his posture and stopped smiling and just pronounced a small and guilty “okay” before driving towards his house, acting almost like he was feeling shameful. Before Knocking on the door there was only one thing in her mind: this was going to be an extressfull dinner.
.
Day 2: Woman with the black stockings
(Painting they talk about: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ac/Schiele_-_Frau_mit_schwarzen_Strümpfen_-_1913.jpg )
“Darling, wake up” she could feel Jeannie elegant voice talking quietly “it’s almost 9, if you want to be on time to your meeting with Harry, you have to wake up now”
Meeting? When did she and Harry settled a meeting hour? Lav’s last memory was from getting another glass of the green drink because she was quite overwhelmed with the conversation topics. She didn’t even knew there was so much it could be talked about sex.
“Sorry” she said getting up “my head is killing me. Thank you for letting me crash here, I don’t even remember how I made it to this bed” she looked around, being in a big room with with walls and drawing of flowers all over it, Lovelace was standing right next to her holding a plate full of food.
“Oh, darling there is nothing to be sorry for. You should thank Harry, he was the one who carried you over here” she said while settling the plate on her lap “but a little piece of advice? When it comes to absint you don’t drink more than 3 shots, now eat. Do you remember what we talked about last night?”
Oh God, she didn’t want to hear all of that AGAIN but she had to be honest: “after my third glass my mind is just a blackout. I’m so embarrassed”she said while getting the beautiful croissant and taking a bite of it and it was so good “You only know me for two days, you are my BOSS and I made a complete fool of myself”
“Again: nothing to be sorry for, everybody in the gallery is like family to me. Not counting Jesse, he is just someone that gives us money…. think of him like the awful uncle that everybody has to deal with” laughing at her own joke “We just talked about the opening then me and Harry stared to exchange stories… that was when you started to drink a little too much.”
“I just… I hope this doesn’t get me fired but, you all just treat sex like it isn’t an act it should be kept in your bed and I got nervous yesterday with the topics of the conversation once we stopped talking business and especially Harry I mean…. I met him when he was talking about a menage he had in search for inspiration to write about an art piece” She said with open eyes and exasperated sigh
“Lavignia, sweetie, you know that this gallery is about sex right? We showcase pieces with a sensual and sexual background. Also we hold parties, books reading, music. Look at the name we gave it: MORNING AND EXTASE”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry Mrs. Lovelace, when we talked you only told me about this exposee we are doing and I thought that was it. I know that sensuality and art are two themes that often come together but ….”
“There is no problem, Lavignia” she said in a more serious tone, yeah, Lav was out of a job only on her second day, she was sure of it. “Look, I was so ecstatic to have someone with your resume that I only talked about what we are working on right now. Can I ask you something? Give us a chance, please? Especially Harry, he is a sweet guy who lives and feels everything, he gives himself whole in everything: art, friendship, love, sex. I wish I could have met someone like him when I was younger, I would be married, maybe.” She said with a sweet smile “When we are over with the planning of this, if you wish, you can let us go. But try and immerse yourself with us, there is more to the world than ‘waking up, growing old and dying’. If at the end of this you don’t wanna stay, I will find you a job at the most traditional art gallery. But, give us a chance, there is something behind your eyes that longs for something, I can see it, let us show you there is no shame in living.”
Looking at her hands, Laviginia thought about how she was never satisfied, leaving her parents home when they wanted her to get married to their neighbor, going to college in another country, then going to Paris to find a job and failing and now having this big opportunity in her hands: she couldn’t say no; so she nodded and got a big hug from the elegant old lady.
“Now, I asked Harry to get you a few clothes ‘cause I figured you wouldn’t want to be another entire day with the same ones. He is already here with the clothes I’m going to get it for you. Take a shower. We’ll be waiting for you in the living room” Jeannie said getting up from her sitting down position in bed but before she could reached the door she turned to Lav and said “and another thing: don’t ever call me Mrs again, either Jeannie or Lovelace. Okay?” and with that she left the room and Lav went to shower, knowing she had a chance in her hands and the only person who could mess this chance up.
.
After taking her shower Lavignia came back to the room to find not only clothes but shoes and underwear and even a perfume, on top there was a note:
Lovelace would not forgive me if I got you clothes and didn’t bought you a perfume. According to her a woman is naked without a scent. I hope I got the sizing right.
H.
PS: I would love to see you wearing the lingerie, this one was all Jeannie.
Of course he would said something like that. The clothes consisted of a black mini dress with red little hearts and a high turtleneck, together with black boots and a thigh high black stockings. The lingerie was pretty, a set with a bright cherry color made of lace and satin. She loved looking at the mirror using such a beautiful piece, there was something about her she didn’t knew it could be achievable: she looked quite sensual. She felt like she was Twiggy herself (even if she didn’t look at all like Twiggy).
Last but not least: the perfume. It was Paris by YSL and it smelled like richness and sex. Of course he wouldn’t give any less than something like this. But she couldn’t lie, she was grateful for him, Lav knew she was quite harsh to him just the night before with her judgmental looks and words, but even then he got out of this way to help someone he only knew for 24 hours.
Getting down the stairs she could ear the light tone of their conversation, something about “opening yourself for love”, it seems like Lav was not the only one that was getting a preach from the one and only Jeannie Lovelace.
With the sound of her footsteps getting closer, Harry turned around and smiled: “glad I got the sizing right. You look nice.” He was getting up and so was Jeannie
“I’m going to give you guys a ride and then I’m picking Nessa up, we are going to the train station”
“I thought we all were working together today” Harry said while walking side by side with both women toward the backdoor that lead to the garage. Jeannie gave them both a big smile:
“Early this morning I got the news: We got the Corregio” in that moment Harry lifted Jeannie up and started to kiss her cheeks while saying “I knew you could do it”.
Antonio da Corregio was an painter from the italian renaissance, being able to get one of his pieces to put on display outside from its home museum in Viena was almost impossible . Lav was looking at the interaction and saw it for the first time: Lovelace saw Harry like a son. They were a little happy family. What she didn’t expect was Harry to put Jeannie down and take her into his arms, giving a big hug and involving her in his smell all over again.
“Now, let’s go kids. You two have to analyse the Schiele piece and me and Vanessa have a date with Corregio”. And so they left in a very lilac mercedes.
.
Laviginia couldn’t stop sweating, she was standing side by side with Harry in front of a big painting of a woman sitting down, pushing her skirt up so she could show all of her private parts. With very red lips and nipples and black stockings, very similar to the ones Harry got her, and from his face, she was sure it was not a mere coincidence.
“What do you think we should do with this one?” Harry asked
“I think every piece of art tells a story and we have to discuss about this piece, what story does it tells us” Lav said getting away from the painting and closer to the books she had spread all over the table, looking for her bookmarks about Egon Shiele and any piece of information about his painting The woman with black stockings. She looked over at Harry and he looked relaxed with his with long sleeve shirt full of drawings on the sleeves and blue jeans. He was calm while waiting for her to tell him about whatever piece of information she found on the books. Her mind was going crazy, she was sweating through all of her pores, there was the same unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach and there was Harry, changing his attention between her and the naked woman like they were talking about the weather. Finally she found the information she was looking for in one of the many bookmarks she made “This dates back to 1913, he got arrested countless time because of his art…”
“It’s ridiculous being arrested for making his art, especially one so intimate but I understand the time but so be it, I hate it when people make sex such a taboo. But please, continue with what you were telling me”
Cleaning her throat, she continued “according to this the reason behinds his arrests were his nude and semi-nude portrayals of his lovers. It also says those portrayls are so beguiling is quite simple: they have a filth quality to it. He likes to portrait his adoration towards woman and sex”
“Wow, that’s probably the most of dirty talk you have ever made in your life, I’m proud you got to reading all of this only blushing a bit” he looked at her with kind eyes and a smirk gracing his beautiful rosé lips “Okay, he wants to show devotion and rawness to it, right? There is this gorgeous woman spread open for him, longing for him as I hope he was longing to get between her legs and get so deep they don’t know when one ends and the other begins. I think that the theme of this is want, is the disinhibition, not being ashamed of wanting something that is so good” Lav felt like he was talking about her and not the painting “He has a dirty mind freakness, doesn’t only show people what he is seeing, he shows us his desire and let us get into his intimate for one reason: he painted his lovers, people he knew from inside out, people who must have some meaning to him. The fact that he can put together adoration and the most primal act of the human race, takes his art from merely beautiful to widely erotic”
“What does it feel like?” she asked him “being able to see and feel and talk about this without feeling like it’s wrong? Being able to let yourself go”
Harry looked at her and she had no idea what his face was telling her. He was sitting on the floor and pated the place in front of him in a silence request for her to join him. She sat in front of him, folding her legs and looking him in the eye
“I always felt like there was more to life than the one I was leading on, you know? My family came from money, but everything just felt the same, so one day, as soon as I turned 18, I went to Los Angeles, that was 10 years ago, ending of the 60s and beginning of the 70s, David Bowie was still becoming what he is now, Beatles had just broken up Fleetwood Mac didn’t have Stevie Nicks. There I met people who showed me more and more of living and then I started writing, becoming myself. It was with my art that made my own money and got kind of famous but I never actually showed my face to magazines till I came to Italy when I heard that the gallery wasn’t doing very well, offered to help and I gained a second mother in Lovelace, she was there for me all the time and she was the first one to tell me that I didn’t have to be ashamed of who I was, if I like a bit of everything or if I dress quite flamboyant or anything.” Harry smiled “ That’s what she wants for everybody: have a fulfilling life like hers, without any fears. It’s all a learning you know, one day at the time, you get there.” Harry took her hand and gave it a kiss “tomorrow we’ll all be together to look at the Corregio, you can talk about whatever you are feeling, I promise you: no one is going to judge you.”
“You know it would be nice to just be able to talk about this without feeling like I’m going to hell and I don’t even believe there is a hell.”
“If hell is full of people who don’t care about labels and know how to have fun… I don’t wanna go to heaven “ Harry smiled “but you know, I’m a GREAT teacher, I would love to teach you how to be less awkward when it comes to the theme, after all you are working for a gallery about sex”
“I’m not having sex with you”
“God, Lav, don’t be such a pervert, I was talking about being less shy when it comes to talking about it. Come on repeat with me ‘fuck me’ without blushing”
“Fuck me”
“No, fuck me”
“Fuck me”
“No”
“Fuck me”
“Finally! That’s my girl.” Harry said giving a peck to her nose. “Now, how about we go eat a nice gelato, my treat. Then we can come back to talk about the painting”
.
Day 3: Jupiter and Aphrodite
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg
“I crave your mouth, you voice, your hair/ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets/ Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day/ I hunt for the the liquid measure of your steps” the words from the poem left Harry’s mouth like honey. When they both arrived early to the gallery, Harry sat on the floor with a poetry book and asked if she wanted him to read for him. “I hunger for you sleek laugh/ your hands the color of savage harvest/ hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails/ I want to eat your skin like a whole almond”
When Harry said that sentence he stopped briefly and looked at Lavignia, wanting to see her reaction. He didn’t choose that poem with no intend, he wanted her to see how sexuality and love could be show on poem, with such a easy passion, no shame. She was looking right at the pearls he was wearing around his neck, thinking he didn’t noticed the way she was staring at his chest and necklace, he licked his lips and continued: “I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body/ the sovereign of your arrogant face/ I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes.
The more Harry read, the more Lavignia was imagining he was doing all the the things quoted, adoring her body with such hunger, she was thanking God that he was close to finish his reading: “And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight/ Haunting for you, for your hot heart/ Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue” He closed the book and looked at her:” so, that was the Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda, what do you think of it?”
“It’s beautiful”
“Only beautiful? What do you feel when you listen to those words. Erotism can also come in form of beautiful words, to show those feelings and to have them returned are a bliss, if is a one night or a lifetime.”
She wanted to be like him, like everybody she met during those 3 days, so she trying to raise her voice and finally say something:
“I feel hunger. Hunger for life. I don’t want to feel like it’s wrong to desire someone”
Harry got closer to her, almost touching their knees together. The moment he walked through the door last monday he was captivated by the girl wearing the cherry tree print dress. He couldn't stop watching her every movement, how she would stare at each art piece with a passion observation yet timid eyes, how she would like at him like he was from mars, she had so much inside of her screaming to break out of the coffins of her mind and heart, and Lovelace made him promise he would help her, she saw so much of her in Lavignia.
“Would you like to try and live the life you always longed for?” he asked her.”You will never be judged here, that is a promise I make you, in the name of everybody”
She was hypnotized by his eyes and the thought of finally exploring whatever she felt since she was younger and everybody always told her how wrong it was: this hunger. Ever since she read the Betty Friedan book “The feminine mystique” and was shocked to find out that women also could find pleasure in sex just like men. Never having the courage but each day inside the gallery she could feel the same insistent pit in her stomach always asking for more” So she just nodded and Harry got even closer, so close she could see the blue and golden inside his eyes and could hear his breathing and smell the mint in his breath.
This guy that just this weekend was having threesomes was going to kiss her shamelessly inside their workplace. And she was going to let him.
“Good Morning darlings” said the elegant voice of Jeannie coming from the front door “I’m a little bit late but I got fresh macarons from the french bakery close to Nessa’s place. She is just parking the … oh” Finally looking at the young couple on the floor so close that it was unmistakable that they were about to kiss when the owner of the gallery busted through the door “well…. young passion, always a good feeling when you just can’t wait till you can get home and enjoy each other but please do whatever you were going to do away from the art pieces, we wouldn’t want another incident like the party we threw back in 75”
Harry gave Jeannie a cheeky smile while the only thing Lavignia could feel was shame, absolut and complete shame. Opening her mouth to defend the situation she found herself in:
“But we weren’t going to…”
“Lavignia you know I’m the biggest and most precious work of art from our little gallery” Harry said at the same time she was trying to come up with any excuse, looking at her while getting up and offering his hand.
“Oh Harry if I was 30 years younger you wouldn’t scape me” Jeannie answered. Today she was using a elegant bright red dress and a scarf around her head and by the smile on her face, Lav understood what they were trying to do: they wanted her to feel comfortable so they were joking to show her there was no problem in whatever they were doing.
“Now, enough talking we have two pieces to figure it out today and Harry where the fuck is the Semmel?” Lovelace said taking her heels off and started to walk around, checking everything they had already done. There was still 3 pieces for them to figure out how they would showcase.
.
They were all sitting on the bench Harry dragged to the middle of the room, with watchful eyes resting on Lavignia that was right in the middle of two art pieces. They all were waiting for her to begin her explanation:
“So, if you look at my right, we have the famous Correggio painting: Jupiter and Io, dated back 1530. So, we all know the Romans saw Jupiter as the equivalent of the Greek god Zeus. According to the tale, he was attracted to everything that was beautiful, especially Io, she was one of Hera’s priestess. Jupiter was always tempted by others beauty and would disguise himself to be closer to them. In the case of the Correggio” she said posting towards the bluish god that was encasing the woman in a sensual way “he took the form of a velvet fog to reach for Io” pointing through naked woman encased by the fog, she took a break, waiting to see if they wanted to add something but Jeannie just gave her a small smile, telling her to continue: “it’s from the Italian renaissance, as we all know and the technique is oil on canvas, it’s height is around 5’4 and is has been in the Austria museum since the XVI century”
Harry raised his hand not wanting to disrupt her talking, he was quite fond of the way she lost all of her shyness and insecurities when it comes to art. When she was done she looked at Harry when he raised from his sitting position to get closer to the painting:
“If we look next to her face, we can see a face form itself on the fog, that’s Jupiter, right? He is there taking her pleasure as his own and giving his pleasure to her as her own. It’s a mutual feeling, she isn’t dreaming about the fog, he is there. This is such an erotic turn, showing us this woman being involved with this fog, her face looks like she was being pleasured. It’s about the feeling of letting go, she was letting herself being encased by this fog, encased by desire” turning his face to the redhead sitting close to Lovelace he asked “what do you think, Nessa?”
Crossing her long legs that were covered by a letter flared jumpsuit she stayed quiet, taking the pairing calmly.
“I think I wanna hear about the Aphrodite before making a decision”
Harry pinched Lavignia cheeks lightly as if saying: come on, we are waiting.
Lavignia was looking at the piece. The three naked woman with no shame, laying together on top of the blue satin sheets: one was laying down with her hands above her head, the other was on her fours atop of the laying girl and the third was encasing the the same girl that has her eyes closed in delight. It was clear that she was the one they were intending to adore, she was Aphrodite.
“Aphrodite is one of the famous goodness, she is the goodness of love and beauty, she was responsible for the perpetuation of life, pleasure and joy…” Lav lost her train of thoughts the moment she looked at Harry.
He looked calm, standing so next to her, listening so attentive, as if every word that came from her mouth was precious to the subject. His eyes were extremely green thanks to the green and blue crochet vest he was wearing together with a high waisted jeans but everytime he raised his arms she could see a bit of his soft belly and what it seemed to be a butterfly tattoo.
“Earth to Lavignia?” said the fant voice of Jeannie. Shaking her head a muttering a small ‘sorry’, she continued:
“Anyway, this illustration on paper was made for the Pierre Louys’s book, the artist is Maurice Ray, we don’t know the date but it’s from the 19th century, so it’s nearly not as old as the Correggio, so if we want to sort by date: we can’t. They are too far apart. We have to find the common ground beside both being created after myth. But we don’t have much on the creator of the illustration to help us built the story. It could be helpful”
“You know” Harry started “it’s good when people don’t know the life of an artist. I mean, I don’t want people to read my poetry and think what inspired me. Like my “cherry” poem, and think “it’s about his last girlfriend who left his heart broken’, I want people to look at my art and take it as their own. The moment I give it to the world, it’s not mine anymore. Each person has their own claim for the piece, their own meaning, their own story. I look at those pieces and I don’t wanna know if the woman in Correggio was the one that got away, I wanna look and see what this makes me feel, how this tells me a story”
Harry had a girlfriend who broke his heart? Does he always write from his own perspective? Where can she find one of his poems? She wants to know more about the boy who seemed to never look anything but a full rainbow with his colours and happiness.
“So, we only have now to work with Sunlight to finish the preparations for the grant opening. Nessa is everything okay with the catering?”
“Yes, I spoke to the cantina owner, you know, Angelo. He invited us to have dinner there today, so we can try everything he wants to bring” then opening her purse and getting a red notebook “I think we have everything covered: food, drinks, journalist to come, photographers, invitations has been send. I think the only thing lacking is the Sunlight… Harry, where the fuck is the Sunlight?”
His eyes opened and he looked a little bit frightened at Vanessa: “shit, Nessa, don’t pull those eyes on me, I always get scared. I promise: it will be here, okay?” nervously he looked at both Jeannie and Vanessa, and then at Lavignia, in a suplic for a little help.
“What time should we be at the cantina?” she changed the subject
“In a few hours, it’s only 2 pm now, maybe at 6, the music is going to start at 6 but we know nothing actually works on time here”
“Okay, so maybe let’s just revise everything? And maybe finally find the order we want to exhibit everything? Lav, do you have any idea?”
“I can only think the cliche: year and technique”
“We have been here for the last four hours searching, reading, talking about those paintings. Can we do it tomorrow” Asked Nessa, raising her arms to stretch.
“Sure, how about you two go and write all that has been discussed today while me and Harry talk business in the office upstairs?” Lovelace said, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the stairs that stood almost in a hidden part of the gallery.
When they were long gone, Vanessa questioned if she knew that they weren’t going talk business and when she didn’t respond, she continued:
“Harry ex-girlfriend cheated on him and then left with some french preppy guy saying he wasn’t the one because she could never deal with his ways. This was almost a year ago, he was pretty depressed, to be honest, cried a lot, never wanted to sleep alone”
“Does he ever want to sleep alone?”
“You know, you are fast to judge people, when I think you are opening up to us... “ she stopped to get one of the posters for the gallery and pointed towards the front exit, needing help to put the poster in its place.
When Lavignia thought she wasn’t going to hear anymore of that, she finally continued the talk: “he hates being alone. He practically moved to Lovelace’s house for the first month, was always listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, crying. Actually, I think during those first three months he only took one person to bed and he cried during it. He started to get better when he wrote his book, travelled all around Asia, he vanished for maybe 45 days. When he got back, he was him again. Maybe a better version of himself”
“Why are you telling me all of this, you don’t even know if I’m going to stay at the gallery or I’m gonna take the other job”
“You know… I can see in your eyes, the sparkle when you talk about those pieces, when you let yourself go. But then, it's like something turns it on in your brain, almost like it’s short circuiting, and then… you stop, you blush and you give us judgmental stares”
“You know, I can’t help it”
“I know” Nessa said with a faint smile “but we can help you”
.
They were all laughing over bottles of chardonnay and pasta, Lovelace was in the middle of telling one of her many stories about the roaring 30 and all that she done back in New York. They got there half an hour ago, the music crew were beginning to put all the instruments over the small stage. The cantina was only two blocs from the gallery. They were sitting outside, in a round table with red and white tablecloth, with fairy lights to illuminate the place, trees that gave the place a certain fairy look.
When they arrived, there was a petite black woman with a sundress and braids on her hair, she recognized to be Nessa’s fiance, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember her name, no matter how much she tried.
When they sat, she was in the middle of Jeannie and Harry. She could feel his arms brushing her back every time he talked.
“Guarda se non sei la donna più bella di tutto il nord italia” said a tall man, he must be around his sixties. Very blue eyes, gray hair and charming smile. He had honeyd voice, and man, she really needs to improve her Italian if she wants to stay.
“Quindi mi ci abituo, Angelo. E come sempre: il cibo è delizioso.”
They continued to talk for a bit, Lavignia ended up losing the conversation, looking at the small stage, that now had a singer, maybe she was finally going to be introduced to some good italian song besides Volare.
“Perdona la mia mancanza di istruzione” he looked at Lav “sei nueva qui, guisto? La tua nuova ragazza, Harry? Che bella”
“Nei miel più grandi sogni, forse” God, Harry’s voice sounded even more charming in italian “Lavignia è il nuovo impiegato della galleria. Ma penso she dovremmo parlare in inglese”
“I am so sorry, my dearest” he said with a very strong accent “ I didn’t knew you didn’t speak Italian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Angelino and welcome to my humble restaurant”
“Thank you so much. I know a bit of Italian, but it’s the language I speak the least and with all the noise and people talking at the same time, it gets hard to understand”
In that moment, the song beguin to play “Our music guess is starting now, if you excuse me… Jeannie, mi concede questo ballo?” taking her hand he lead her to the dancefloor, followed by Nessa and Cathy, who she finally remembered the name.
“And then they were two” Harry whispered turning to her
She took another bite of the pasta containing a moan while Harry finished his glass, getting another bottle and pouring for both of them”
“It was my bad Italian or Jeannie and Mr. Charming over there were flirting?” Harry smirked with her statement:
“You are absolutely, right. They flirt all the fucking time. It’s cute but sometimes I just want to push them towards a bedroom with a very big bed and say they can only leave after they fucked their brains out”
The more they talked, the more Harry got closer. He asked about her life before Italy and she asked about his book. She told about how she was trapped with her parents even after she graduated, so she left. He told her about his traveling through Asia, the people he met, how he went to a David Bowie show in Japan, that each city he visited brought him back to himself.
“You know, maybe...can I buy one of your books?” she asked, with a timid glint all over her eyes “I just want to know what type of art you write”
“Oh, my poetry is all about having sex and feeling sad”
“Well, I still want to. I might blush a lot and maybe won’t be able to look you in the eyes on the first few days, but then I’ll get over it”
“How about this, you dance with me and tomorrow I give you my book to read. Deal”
“Deal” shaking hands then getting up towards the dancefloor.
Putting both of his hands on her hips, Harry got closer. They could listen to the calming voice of the singer. Softly singin the chorus of the song, with his mouth close to her ear.
Lavignia could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body, almost like he was encasing her in a protection spell from the wind.
“You seem to know the words to the song. Who is this guy?”
“Oh, he is Pino Daniele, right now he only performs at small bars, weddings. But all of his songs are so good, give him a few years and I’m sure he’ll be big, at least here in Italy. That’s for sure”
After that they were quiet for a moment, she was trying to catch the words to the song. Feeling distracted by the environment they had: fairy lights, the jazz with a popish sound to it, people dancing without a care, everything so colorful. The heat of the summer night was disguised because of the slightly cold wind that came from being close to the beach. Harry cleaned his throat to get her attention:
“I need your help. The Joan Semmel painting is so hard for me to decipher and I think I know why, she painted from such a tender female point of view. And I know I could ask anyone to help me, but I love how in love with art you are. How you lose yourself describing and talking about the pieces”
“Okay, I can help. But are you sure Jeannie and Nessa won’t be mad?”
“I already talked to Jeannie and Nessa a little bit before we had to leave the gallery, actually” the slower song came to an end but they couldn’t let each other go. There was comfort in this embrace and light conversation. Almost like they had done this a thousand times before.
“You could come by my place tomorrow. We can fix this, maybe I can read some of my poems, since you’re so curious”
“Sure, what time?”
“Around lunch? There is no hurry since it’s close to eight and I don’t think we’ll be going home anytime soon”
She had a night full of dancing and wine ahead of her. She could only wonder what would happen tomorrow when the sun came out.
Day 4: Office Love https://www.phillips.com/detail/A/NY040210/233
The sky was cloudy when Lavignia knocked on the mahogany door. The house from the outside was already beautiful, with vines all over the place, the orange color of the wall and big door.
“Hey” Harry said while opening the door, dressed in just a satin robe “I was drawing, I lost track of time. Would you like to come in?”
The door lead her to his living room, there was a big hello round couch, with red walls and a Indian tapestry. The red walls were full of art pieces - all of them pretty much leaning on the sensual side - the three ceiling to floor windows gave a beautiful view of the street and grey sky.
“Feel like you’re at your own home, okay? Please put your shoes over there” he said pointing towards a small cabinet “I’m just going to put on some clothes and I’m be back”
With Harry upstairs, she was left alone to wander through the living room. There were magazines and vinyls all over the place as well as books about a few of the artists they were going to exhibit. He was doing his homework, apparently.
But then something got hold of her attention: it was a black and white photograph. It seemed like it was an office, a typical American one. With two big windows and a rectangular desk but there, laying at the same desk, there was a barely dressed woman with her breast out and a man -completely dressed- devouring the woman’s chest.
“Do you like the work of Helmut Newton?” She heard Harry’s voice just behind her, when she turned around there he was with a graphic white t shirt full of little watermelons drawings and jeans shorts.
“You scared me, you walked down the stairs really quiet”
“I wasn’t quiet, you were just really paying attention to the photograph. So do you like Helmuts job?”
“I never heard of him ‘till today”
“Well… he is a German photographer and is known for his studies of the female body. He worked a lot with Yves Saint Laurent and that was actually how I met him, I loved his fashions editorials of the brand. Then when I was at the fine arts museum in Boston last year, I saw this photograph. He was touring with his new exhibition when I bought this one. But it only arrived last month, when the tour was done”
He was side by side with her, looking at the piece for a few seconds before continuing his explanation: “the name of this photograph is Office Love. When I had the chance to talk to him he said he wanted his photographs to arouse. And they do, because he so boldly explores his longings. But, in my personal opinion, what makes his art so sexy is his obvious belief that sex in the most important thing in the world” he looked at Lavignia “so, what do you think?”
She looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth.
“You don’t have to say anything to me, okay? But think about this painting when you’re alone. I lost the count of how many times I sat on this same couch looking at her and imaging it was me on the picture. Especially this week” did he said what she thinks he said? “Anyway, would you like to eat something before we start? I brought my book with me, thought we could eat a peanut butter sandwich and I’ll read something”. When she nodded, Harry took her hand and lead her towards the kitchen.
.
His kitchen was all black and white: black and white tiled floor, black electrical appliance with white walls. Black table with white chairs.
He made the sandwiches and got them a glass full of water. When they were halfway done, he got one his book and asked what type of poem she would like to hear.
“Anything. Just want to get to know your art”
“I’ll just open randomly then…” and when he did, his smile flared a little bit, maybe this poem represents a sad moment in his life. When she was close to telling him that there was no need for him to read if it hurted him, he cleared his throat and said: “this is The cherry sonet”
Along with the cherry trees came hopeless sorrow
The cherry color reminds me that I’ll still hurt tomorrow
Dreams of you erupted in my waking
My broken heart is still yours for the taking
When you met him, did he called you ‘cherriè’?
When you kissed him, did you remembered me?
And when you left me
Did you feel like you were finally free?
But don’t you call him baby
Don’t you dare
To call him what you used to call me
But don’t you call him baby
Don’t you dare
To call him what you used to call him
She felt tears in her eyes, that was the first time he was avoiding looking at her. Closing the book he gave her and whispered “it’s yours. Take care of it”
“Harry, I’m so sorry. No one deserves to feel this heartbreak”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t miss her, I don’t even love her anymore. But every time I remember what she done to me and how much pain I went through my hearts remembers the heartbreak.”
“I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it, but, who was she?”
“Her name doesn’t matter. She lived here for a while, I fell in love so deeply, I don’t think I was ever in love before her. It was like the world gained color and I didn’t have to be so lonely, anymore. I was still trying to figure it out where I stood in the world, and for that to work out, I tried to be the perfect match for her. I think i lost a bit of me when I lost her. But that was never truly me, you know” he paused to drink some water “ She didn’t like how I treated matters of privacy. She didn’t like the theme of the gallery and she didn’t like Lovelace either. Said she was a bad influence. So to prove her I could work with other themes, I made this work with a French gallery owner. She cheated on me with him.”
“Harry… I don’t know what to say to you. I never fell in love and don’t even remember liking someone that liked me back, you know? I don’t know much about you, but I can see that you’re good and you don’t deserve any of that”
He got her hand that was over the table and took in his. Not saying anything but it was like their conversation was happening without needing any words.
“I think we need to work on the Semmel. Do you want me to bring here or would you mind if we go to my music room. I left it there”
.
The music room consists of a place full of music instruments, more vinyls and more books. With pillows and tapestry all over the floor, there was no couch or chair. If you wanted to sit, you had to sit on the floor. On the far left of the room there was a painting with a purple bed sheet covering everything.
“Ready?” He pulled the sheet and she was left marvelous.
Joan Semmel is a New Yorker painter and writer. Most of her works are about the female point of view. But, even with the knowledge about the artist’s life, nothing could prepare Lav for the pairing ahead of her: it was a woman sitting down on her bed, relaxed and completely naked. She was touching her body and her body was golden from the sunlight. You couldn’t see her face, she was painting from her point of view.
“You know I can write about any perspective but I’m having trouble with this one because it shows such a intimate view of the woman’s body. I called Lovelace to help me as soon as we got the thing but she said “darling I’m too old to remember the feeling of looking down at a younger version of my body”
Lavignia couldn’t mutter a word, she was too much hypnotized by the work. And also jealous: she doesn’t know what it is to be naked on her own bed just taking in her own body. She didn’t knew that could be so much freedom when you’re “normal”. Because one thing is too see Bowie and Jagger preaching sexual freedom. She thought it was made for the ones that had an unusual life. But here she was meeting people that had no problem with showing themselves to her.
“So, what do you think?” Harry asked her.
“She has a classic technique of color mixing and…”
“Darling I know all of that part. I need your take about the painting, what’s the feeling behind that and what it compares to true life, and then, together, we can figure it out how to fit inside the theme, how to display it and finally decide the story we are going to tell with Love and Sex because, I’m sorry, my dove, but we have such an unique gallery and exhibit that I don’t want to waste it with cliche display options, I know we only have two days but if we think something NOW, we have tomorrow and the entire morning of saturday to fix it.”
It was too much. It was too much. It was too much.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right.
So Lavignia almost screamed without having second thoughts:
“That’s not right, I can’t go on and talk about that! She had her thoughts while doing this piece, but there must exist this lack of control when people make such works. Life HAS to have control, Harry. YES it’s a wonderful piece but I don’t feel anything while looking at it”
“You’re lying. I can tell when you’re looking at me like that” Harry said with a sad yet angry look upon his eyes “your problem is that you never let yourself lose control. You don’t think I notice... but I do. You give everyone the same staring eyes, judgmental eyes when you remember about your ‘lack of control’. When Jeannie asked us to give you a chance, I went with an open heart. I just undressed my soul to you while reading that poem, I thought you were different from her, she judged me and left me. And here you are judging me. How many days till you walk away from the gallery? When we are on the day of the opening and you leave us with all of the work it should be also yours? We are a family down at the gallery and you have no right to fuck that up with your precious control” his voice started to raise “but let me tell you one thing: one day you are going to have a cock so deep in you that you’ll feel it on your tummy, fingers messing with your button and a tongue down your throat and you’re going to find down there is more to life than your precious control”
He turned his back and finally said: “Get out of my house, I’ll call Lovelace and ask her to fix the Semmel for me. I don’t think I will go to the gallery until the opening, I can’t look at you when you’re looking at me like I’m sick. If you want to stay, we all are going to welcome you with open arms. If you still want to learn how to let go of your prejudice like you said it to me yourself: I’m here. But as long as you are judging us and messing with people's hard work: I can’t look at you.” He gave her one final look and opened his mouth one last time: “do me a favor and only go Saturday if you are willing to try. If that’s not what you want it’s not fair to you to continue to suffer what our daily works entails. And it’s not fair to us to be kept on the fence if you’ll stay or not. And it’s not fair to me to be lead on and think I have a chance of you being mine”
And with that he left the room. Letting Lavinia alone with her own thoughts. She had to get of his house. She need to talk with someone.
She needed Jeannie Lovelace.
.
She knocked one time.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
One more time and Lavignia would go home and pack.
The door was opened.
“Darling, are you alright?” Said Jeannie Lovelace. She was with a beautiful black silk skirt, barefoot and a simple white shirt: “I thought you and Harry were going to spend the day together. Come in, come in”
She went inside still paralyzed. Jeannie lead her towards the nearest couch (the heart shaped one) and said: “Laviginia, do you want a hug?”
She hugged the old lady that smelled like lavender. She felt at home. She cried.
“What happened? Do I need to go and kill Harry?”
“I think I’m the one that needs the killing” and so she begging the story. From the time they met, to all the flirst, how Harry tried to help her to feel at home and more comfortable with her own skin and nature. Told about the flirting and the night before. And then… told her about what happened just a few minutes ago. When she was done, Jeannie looked at her and finally started to talk:
“Lav, I don’t think he was right to say those things, but I don’t think you were right to judge so harshly. You know, we are what life made us” she paused “I can’t talk about you, I just met you. I hired you not only because of your knowledge and because we needed someone with your background, I could easily get somenome from Rome for that. But it was because I trust my instincts and it felt like there was a little fairy whispering to me ‘she’s the one you need’. I don’t know how much do you want to open up, but I’m here”
Lavignia opened her mouth without even thinking “do you know why I was in Paris? Because after I graduated my father told me that now that I could say I was educated and fulfilled my ‘feminist dream’ I should go back to real life and marry. He wanted me to marry the neighbor, by the way. When I said no, he just told me to leave. I still had a bit of money and one of my classmates was French, so that’s where I went.”
“You know, for someone that is so afraid of life, you are quite brave”
“So I’ve been told” she paused “but… how will this fix the shit Ihave done to him?”
“My darling, he is no stranger to heartbreak. He is a free spirit, yes, but he longs to have someone to be free with him. There was something about you that made him feel enchanted, the same way he was some time ago with that girl… but she wasn’t the one for him”
“But I have done the same thing: I was quick to me judgmental with him”
“There is a huge quote by the one and only Anaïs Nin that goes like this: ‘You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken’. Do you understand that, darling?”
“I do. How do you remember so much of this big quote?”
“Because it was thanks to this book that I woke up. You see, my family had same expectations for me. But imagine that 40 years ago… women barely could go to university. It was - still is, sadly - a man’s world. But, day by day, we can get our space. And that’s in everything, including sex. Don’t be ashamed to own your power. Own your body. Give your life everything what it deserves. Think of you first. And… when you find out who you are and if that person wants people like us as your friends, will be here. If you want Harry to be with you, he will be. And he will take you on your craziest adventures because come on… he’s an aquarius”
“I’m a Libra”
“It’s a good match” Lovelace laughed “would you like some wine? I was about to drink some rosé?”
One hour later they had bruschetta and one bottle of wine almost finished. She was listening to Lovelace talk about her adventures and, unlike last Monday, she was lovin’ it. That woman had such good stories.
Maybe was the wine but Lavignia finally had the courage to ask: “Do you think Harry will forgive me?”
“Darling, the moment you said yes to the wine, I know he will forgive you”
“Why?”
“Because you stayed”
.
Day 5: sunlight
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_Semmel#/media/File%3AThe_Jewish_Museum's_Wikipedia_Edit-a-Thon_20.jpg
Lavignia woke up with the rays of the sun hitting her face. She looked at the window and it was completely opened. Didn’t she close it last night?
After all the drinking and talking with Jeannie, she called her a taxi so she didn’t have to ride the bus alone and slightly intoxicated.
Looking at the clock she had beside the mattress on the floor - she really didn’t have time to make her complete move just yet so her small loft was quite simple: off white walls, a dresser, a kitchen, her mattress and a little door to the bathroom with a a bathtub. There were boxes all over the floor, the Sunday after the opening she would fix everything, maybe paint the walls and get a few posters: one of Stevie Nicks, one of Frida Khalo and one of Bridget Bardot: her most divine life examples.
Looking at her door, she saw her blue knee high boots and her purse and inside her purse she could see just a little bit of the light pink and blue book cover.
Maybe … she could?
She really didn’t want to get up so she crawled towards her purse and got the book. She could imagine his reaction to her crawling for something of his.
Back to her bed, Lavignia was lost looking at the book cover, trying to catch all of the details. One side was blue and the other pink. The front cover he had the name “Fine Line” and there was a drawing of him laying down, naked. But you couldn’t see nothing, just the contour lines. Nothing else. At the back of the book there was a simple quote:
This is a story about my journey.
The one where I found and lost love.
But I found myself.
Do you know who you are?
As soon as the book was opened, Lavignia found the dedication, it was for his mother and Jeannie - who he calls his American mother. Then, there was a list of 15 poems and prose with the number of pages next to it: the cherry tree sonet, I saw an angel; from the hallway I write you this poem; don’t call me baby, again; the fruits of your body; the lights; golden as the sun; adoration; sex is medicine; summertime and butterflies; from Tokyo, with love; the little gallery.
What was better? Reading the book from the beginning or do just like Harry did not even 24 hour ago and choose randomly. Lavignia went with the later. This time it was a little prose:
Adoration
I like the love language our eyes share. When we are so together laying in bed with the sounds of the city having a conversation behind the windows. We are so close that I can feel our lashes touch. Do you know I adore you?
There are words you can’t say yet. And I understand, darling. You don’t have to say you love me. But I have to tell you: I adore you.
Please, let me adore you
I adore you
I love you
Reading this made her understand more about him. Lovelace wasn’t lying when she said Harry feels everything to its maximum. He was so pure when it comes to the matter of the heart. She felt so guilty for how she treated him. But she knows that at the time she was a different person than she is now, just a day later. All thanks to Jeannie and her Anaïs Nin quote. Wanting to read another, she opened the book in a random page, this time it was a poem:
The fruits of your body
From the tangerine smell of your body
To the dreams I have of your lipstick
It’s strawberry lick, isn’t?
From the way you hold my body
To the way you make me love it
It’s sultriness, isn’t?
From taste of watermelon
That slips all the way down your legs
I suck it all up. Don’t I?
From the way you make me grow
To the way you make me shiver
I’m at your feet
Yours.
Yours while you’ll have me.
Yours.
As long as the fruit season lasts.
I hope it lasts forever
The more she read, hotter she felt. It was never like this. She ripped her dress off. She ripped her underwear off. She wanted to get off. For the first time.
But how?
And then she remembered something a certain curly haired man with a mustache told her: “think about it when you’re alone”.
That painting. That damn painting. All of the art pieces she looked this week. The smell of him. The way his body moved. The way he looked at her. She was on fire. The sunlight coming from the window ignited the fire on her body. She was finally on fire.
Looking down at her body, knowing she was treasure map, ready to be discovered. So her journey begins:
A light touch to her neck, with the tip of her finger. The heat grows inside. Her breast so full of desire: she grabbed them. Massages them. Pinching each one of her nipples. Changed the pressure. Moaned and arched her body. She needed more but she didn’t want to stop her exploring, so she raised to her knees, getting one of her pillows.
Right between her legs. With her hands getting acquainted with herself she rolled her hip and thought of green eyes watching her. Would he have a smile on his face? She hopes so. Because she is so fucking proud of herself. She was a queen in search of the pleasure she never had the right before.
Her body. Her pleasure. Her orgasm.
When she got tired from riding the pillow she laid down again. Her hands went to her heat. And she touched and touched and touched.
And then… sunlight. She was covered in light. She was the sunlight. Her body reactions is like a morning light: beautiful and so unique.
When she had finally calmed herself she looked around. And something just clicked.
Getting up and taking a shower was the first thing she needed to do. Then… Lavignia would run as fast as she could to the gallery: she knew what to do about the opening.
Day 6: perfume https://fineartamerica.com/featured/perfume-1910-luigi-russolo.html
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. The sun was finally setting but it was still hot. Hotter than ever. And if she didn’t hurry she was going to be late for the opening.
The silk white dress Lovelace gave her was from her own wardrobe. “From my peach days” she called. The dress had thin straps and it reached mid thigh with a fringe assuming the rest of the outfit till it reached her ankle. It was a true fastidious dress from the 30s. And she felt in character.
Just the day before Laviginia stayed back at the gallery till almost 3am together with Jeannie and Vanessa (and Cathy, she got there with dinner for them and stayed to help).
It was hard but the moment she told her idea, Jeannie and Vanessa fell in love with it. It was original and so in touch with everything the gallery stood for.
Sitting on the bus she looked at the the street. It was almost night time and people were starting to begin their Saturdays festivities. Lavignia felt her stomach turn and turn, the closer she got to the bus stop the more her nerves were making her crazy.
She was going to do the presentation. Yes, that was Jeannie and/or Harry’s job. But well… it would be a miracle if he showed up today and Lovelace said it was all Lavignia, so she is the one that making all the talking.
Getting out of the bus was easy. Finding her around the streets that lead to Mattina ed Estasi was easy. There was music and people talking loudly. From the window of an old building she could see the shadow of a couple making love.
But the moment she saw the red Harley, nothing was easy. Her heart was beating fast. Harry was already there. He probably saw the way they fixed everything. Just the paintings with a small description to it. The order didn’t offer any technical logic. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was just as anxious as she.
But Lavignia knew she wouldn’t get her answer if she just stood there. She had to walk through those doors and face everything.
She was ready.
.
The moment she was inside the gallery she felt so proud of herself. Looking at all the pieces circling the space. Forming a cycle. A love and sex cycle. And four of those pieces where on the center stage: first is Sunlight, followed by Correggio and the Aphrodite, the gods and goodness deserved to be together. And, finally, the one she was so afraid on her second day of work but became one of Lav’s favorite art pieces to ever exist: the women with the black stockings.
When she dressed today, she was inspired by the painting. But, instead of black, it was white. White lace and see through lingerie her friend from France gave her but she never had the courage to wear - till today - with white stocking. A little innocent gif, if Harry was willing to open when the night is over.
And by the way… where is Harry? The opening was only for another hour and she knows she was the last one here.
“Oh, you’re finally here. Good” she heard Nessa’s low voice. Dressed in a black glittery jumpsuit with wide legs and a heart shaped cut in the chest area. Looking like the disco goodness she was “Lovelace was getting worried. You look beautiful, by the way” giving her a small kiss on the cheek she continued “I have to go and see if all of the catering is ready but Lovelace and Harry are upstarts. Any second now… okay?”
And she was alone again. But not for long.
She could smell him before she could actually see him. The same vanilla and tobacco. But if Lavignia thought she was feeling a little bit woozy with his smell. Nothing could prepare her for the outfit he choose: white trousers and tank top with a white blazer. Something John Travolta would wear. He had a bit of scruff but his mustache was still the first thing she noticed in his face, together with the pink sunglasses.
Harry was looking at her, frozen at the top of the copper stairs.
“We match” she said about the all white assembly they both were wearing.
“You came”
And he gave her a small smile. Maybe not everything was lost.
.
Even with their little exchange, Harry hasn’t talked to her. The opening was keeping everybody busy. There was photographers and journalist to entertain. A lot of people from the villa, too.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Jeannie in her bright pink spaghetti dress talking to Angelino. He was wearing a blue velvet suit. They fitted together.
The clock read 8:47 pm, more 13 minutes and she would go to the little stage and do the presentation. She was nervous. Lavignia was in need of a drink.
As if he heard her thoughts, Harry got closer to her for the first time in the evening with a champagne glass:
“You look nervous. Everything is perfect, you can relax” he said, with a faint smile. Up close she could see the birds tattooed in his chest “and don’t you look quite dazzling tonight”
“Thanks. You look quite handsome yourself” accepting the glass and taking a big gulp, her shoulders finally relaxing a bit “I’m nervous about the presentation”
“Don’t be. Lovelace always dazzles everyone. And I’m quite curious to find out why she chose this order to present the works”
He didn’t know.
“She didn’t. I did. And I’m doing the presentation. I’m so nervous” Harry looked at her with shocked eyes. Then he looked around. Then back at her, finally taking his glasses off and looking right inside her eyes:
“Then can you help me make sense of everything?”
“I think I’ll let you find out with the rest of the people here”
“Why are you teasing me so much? I wouldn’t do that”
“No, you would do worse” she looked at him with a glint inside the honey color of her eyes “actually, I think you will do worse to me, one way or another”
“Depends, if you’re a good girl then it won’t exist any teasing. So come on… enlighten me. Tell me why everything is organized like this”
“It’s a story. And that’s everything I’m gonna tell you right now” even with their light conversation, Lavignia felt like there was an elephant in the room, so she finally decided to talk about it “can we talk? You know… about what happened?”
“After this, maybe?”
“Why aren’t you upset with me? I thought I would have to get on my knees and beg for you to talk to me today”
“You stayed. The moment you decided to stay, I decided to give you a little bit of my heart. But after the presentation, we can steal a bottle of champagne and go to the office upstairs” he took the bit of her hair that was loose and fixed behind her ear “about getting on your knees: you still can, darling” smiling he gave her his own glass “and there is my favorite embarrassed little girl. Now drink, Jeannie is going to the stage right now, your presentation will start soon.
The anticipation she felt about the promise of an “later” with Harry was only bigger than the wheels that were turning inside her stomach. Lovelace was getting up on the stage, god she was going to die.
“Ladies, gentlemen and everything that is in between, good night and welcome to our new exhibition: Love and Sex” people were clapping and shouting “Before telling the story behind those pieces, I wanna thank Angelino, from Villaggio dell’amore, for making such a delicious dinner for us. Also I would like to thank Vanessa, she works for the gallery since 1975 and since she got here, we only got better the same goes to Harry “she said posting her glass towards Nessa then Harry “you not only came here and invested in our little gallery but you gave us so much more, most of the pieces from today wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You had this idea and with our little help, we created this magic. So thank you” he raised his glass and say something in Italian that she couldn’t quite pinpoint with all the clapping.
“Now, not long ago our family got a new member. She came here with her doubts but the moment she allowed the pleasure behind the art envolve her completely, she changed this exhibit for the better and today she’s going to be the one to talk to you. Graduated in Arts in Communication and my new adoptive daughter: Lavignia”
Harry gave her a small pat on the but like saying “you’re up”.
When Lavignia climbed the three steps to the little stage, she could feel like she was shaking. When she hugged Lovelace, she was shaking. The moment she saw all of those people faces, she was shaking. But when she saw his smile, she wasn’t shaking. He gave her peace of mind.
“Thank you, Jeannie, for the lovely introduction” he gave her a not “Welcome to Love and Sex, today, we are going to tell you a little story”
“From the start of the day, we have this huge Sunlight, a piece from Joan Semmel. Sunlight here isn’t only the signal of a new day that begins. When we talk about Love and Sex, we also talk about the discover of yourself. Know your pleasure, own your pleasure. Make love to your own body. You will never get the meaning of true love or sex, unless you become acquainted with yourself. Inside out. That’s what Sunlight is about: is the vision of the artist upon her own body. When she loves what she see and knows each part of her; what makes her quiver and long. When she makes her own body shake with love and sex is when she is ready to discover the world. Because the moment you understand yourself, you can understand others without any prejudice or pride. The moment you allow yourself is when you can finally deliver yourself to the fogs of pleasure, so well represented by Correggio’s Jupiter. Because here Jupiter is desire, is temptation, it’s the deliver. It’s when you embrace the feeling of bliss. That’s actually why we put gods and goodness together, because when you look at Aphrodite, you want to be inside the piece, you want to be this woman that not only represents beauty but also love. It’s when the pleasure you search it’s at its peak. Orgasm. High. Whatever word you might want to call it”
Harry was looking at her with attentive eyes. A proud smile. A promise of an later. Everything about the way he looked at her made her feel anything but ashamed for the things she was saying. She had a speech prepared. But she remembers nothing of it because the moment she was on stage nothing else mattered beside her feelings towards the pieces, at the end everything is about feelings.
“And then, we finally have The woman with the black stockings; because sometimes you have the chance to find people whose intensity matches yours and you just want that person. You dream and you desire, because now, sex is not only sex but is also love. You fuck at 10 am but have slow sex in the evening. Whatever this person wants, is theirs. You are opening yourself. Not only literally but metaphorically, as well. And you can only hope this person doesn’t get scared only because you’re so open”
The whole moment she was talking, people were walking around the artworks. But now, they were all looking at her. Now was the time to close her explanation and kiss her man, the same man that was so attentively looking at her and helping her since the first day.
“If love is a prose, sex is poetry. From all the artworks I just told you all about it, they all share the same theme but are shown in a different way. From the fog that encapsulates the young woman in Jupiter to the woman with her open legs showing to her lover that everything that is hers is also his. Giving him the privilege to see her in such a tender yet sensual way. Because love and sex are privileges. You can have one without the other, but together they are powerful. Is a privilege because you can’t find that in others so easily. The ones that can see what pleasure is all about, that there is no shame in longing, in wanting, in quivering for someone but also recognize than when you do it all of this with love: Is irreplaceable”
Looking around she saw people with tears in their eyes. Lavignia was so proud of herself.
“Is a privilege because not everybody can find that. A few people spend all of their lives without knowing the true pleasures of the flesh and others spend their lives wanting to be loved, waiting for someone to fit inside of them just like a puzzle. But, sometimes, all you need is you. The world is quite boring but some people know how to make it colorful, just like those artist that shows us the most inherent sentiment of the human race with the most primal desire of the human race.
This, is love and sex. Enjoy your night. Thank you.”
Lavignia could hear the applause. Lovelace went to give her a kiss on the cheek, Nessa and Cathy were hugging her, welcoming her to the family. Journalist wanted to talk to to her. She could see cameras flashing and unknown faces congratulating her. But her focus was in looking for him, and she found him: at the top of the stairs, with a bottle on his hand, he gave her a nod, pointing toward the office door. Lovelace, that was standing right beside her told her to go.
.
The office had baby blue and white walls. That was the first thing she noticed. There was a bathroom and a big window showing the hot Italian summer night. In the middle of the room was a desk and sitting on that same desk, there was a man picking at his nails with a champagne bottle next to him. When he heard the door, he gave her a smile and stood up.
“I thought you were going to ditch me”
“No. Just had a lot of people wanting to talk. Sorry”
“Nothing to be sorry for” he took a step closer to her “can I just start by saying how I’m so fucking proud of you? You gave such a nice speech and you made the theme so much better than what we initially thought. Cheers to that” he gave her a small smile and the bottle. Taking from his hands and drinking a big gulp, the sweet taste of the champagne that had notes of cherry filled her tastes buds. She gave him the bottle back so he could drink and asked him:
“What was the message you took from everything?”
“That love and sex is to let yourself go. As you said, it’s a privilege… and what a nice privilege” they were standing in the middle of the room, the sound of the party downstairs was nothing compared to the silent conversation that was happening behind every word they exchanged.
Harry thought Lavignia looked beautiful with the lights from the night sky illuminating her beautiful face. It was only then and the moon. Their only witness was the moon. He wanted to get a paper and write everything he was thinking. Maybe he would named Her and the moon and would say something among the lines: even the moon takes chances in betting that our love begins tonight. Strong or weak. Happy or sad.
But they still had so much to talk. So Harry decided to begin: “why were you so harsh to judge? Not only me but everybody here, actually”
“I think I was intimidated by you. You came telling about your weekend and I could only think ‘he has done more in three days that I have done my entire life. And I don’t know I think when you mix that with the unknown, I ended up misjudging you. More than once. Even when you were always so open to me” she got the champagne, drinking some more “I’m so ashamed for how I treated everybody here. You and Nessa and even Lovelace that first night, drinking everything and passing out.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed, we are family here. And family forgives, right?” he pinched her nose “And yeah, I understand what you mean, we tend to fear the unknown. Were you really discussed by me? And the fact I like a little bit of everything?”
“I think I was jealous,actually. And I hated myself for the feeling you gave me since last Monday when I saw you walk through the door. But I don’t think I was actually discussed, you know? Not at you, at least. Maybe at myself. It was hard to understand all the feelings I was having and also understand that feeling all of this is okay”
“I thought you were beautiful, you know? I was captivated by you since the first day. And we were always on and off during the week. There were days I thought you were finally understanding us and days I was sad because you looked at us as if we were monsters... exept when you start talking about art. That’s beautiful. You lose yourself in it.”
She was so closer to him now, playing with his rings. Harry noticed little lines on her forehead, like she was thinking about something.
“You seem like you want to ask me something”
“Do you still want to get to know me? Or have I missed my chance?” He laughed at that.
“Of course I wanna get to know you.”
In that moment, both of them let go a relieved breath. It was crazy to think about how much could change in one week. Lavignia always thought you could only feel like she was feeling was you know someone for years, but sometimes you have the privilege.
It was a brand new start, the Sunlight was a reborn for her. And now they were on the same page. They were both open. They both wanted a real chance.
“Will you be patient with me?” She asked him
“Always.”
“When are you going to kiss me?”
“When I’m finally inside of you”
“And when is that?”
“In a few hours from now, when the party has died down a little bit”
“I was thinking you were going to kiss me now.”
“Well... we can do other stuff, you know?”
“Like the painting at your house? It’s quite sensual”
“Look at you. How do you managed to be able to talk like this in just two days”
“You can’t see it because of the lack of light but I’m blushing right now but... you are right. I had to discover myself. Actually one of your poems helped me, and all of those paintings, they created a good picture in my head.”
“Are you saying you got off to one of my poems?”
She nodded her head. Affirmative.
“Which one?”
“The one about the fruits”
“Fuck... you are making real hard for me not to kiss you right now”
“Why don’t you?”
“I’m going to. Just not now. If I’m going to kiss you I’m going to do it right. Laying on my bed, with me inside of you. But it doesn’t mean I can’t do something to help you. I can see you’re squishing your thighs.” getting closer to her, he looked right inside her eyes, making her feel dizzy.
“Tell me, darling. Ever heard about voyeurism?” Harry asked with his deep voice just above a whisper.
She was feeling dizzy. His perfume was increasing all of her nerves. The smell of vanilla marking her melt while the notes of tobacco was igniting a fire within herself she never felt before”
He got closer again and grabbed her hips “I’m not going to ask again... ever hear of voyeurism?”
She nodded her head. A negative.
“Well...it’s when you have satisfaction of watching people engage in sexual situations” he said in a low whisper close to her ear, she was shaking. Harry was walking her backwards till her back was against the desk “I would love to see you hump this pretty table till you get lost in the feeling of a delicious high. And then I’ll take your wet panties from you and put it on my front pocket, close to the part that is aching the most to get to know you” he raised her to sit on the desk, opening her legs in a position her clit was resting on the cold and hard surface “then we are going to mingle. People are going to come to you and talk about how good your speech was. Cathy and Nessa are going to want to take photographs. Poor them, little they know my little girl is without any underwear, wet and waiting for us to get home” he started to help her move her hips on the desk. The first few waves of pleasure passing through her body like little flicks of energy “and then I’ll take you home and fuck you properly for the first time in your life, would you like that, darling?” She nodded her head and he gave her a peck in one of her eyelids “good. But, for all of that to happen I need you to do me a favor and come”
“Won’t people hear me?”
“And what’s the matter of that. We are not working anymore. We are enjoying a very sensual party, just like everyone else. And I can promise what we are doing here... everybody down there had done at least two times worse” she was hypnotized by him and his damn perfume “fuck it, right?”
Fuck it
Lavignia felt her hips moving more and more. Her toes were turning inside her boots. Harry was whispering dirty nothings close to her ear, leaving light kisses across all of her neck and chest. Holding her tights open, helping her move, sometimes moving his hips closer to her just so she could feel the promise of later.
Harry let go her trembling body so he could watch her. Taking two steps back he admired her, her body was moving like an erotic dance, one of the straps of her dress was falling of her shoulder, showing him a little bit of the left breast that was covered by the thin fabric of the bra. And then… that was when he saw it: the white stockings.
“Aren’t you a work of art.. I wish I could paint you right now, make Shiele quiver with jealousy that he didn’t get to capture you”
She could feel her orgasm approaching, the little flicks of pleasure growing stronger the harder she rolled her hips on the hardwood table.
“When we get home, I’m going to spread you open, I’m going to kiss and lick every single part of you. I might have to sell my soul just to not come to soon because my body it’s so hot for you. So so hot. Come on, little darling. Come for me”
And she came.
Like an avalanche starting from between her legs and making her whole body treble, forming incoherent words and losing its strength. But before she could fall off the desk, his body was back, holding her close and telling her to breath. Taking care of her.
When she came down completely of her high he took her panties off. She was wide eyes when he smelled and said to himself something among the lines of “delicious”.
This was only the start of tonight.
.
The wind was hitting Lavignia in the face, getting closer to his neck. His Harley was running around the Italian streets. She no longer felt ashamed for the thoughts going round her head in comparison to their first ride together.
After their little encounter at the office they went downstairs holding hands. Getting funny looks and a thumbs up from Nessa and Cathy and a smile from Lovelace.
They danced with people, looked at all of the artwork together for the billionth time, Harry introduced her to a designer that was at the opening and a few other people. When they noticed it was close to 2 am and people were leaving.
They stayed to help to dismount the stage and be sure nothing happened to the pieces but Lovelace told them to go home.
So now it was 3 am and Lavignia was taking advantages of her position behind Harry to stuck her nose in his hair and take in his smell. Maybe she needed to see a doctor. She was addicted to his perfume.
When they finally reached his place, Harry gave her his key to open a little gate so he could park the motorcycle. She noticed that he had a very yellow BMW.
“Not that I don’t like the Harley but how come you never drive this beauty?”
“The gallery is so close from my place that I don’t see a reason why. But, I’ll take you for a ride anyday. How ‘bout that?”
She nodded her head while still looking at the car but the moment Harry touched her back, indicating to go in through the backdoor, she stopped everything to follow him.
They were back to the black and white kitchen. Harry took of his white blazer, now only with the white tank top and the trousers. She could finally see his tattoos now. The naked mermaid, the ship. Lavignia was so hypnotized by him that she didn’t move from the door.
“See something that you like, darling?” He asked putting the pink glasses on the table together with his blazer. Lavignia didn’t answer anything, closing the door, she walked towards him. Taking off her shoes and putting her purse on the table as well.
“Can I get you anything?” He asked “some wine” she hugged his middle and nodded her head in a negative “or maybe water? Something to eat?” She noticed his smirk, he was living to tease her, but it was a week long teasing “little darling, if you don’t say anything I’m just going to keep asking. Put those pretty red lips up to good use and tell me what you want”
“You made me a promise early tonight…”
“Hey, come on… to be shy on me now” he was so close, the heat of his body could be felt in her back, he was closer and closer till… oh, he was already hard?
“You said you were going to kiss me…”
“I was going to kiss when…”
“You…” she could do it, she could say it “when you are finally inside of me”
“That’s my girl, come up”
He lead her towards the stairs. Lavignia wanted to see every artwork he had around the house but she was too focused on him (and his damn perfume). Soon enough they were in front of a dark wood door.
His room had light pink walls, tall floor to ceiling windows and in the middle of the room a huge bed with a canopy. He told her to feel comfortable and she went to sit on the bed with her feet barely touching the ground.
“Don’t you look pristine sitting all straight and proper. You can get more comfortable darling, I swear the bed isn’t going to bite you”
He was kneeling in front of her, with both arms at each side of her body.
“Why are you on your knees?”
“Because I’m going to pray”
“I didn’t know people prayed before having sex” she joked
“Darling you can’t be serious” she laughed and he was stuck admiring her but then she stopped at looked at the painting he had on the wall
“Is that the 1910 painting by Luigi Russollo?”
“Yeah, I like the way he uses his synesthesia to make the most sensual paintings” he kissed her cheekbones and started making his way down her neck, using his hands to fiddle with her dress. But he wasn’t done yet, we wanted to make her blush a little more “so… can I begging my prayer?”
When she nodded her head he attacked her left breast over the dress, she was lightly moaning and he was getting dizzy. She was the best type of drug, every little thing seemed to me a new feeling for her and he wanted to watch her while she discovered more and more of the pleasures of the flash.
“It’s too hot” she said is a whisper
“Can I take of your dress?” Giving him a small yes, she helped him take of her dress, now, only in her bras and white stocking. She looked like a goodness, deserving its place with next with the Aphrodite back in the gallery.
Harry used his hands to make her lay and opened her legs. He they started to kiss her legs, going up to the inside of her thigh, when she could feel his breath, he went to her other leg and made the same path.
When he felt like both of her legs were full of loving, he kissed just above her little point of pleasure, just to see how she would react. She whispered a little “stay” and he couldn’t wait anymore, he has to pray, he couldn’t delay it anymore so he just gave a full lick from her opening to her mound. Playing with her labia but never touching her clit, he wanted her swollen for him. Anxious for his lips, longing for his cock.
Using the tip of his fingers, he was playing with her opening, but never actually penetrating her. When he thought she was getting loud enough, he started to suck at her clit the same moment his middle finger entered her. Using a come here motion, he found the button inside of her.
Lavignia felt like she was in heaven, she was being adored by this man’s mouth and hands. She wanted more, she needed more. Trying to move her hips towards his mouth to get an even better feeling.
Normally, Harry would hold the person down, but Lavignia looked like an angel and she had such a sweet taste. He just couldn’t so he gave her everything he could and let her take anything she wanted from his mouth and fingers.
It didn’t take long till she was a trembling mess. Her release was sweet like honey and the most enjoyable thing to watch.
While she was calming down from her high, Harry got up and took of his shirt, he was sweating too much. Then he help her up the bed and started to kiss her eyelids and comp his finger through her hair.
“Hi” she said
“Hey” he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose “do you want anything? Maybe water?”
“No” she used her leg to press the tent that was appearing in his crotch area “I want what you promised me”
“Are you sure? We can do it tomorrow, I don’t mind if you’re tired. You came pretty hard”
“Please, I want to feel you”
“Okay”
He was hers. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. So, her wish was his command. He stood on his knees and opened his pants never taking his eyes off of her.
Lavignia was feeling her body burn so much. She was close to the point of hyperventilating, the moment she saw his member spread free.
“No underwear?”
“It gets in the way”
When they were both fully naked (with the exception of her white stocking, “this one stays” he told her) and he was on top of her, he took one of her hands and asked if she has done that before.
“A few times, almost five years ago”
“I’ll go slow. Please, hold my hand and tell me if it hurts too badly”
When she nodded, Harry got hold of himself and started to massage her with it, her clit, her labia, trying to get himself wet with her moisture. That’s when he remembered “on that nightstand I have a lube, it’s water based and smells like orange. Would you mind if I used a bit on both of us? It might help to ease myself into you”
“Sure” she said with har breath starting to pick up again. So Harry for the bottle and warned her it might be a bit cold.
Using the gel with both of his fingers, he got in easy, making the same come here movements and sliding his finger out with a “pop” sound.
When he went to pass on his own dick, she stopped him and with a shy voice asked if she could do it for him. And he said yes.
So she used both of her hands to be able to get his entire shaft and massaged him, up and down, squeezing when she got to the base and using the top of her finger when it was the head, all following his instructions.
“Stop” he told her “if you continue I’ll come before we even start and I don’t think I can’t handle anymore”
So, they were back to the same position as before, he on top of her, both of her legs were intertwined with his, his left hand on her right hand and they mouths finally close to each other.
When he started to enter her, she felt a small burn. It wasnt bad, but she isn’t didn’t knew if it was good. He was slowly easing himself and after a while she decided that it was a good type of burn.
When Harry was all the way in he finally said: “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
It was a weird first kiss, but it was perfect. He was inside of her in more ways than he could explain. People say that when you have sex, even if it’s a one night stand, your essence connects with person, and they were connecting in a way that it was rare in any galaxy.
Then he started to move, painfully slow, they didn’t have anywhere to go, that was no reason to rush.
“You know, it’s not going to be good for my ego if I come too soon” he told her
“After a week of reading I was hope for you to blow my mind not to blow your shot too soon”
“Heeeet, that’s mean”
He was loving it, he was having sex with the most amazing girl and they were still able to have that banter he loved so much. God, he was going to fall in love with her. He could feel it.
After that, they let their bodies to the talking. She was moaning and so was he. It was sweet. It was hot. It was everything love and sex is all about.
When they were done, Harry got them water from the kitchen and a banana. Then she wanted to do it again, so they did it, this time against the bedpost. When they were done, they talked for hours, finally getting to know each other. They feel asleep the sun was already high in the sky and there wasn’t any worry or shame for her neither any pain for him. They were cured and were ready to begin another journey, this time with one another, another day, another sunlight.
Day 7: a balcony in Italy https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Paintings-Bedroom-Balcony-In-Italy/1131921/4490457/view
She woke up alone inside the bed, completely naked with the exception of the satin sheets. There was a single sunflower resting on top of the tiny desk next to the bed with a simple paper that read:
Good morning, bunny
Get out of the room and take a left. You will find a round wooden stairs that will lead you to the balcony. I’m waiting you for breakfast.
Getting a purple robe that smelled just like Harry she went upstairs, finding a suspended garden with all types of flowers she could think. There was an old table that looked from 1930, on top of the same table there was fruits and pancakes. The sunlight was shining from the big balcony, letting the Italian summer fill their lungs and eyes.
She found Harry sitting on one of the chairs, wearing a green and white striped shirt with washed blue jeans. She could see he had shaven because there was no scruff but his mustache was still there. Just from looking at it she feels a chill running down from her back till it reaches her most private parts at the memory of the same mustache passing across all of her body in his always there teasing manner.
Harry didn’t see Lav at first, but he did listened to her footsteps. Writing something in his journal, not touching his food. Waiting for her.
“You know... how long are you planning on staring at me? Should I get naked to make it better for you?” He said with a smile on his face, finally looking at her with a shine inside his eyes. One that hasn’t left since they made up yesterday.
“Sorry I didn’t...”
“Bunny you can stare at me all you want. But I bet you’re hungry, so why don’t you come here and eat with me?”
Lavignia started to walk towards Harry but he stopped her:
“Naked” that made her pause all of her movements. “Take of your robe love, and come and sit on my lap. Let’s eat together, shall we? I wanna be close to you” Messing with her tangled curls she looked around and at the balcony: what if someone sees me?
But it only took one look at Harry to know that there is no problem because even if someone sees them: fuck it, right? Isn’t that what she learned from this crazy week?
So she took off her robe, trying to look Harry in the eyes, no matter how much she wanted to look at the ground. Walking towards him, she won a beautiful smile as a present for her courage.
Now, on his lap, with her back against his front, she relaxed. Maybe was his smell - the fant reminder of the perfume and sex - or the way he kissed the back of her neck and passed his hands through her hair.
“So what do you want? We have coffee,orange juice. Bread and eggs. Pancakes and fruits.”
“Isn’t a bit late to be eating breakfast? It’s almost 3 pm”
“I mean... we did go to bed almost 8 am. And I see there is nothing bad with having breakfast for lunch”
With that Harry served her first (she wanted strawberries and pancakes) and then choose a slide of watermelon to start his meal - god knows how much they needed to eat after the night rolling around the bed.
“How did you have the time to make such a big breakfast?”
“Oh, I only made the pancakes” he said using his free hand to caress her right thigh “was planning on getting you breakfast in bed, and all of that. You know how smitten I am with you, bunny” he gave her a pitch on the cheek but continued talking: “But Lovelace sent this big breakfast as a thank you for the success that was the opening night yesterday. So I thought: change of plans. Organized everything here and left the note for you. But it didn’t take long because I don’t think I waited more than 20 minutes till you showed up using the robe even if I was very clear that you should come naked” he said giving her a funny look, pretending to be disappointed.
“Well... I don’t see you being naked”
“That can be arranged in 30 seconds, if you want”
She laughed and they continued to eat, the only sounds they could listen was the birds and the faint radio from someone outside, playing a romantic yet cheesy Italian song none of them ever heard.
Harry was using his free hand to tease her. Pressing his leg upon her mound. She was getting wet, feeling the heat of June so much hotter than actually way, like she was inside a stove.
“So, is here that you and your...” Lavignia was curious about his miscellany in bed, but she didn’t want him to feel mad or think she was jealous, she was just curious “guests “yeah, she choose the right word “here to refresh?”
Harry laughed: “my guests never actually even been here or my bedroom”
“Oh, so I’m different from all of them?”
Harry turned her around on his lap, with both of her legs each side of his waist. He took her head in both hands with a serious look:
“From the moment I saw you I was captivated. When I noticed how different you were I was so afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance because I have had my fair share of broken heart: from being cheated on to people who just said I can’t imagine the father of my children dressing the way you do all of that hurts, you know? I always give everything of me to the world but I never see the return of something that could be meaningful. And I think you mean something. I know you for only a week but there is a piece of me that wants to get to know you, fuck, even if you didn’t wanted to try and open up for life I would still find a way to be in your life either way. There is something inside those honey colored eyes that made me get so lost inside of them that I started to talk so much nonsense the day we met” he shook his head in a sign of denial “ I know I am a bit out of the usual guy but the first thing you heard from me was about a three way I had just the weekend before, that is no way to met someone you would wanna take out on a date, right”
“No. I was intimidated. I still am. There is so much I don’t know about the world and I only found out when I walked through that gallery door.”
“I think we balance each other and I can’t wait to figure it out more of us. If you want”
“I would like that”
“So, can I take you out on a date?”
“Isn’t this a date?”
“No, I wanna proper wine and dine you. Maybe take you to the movies. Fleetwood Mac is coming to Rome next month, we can have a little weekend getaway together”
“Okay. You can take me on a date”
He kissed her with fire in his soul after this. He was so used to being used just for his body or people with the dream of being one of his muses. And now he finally had a chance to start something amazing with this shy girl who is thrust so much in him.
“Good. Now that is settled, I wanna try something.”
He raised her up to her feet, opening his pants just enough to free his semi erect cock: “come and sit on me”
She looked at him with questioning in his eyes: “what about breakfast?”
“We are going to eat breakfast, come on” and with that she carefully sat on him. Both of them growling.
He took her plate and gave her a bite of the pancake. Everything seemed surreal for her: he was growing bigger inside of her and she was getting wetter. Every time she tried to move to get a bit of friction he would stop her. So there was only one thing for her to do: accept the food in her mouth and watch when he took bites of his watermelon looking at her. There was just something so erotic about everything.
“You know” Lavignia said when they were done and Harry rested their plate on the table “you are stuffing me full both ways right now” with that joke they started to laugh together
“One week ago you wouldn’t say this” Harry noted “I’m proud of you bunny. So proud that I’m going to give you a reward.
She looked at him, questioning. But he just took his hand and tapped her lips saying:
“Open up” she opened her mouth “tongue out”
And he did what she wasn’t expecting but it wasn’t a surprise at all: he sucked her to the inside of his mouth. Using his right hand to pull her hair while the other was getting down her body.
“Tastes just like strawberries, so fitting for this summer evening” He said before going in for more.
They started to kiss and his fingers were playing lightly with her clit. Never giving the pleasure necessary but always there... remembering her of the feeling of him inside and outside of her.
The more they kissed faster he would move his hand in her intimate parts while the other was manhandling her, with a strong grip on her hair, she couldn’t move. She was completely at his mercy.
When they both couldn’t take it anymore, Harry got hold of her hips, lifting her up and slamming her down his body, sending sparks through both of their bodies.
In that moment, she was stuck with the feeling of him he was the only thing that mattered. If someone could see them from the balcony: so be it. Even being on top, he was the one making her move. She couldn’t wait till the day she’d have the courage to be the one in charge.
“I’m not gonna last long” said Harry “sorry”
“It’s okay...” she said moaning. She was close to coming but from the sounds and the beating of Harry’s heart against her own: he was closer. Following her instinct she started to roll her hips every time he slammed her down, biting his neck and moaning in his ear: just for him.
It didn’t take long till Harry’s movements got a bit out rhythm so she said: “fill me up, come on. I need to feel you, to see you”
Harry was a goner. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth. He looked like an angel, if angels could be naughty as him.
When he opened his eyes, there was this adoration inside the way he looked at her. It was so loving that Lavignia said a little “oh” when he simply got up with her on his lap,used his hand to get whatever was on his way and her threw her on the desk, in the middle of the food, books, flowers.
He got down on his knees, looked at her through hooded eyes, mouth close to where she needed him the most and said: “second breakfast”
And third.
And forth.
The end
Oh, God, this was almost one moth of work and I’m so glad it all turned out just like I wanted, but first, i need to thank someone.
This fic exists thanks to the book “Woman, myth and godness”, it’s a book about the represetation of the woman inside arts, literature. It was how I found out about Sunlight, and fell in love with the concept.
And last but not least: I decided to use an OC because she had such a strong personality I needed to give her a name. If anyone is curious the faceclaim is a south american singer from the 70s called Gal Costa, so yaaay for poc charecter.
Anyway, I hope you guys like it!
#majorharry20k#harrry styles#harry styles fic#harry stykes fanfiction#harry styles blurb[harry styles blurbs#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#imagine 1d#harry styles blurb#harry styles blurbs
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Chapter 2. The British Inquisition
‘They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.’
F. Scortt Fitzgerald
It’s not that I didn’t like Harry. It was just his.... overconfidence, his relentlessness, his constant smug grin, his general aspect of brazenness - well, maybe I just didn’t like him. I didn’t like saying I didn’t like anyone, I had an honest belief that most people tried to do what they assumed was the best. Most often than not, their personality merely didn’t match ours. Like two puzzle pieces not fitting together. Not every single person should get along perfectly, and that is absolutely fine. I sure wasn’t intending on allowing it to put a damper on the work we had to.
Did I expect him to be there? No, I was surprised. I hadn’t seen him in years. It’s a small circle, being royal. You see people, can’t be helped, but Harry and I didn’t usually frequent the same places in our down time. He was a party-boy with a track record for hell raising, I was… well, a lawyer; an adult; let’s just say, someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in Vegas.
The way he tried to relate to me didn’t help. Not the casual flirting on the wake of his grandmother’s comment about his heartbreaker ways, which was simply confusing. Was he trying to prove her right or wrong? And which option was more freaky? No, it’s the thing he said after, about my cousin, when we were sitting in a procession carriage with his father on our way to Buckingham Palace
“I think I know your cousin!”
I smiled in response, politely. “Klaus of Luxembourg?”
“No. I mean, I think I know him, too… But I mean the other one.”
“Brown hair? Thin nose?” he seemed more confused, “Always smells of cigarettes?”
“Yes, that’s him.” He nodded. “We met at the Grand Prix in Monaco, I think.”
“That’s Adrien.”
“Great guy.” He said. “Always knew how to party.”
It made sense he would know Adrien, they were both party boys with no thought to future consequences. With one caveat.
“He has quieted down recently.”
Harry chuckled. “Yes, getting engaged will do that do a man.”
The thing about my cousin Adrien was that he had a great heart. Unfortunately, it used to beat a little too much to the sound of parties all over Nordic Europe. And Northern Europe. And Southeast Asia. Everywhere, really. It became problematic for my family to have to track him around the globe to make sure he wasn’t about to do something scandalous in nature. There is no room for individuality or self-exploration in royalty; one mistake, even by a cousin who is not really going to be king, is connected to us all. All that is to say, we were all very happy Adrien had finally, officially gotten engaged to his long term girlfriend, which made him more predictable and reliable. So hearing from one of his old party buddies that said life change was somehow negative didn’t really warm His Royal Highness in my regard. Still, I was prepared to be professional.
“And, of course, I know your brother as well.”
“Edinburgh University is a fine institution.” His father added. “He’s acquiring a master’s degree, I understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what is his intention with it?”
At this moment a chuckle came from his son.
“To stay away from Savoy, I’m sure.”
“Are you, sir? What gives you that impression?” I asked, a lot harsher than I had meant, feeling my heartbeat in my throat at the sound of an implication. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Harry.” His father warned, still politely. “Will you please be quiet for once?”
“I was only kidding.” He shrugged, quickly.
Still, though the moment scared me, I was still prepared for a successful trip.
And then the questions started.
It started with:
“I’m sure it’s not your first time in the U.K., is it?”, and when I told him that of course not, I visited my brother often enough and came with friends in the past, he wanted to know “Where did you grow up?”, to which I replied, not without some sass, “I thought it was obvious, sir, I’m from Savoy.” Not one to be deterred, he explained he meant if I was raised in the countryside or capital, or if I had gone to boarding school (mostly countryside until my father became king, then boarding school in Belgium).
I wanted to merely avoid him, of course. But being the spare of the King I sat next to him - the spare of the heir - at luncheon, and so it was unavoidable.
It feels redundant to explain, but growing up in this world means a saturation of things that aren’t common knowledge to the regular civilian, so explain I must: A ‘spare’ is the term designated for secondary children, the ones who aren’t direct heirs. So when it comes to heirs to the throne, or monarchs, for centuries it was advised that they had one heir to inherit the throne, and at least one ‘spare’, one extra child, who would be available in case something happened to the first one. Which, in those days, was often. After the gift of penicillin and vaccines, spares became more of a commodity than a necessity. A trading card to negotiate with other kingdoms for political power. An arranged marriage here and there, a good dowry to a second child, turning an otherwise useless daughter into a queen consort for another country’s throne.
In the twenty-first century, us spares were… well, even more useless. Monarchies as a whole lost much of their power, and so the spare’s job is no longer to secure the throne stays in the family in the case of a fatality, but only to support the monarch and future monarchs as much as they - as much as we - can.
So it was natural we were sat together. Though his father was still the heir, he would be king soon enough. So his spare - Harry - was expected to chat-up my father’s spare - me. I don’t think, however, that it had been anyone’s intentions for him to chat me up that much.
I had spent some time admiring the room, it wasn’t a full on banquet room, but a smaller, dining room, with pink arabescos prints on the wall and kings and queens painted inside gold frames hanging from the ceilings, when I realized I hadn’t actually talked to Harry in a while. Thinking he may have been timid after his father’s warning in the carriage, I decided to take the first step. I was nothing if not professional.
I should have known it would be enough.
“And where did you go to school, sir?”
He looked at me, seemingly surprised and a bit caught off guard.
“Oh, ah, Eton. Eton College. Berkshire, not far from Windsor.”
I nodded, as though I knew where Berkshire or Windsor were exactly.
“And, uhm,” he went on, the red cheeks transforming into a small smile, “you don’t have to call me sir. You can call me Harry if I can call you Mary.”
I grinned, resisting an urge to roll my eyes.
“It’s Marie.”
“Marie”, he repeated, forcibly, with a French accent this time. “Please, call me Harry, Marie.”
I shrugged, trying to hold in a sigh at the forced ‘rr’ sound when he said my name, “force of habit.”
“What did you do after school, Marie?”
I looked at him. “After?”
“Yes, did you play any sports?”
“Oh. I played some polo. Volleyball.”
A couple of seconds went by as his smile grew more knowing than polite.
“And what did you actually like?”
And, see, it was that kind of presumption that made him just a little… infuriating. The smile that accompanied the presumption - almost unbearably charming - didn’t help his case, either.
”What makes you think I didn’t like those sports?”
He took a sip of his water, still smiling in a way I could, inexplicably, almost feel.
“Did you?”
“I hear the Crown Prince will be finishing his studies soon.” His grandmother put, to my father, before I could figure a way to answer him.
“Yes, he, uhm,” Father pondered, “He is very diligent with his academic career. We’re so proud.”
I suppressed a roll of my eyes by staring at my plate.
The Duke of Edinburgh nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be a relief to have him back in the country.”
“Margueritte has been a great help. But it’ll be nice to have him home again.”
I smiled graciously at them before downing my water, hoping the conversation would have moved on before I had to join it.
After the meal we were guided to the gallery, where Her Majesty proudly showed us some Savoyen relics that the British Royal family had accumulated over the years, as well as their entire collection.
There, the British Spare wanted to know if I liked art (of course), if I had taken any course about it on Uni (a couple more and I could have minored in it), and told me all about his own feelings on the matter.
“Like what you see, Marie?” He asked, on a whispered low baritone, when I stood in front of a painting of himself and his brother, leaning against a doorframe. He was pronouncing my name wrong again, as ‘Mary’, just placing the stress in the last syllable.
Instead of staring at him in disbelief, however, I took a deep breath and kept my eyes on his painted face.
"Masterful work. Wonderful physiognomy, even if your right hand looks a little crooked... and small."
"My-?" He asked, confused, removing his arms from where they had been, connected behind his back, and staring at his own hand. "My hands are not small."
Pleased with the unsettled displeasure in his tone, much more amusing the previous flirty intonation, I followed his eyes, seeing again whatever it was he scribbled into them in black ink. His hands were indeed large and, resisting an urge to touch them, or take some time to imagine what they would feel like on my skin, I focused on the painting again.
"The color in your hair was well captured, though it is depicted understandably bushier than reality."
"Okay." He rolled his eyes, now, as I watched satisfied the corners of his lips slowly curl up in a grin. “That’s an old- it was a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry yourself, sir, it happens to a lot of men. I’m told it’s very natural.”
“Okay!” He let out a silent laugh; interestingly, this time the grin it left behind did not unsettle me, though it did make me feel victorious somehow.
“Do you remember when we had to actually sit through these?” The Prince of Wales asked my father. “Are you old enough to remember that?”
My father laughed, delighted, “I am, yes. I once had to sit in a hot summer day in full military costume, a replica, of course, I was a child. And the mosquitoes just had a feast that day, because I was not allowed to move!”
They laughed, “Nowadays the children sit for a photograph and that is it!”
I looked over at Harry, hoping to see my own exasperation at the exchange looking back at me, and I did. It was accompanied however, by a softness in his eyes and smile that made me feel weirdly seen. As if he knew a secret I was hiding. It felt unsettling. So, leaning over, I said,
“I hope the painter signed a good NDA.” To which he laughed, now more loudly than before, looking back at the painting.
There, I thought; this feels better.
We were ushered into another room, brightly lit and artfully decorated where we were served tea. I had been telling the Duke of Edinburgh about my focus on senior citizens’ aide when he approached again. And that’s when it got kinda weird.
“Did you have a good relationship with your grandparents?”
“Something you want to get off your chest, Harry?”, his grandfather asked. “I can step away if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
The Duke laughed at his own joke, and I tried to suppress a smile.
“No, grandad, I’m just- just making conversation, it’s all.”
He then looked at me, expectantly, and seeing as his grandfather did the same I saw no way out other than to answer, “My great-grandmother is still alive, I have some wonderful memories of her from my childhood. And my grandparents, on both sides, are of some age, but still very present in our lives.”
“King Philippe” His grandfather nodded. “Well, Prince Philippe now, I presume, after he abdicated in favor of your father? Wonderful fellow. Still owes me some money from a poker game from a Tour of Savoy I did with the Queen in 1991.”
“Really?”
“How much money, grandad?”
“Oh, that’s between the both of us.” He looked at me, then. “Do tell him I’m expecting it.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Don’t involve Mary in your weird, borderline undiplomatic shenanigans.”
“Marie!” The Duke corrected for me, rolling his eyes. “And look who’s speaking... You didn’t see me preaching when your shenanigans ended up in the cover of The Mirror.”
“Grandad.” The prince exasperated. But, hearing me laugh, he smiled a little more comfortable. “First of all, yes, he did so.”
“I did?!” The Duke exclaimed, aghast, but Harry was now whispery, looking around suspiciously that we weren’t overheard.
“You lecture everyone!”
“Oh, nonsense.” He then turned around, aiming for his son across the room, sharing a couch with the Queen. “Your father will clarify this.”
Harry was shaking his head, eyes shut, but an amused grin rested on his lips. It was… not a bad sight; a thought which may be why I felt myself blush so furiously when he opened his eyes to look directly at me, and I felt like I was doing something wrong again.
“Oh.” The Duke of Edinburgh had returned, apparently with one last thought, and now leaned in to ask me on a stage whisper, “What are your favorite flowers, Ma’am?”
“My-?” I took a second to think on it. “I suppose daisies, sir, after my name. But I don’t really have a favorite. I like… all flowers. The more colorful the better.”
He seemed momentarily intrigued by the answer, then nodded, thoughtfully, before looking at his grandson as if for confirmation.
“May I ask why?”
He smiled at me, dismissively, already walking away again. “Oh, just trying to simplify my grandson’s life. He ought to know what flowers he should get when he inevitably sends your some.”
“Grandfather!”
But the Duke merely waved at Harry, back turned, and continued to walk away from the awkwardness he left behind.
“Good God… I’m sorry.” Harry looked around, searching. For what, I couldn’t be sure.
I just nodded, affording him a chuckle so he knew there was no harm done. Then, simply because I couldn’t exist in the silence anymore, I walked over to the tea table and found a coconut biscuit.
“He is… retired.”
I bit a piece of the cookie as fast as i could, making it impossible to have to join Harry back into the awkward moment he was so clearly still inside.
“I haven’t… things haven’t-” He sighed. “I suppose he thinks I need… help.”
“Tennis.”
“Pardon me?”
I turned to him. “At lunch, you asked which sport I actually liked. I really like tennis.”
He stared for a prolonged time, but the redness that had taken over his cheeks and neck began to diminish. Still, I felt mine bright and angry. I suppose I just didn’t want him to tell me what kind of help his grandfather seemed to think he needed.
“Individual sport.” He nodded. “Shy, Mary?”
“I see we’ve gone back to Mary.”
“You’re free to call me Harry. I like having a nickname for you.”
“It’s… not quite a nickname. Just my name, but wrong.”
He smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I shrugged, non-committal. “I guess I just dislike the pressure in team sports.”
“Hm.” He seemed intrigued.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that. I think I do. I just wonder if that’s all there is to it.”
I had another question ready, but refrained from it, looking away; his smile grew bigger.
“Go on, ma’am. What have you got to say?”
I let out an incredulous chucke. “Why do I have the impression you are playing a game with yourself to see how fast you can make me lose my composure?”
He shrugged. “I am, a little bit. Seems easy enough, since you don’t seem to like me, for some reason. But I’ve begun to see that is a losing battle.”
“Good.”
“Is it?”
“To me? Yes.”
“I’m not so sure it is.”
I downed the rest of the coconut biscuit to stop myself from arguing further, but he kept staring at me the entire time, which was unnerving.
“Am I right?”
I took my eyes from the others to look at him, again. “About what?”
“You don’t seem to like me very much.”
I gave him a polite smile. “I don’t see why you would think so.”
He grinned. “That’s not a no.”
“You seem nice.”
“Oh.” He put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes. “Please, Mary, calm down, or I might burst with such loud endorsement!”
I laughed, contradicted. Harry remained silently watching me, so finally I sighed and looked out the windows overlooking the mall.
“You don’t seem to remember, but we have actually met before.” I confessed, to his confusion.
“We… have. I thought you wouldn’t remember it.”
Now, however, I was the one confused.
I had met him exactly three times in the past. I was confident he couldn’t remember the first, the second was a birthday party of a friend in common where I’m sure we didn’t speak, and the third was-
“Royal Ascot.” He nodded. “A few years ago, actually.”
I nodded, slowly. “Right. That… one time we met.”
“Yes,” he smiled, seeming genuinely happy I remembered it, “I think it was the second day. I know my grandmother wasn’t there, because she would have known you were and would have asked someone to bring you over to us to say hello, but no one did. It was mostly me and some of my cousins. I think maybe my brother was there, too. He’s the one who pointed out your group to me.”
It was, if I’m not mistaken, a good three years before. He didn’t have a beard, then. I attended Royal Ascot because Louis, my brother, had recently moved to Scotland to attend University and had gone a couple times prior. Despite Harry’s impression from earlier, I do like polo and horses, and was interested. But when we got there, and Louis told us we should go say hello to the British, I had a horrible flashback of the previous time I had met Prince Harry.
“I did meet your brother a year before, I think? Maybe two. He was new to Britain, when he’d just started Uni, and so in Ascot I went over to say hello to him, but just as I got there, you… sort of, took off.”
I nodded, now feeling slightly… childish.
“Yes, I… I remember.” I risked a look over at him, who was biting his bottom lip.
“I thought maybe you’d looked at me before I arrived, and ran off because you didn’t want to meet me.”
He laughed, and I joined, somewhat awkwardly, knowing that was… precisely the case.
I shrugged. “I needed a drink, I think? I do remember coming back around and Louis telling me we had just missed you.”
“Yes, it’s okay, of course.” He added, quickly. “He said you had gone off with your boyfriend.”
He added the line so dismissively, and yet pronouncing the word ‘boyfriend’ so specifically at the exact volume so that I could hear it clearly, but still know he meant it to be a dismissive sentiment, that I knew, somewhere inside, that I was meant to address it. It was hard not to be amused. Instead, I just nodded, trying to bite my inner lip to contain a grin.
“Yes, Christopher.”
There was a pause. An almost comically long pause. He kept looking over at me, but I decided to just poured myself some more tea.
“And, uh… Is Christopher from Savoy as well?”
I took a moment to think on it before replying. “He’s French, actually. His family is, mostly. But he was raised in Savoy.”
He nodded, slowly. I continued to pour my tea, also very slowly.
“And uhm, what… what does he do?”
I suppressed a smile. “He’s a hedge fund manager.”
He let out a loud sigh, which could have been a sarcastic laugh, and as I finished pouring my tea, I looked over at him as I brought it to my lips, enjoying his reaction maybe a little too greatly.
I wondered, as I walked over to Cadie, if he would leave me alone now. Clearly, the flirtationship would lose its appeal now he thought I was taken. Guys usually only respected other guys, so perhaps he would keep his distance now that I wasn’t as interesting as before.
Cadie was standing by the door, in a corner with the rest of our traveling staff as well as some Buckingham staff. She smiled as I approached and spoke before I even asked,
“His security just sent an update. There was a… logistic delay, but they’re about half an hour from London now. He should be here in time for the Mayor’s ball this evening.”
I smiled at her, knowingly. “Logistic delay? They mean he forgot to pack until the last minute, don’t they?”
She smiled, but no reply came; she knew I didn’t need one, and I wouldn’t force her to incriminate her future king. Instead, she said on a low whisper, looking behind me,
“He seems to like you.”
I rolled my eyes at the wall, so no one but her would see it.
“He is one of the most annoying people I have ever met.”
“Is that why you blush every time he asks you something?”
I felt my own head snap at her direction against my will, “I do not!”, but I could already feel my cheeks redden.
Cadie smiled. “You’re allowed to move on, you know?”
I rolled my eyes at her, and was abou to reply when Auguste approached us.
“Ma’am,” he said, lowly and very menacingly, “I think your time might be more productive today if spent, perhaps, socializing?”
I sighed, and walked back to the tea table before I could give him the answer I actually wanted.
“Anything wrong?”, Harry asked, approaching again. “You look… annoyed.”
I wanted to say that was a common effect of his presence, but still, I merely smiled.
“Just checking if my brother is on his way; he is.”
He nodded, and looked over at our staff, who averted their eyes from our direction, though unfortunately, not quickly enough.
“Is that your handler?”, he asked, looking discreetly at Auguste.
I responded by giving him a quizzical look.
“Secretary? Assistant? Aide?”
“Oh, no. My father’s junior aide. He’s… he’s being trained to work with my brother after his… heirdom starts.”
“Heirdom?” He asked, amused.
“You know, when he graduates and starts being a proper heir.”
He nodded. “And why don’t we like him?”
“I like him.” I shrugged, looking resolutely ahead, still feeling him look at me, disbelieving. “He-”
I sighed, turning back around, to the window, hoping no one could see me.
“He seems to think I’m still a fourteen year-old child who doesn’t understand that daddy has a big responsibility I’m getting in the way of.”
Harry was quiet for a long time. A long enough time for me to regret telling him this, and to wonder if there was a casual enough way I could pretend I was joking.
“Does he not know you’re a lawyer?!”
I looked over at him, who looked the most confused I’d seen him all day.
“He does… how do you know?”
He shrugged. “Your brother, and Adrien… I don’t know, I heard it somewhere. Adrien once said you’re the smartest person in your family.”
I turned to him, now, fully confused myself. “He… did?”
“What, does he not seem like the type?”
“The type to puke all over the Christmas tree when he’s drunk on eggnog? Yes. To compliment people when they’re not around to give him credit for it? Not really.”
He laughed. “Oh, wow. Yeah… I’ll definitely be asking him about that… “
We let a moment pass in silence, and I noticed, somewhat joyfully, he hadn’t allowed the knowledge of Christopher stop him from talking to me.
“Hey, how did you know?” I asked, and one of his brows corked up. “That I didn’t like polo or volleyball as much as other sports.”
“Oh. Well… I suppose, because it’s a tour.” He shrugged. “And you being...” His eyes traveled down my whole body and back up to meet mine. “Perfect… ly-perfectly poised, and… and polite and professional, you just… you seem like the kind of person who would make sure to give exactly all the answers you’re suppose to at such an -- important job.”
I let my face contort at the sarcasm in the words ‘important’ and ‘job’.
“You don’t think our job is important?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which looked over at his shoes as he thought of how to answer me.
“So what was your favorite subject in school?” He asked, very deliberately chipper now.
I stared him down, unrelenting, matching his smile, until he sighed.
“I don’t think we’re ready for this conversation.” He said.
“When will we be?”
“When we’re friends.” He returned, quickly.
It was an answer he had ready and, although I felt I was expected to say that we were already friends, I respected his self-awareness that we weren’t. So I just nodded.
“I liked classics.” I told him. “In school.”
He nodded, looking me up and down. “I see that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do I have a face for Shakespeare?”
“Well, your name already sounds like you should be in Hamlet.”
“You mean Mary?”
He laughed. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“And what did you prefer in school?”
He shrugged. “Sports.”
“Hm.” I let out, looking away so he wouldn’t see my second eye-roll. But he still laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing. I also see that for you.”
“Do I have a face for sports?”
I shrugged. “You have the body.”
He raised his brows at that, and I looked away, suddenly realizing my own words.
“I mean-”
“No, no, Mary, no need to explain. I understand.”
His tone was so insufferable and his smile so knowing, and yet, somehow… I couldn’t help but smile.
“I think it’s your turn, now.”
I looked back at him. “My turn?”
“To ask me a question.”
There something benevolent about his tone, as if he was doing my favor by giving me a chance to change the subject.
I took it.
“Truth or dare?”, I asked, to his surprise.
“Really?”
“You told me to ask a question. That’s a question.”
He took a step closer. “What happens if I pick dare?”
I faced him, keeping my face as still and intense as I could. “Pick and find out.”
I suppose the half an hour Cadie mentioned Louis would take to arrive might have fit inside the long look he gave me; but in truth, I wouldn’t know how long I stood there as he looked at me.
Eventually, however, the loud laughter from both our families startled us out of the little trance we seemed to be in, and he cleared his throat, awkwardly.
This was when my father approached.
“Margueritte, your brother is arriving in Clarence House as we speak. It’s time to go.” He shook hands with Harry. “Thank you for having us today. We have to go receive my son who’s meeting us here for the rest of the tour.”
Harry smiled at him. “Of course. And will Christopher be joining you as well?”
I bit my lip to hide a grin, but my father seemed puzzled. “Christopher? You mean, our Christopher?”
“Our Christopher?” I asked my father, who sighed.
“You know what I mean… Christopher Ratté. How do you know Christopher, Harry?”
“We have common interests, apparently.”
“Oh, well, that’s... nice. I don’t think he’s in the country, however.” He looked at me. “Margueritte?”
“I wouldn’t know what Christopher is up to these days.”
“Yes, well, we’ll tell him you said hello if we do see him.”
As my father left to say his goodbyes, Harry looked at me.
“You don’t know what he’s up to these days?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrugged. “Seeing as he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
I might as well have told him Santa Claus was real and he was getting coal for Christmas.
He nodded, slowly, a few times as his mouth opened and shut, before he finally seemed to settle on, “Oh.”
Before I could turn away to say goodbye to his grandparents, however, he held on to my elbow, delicately.
“Damn, Mary, you could have said something.” He whispered, breathlessly.
I tried not to laugh, which was not an easy feat.
“You could have asked… you didn’t seem to have a problem asking anything today.”
“I didn’t want to… appear… invasive.”
This was too much, so I did laugh.
“Wow.”
“I’m glad you can laugh about it… does this mean I have permission to keep asking things?”
I sighed. “You didn’t seem to need permission before.”
He laughed, biting his lip.
“Sorry. I… It’s just- I don’t usually meet people who may… understand... What it’s like.”
I gulped. “What it’s like?”
He looked around the room. “What it’s like having to shape your entire life after… all of this, and yet… not to really have a role to play in it.”
I nodded, wondering if that’s all he wanted; someone to understand. Wondering if he did need help; or if Cadie was right.
“...Especially ones with a face like yours.”
“Aw.” I said, emotionless, deadpan, “you ruined it.”
I was going to turn away to go say my goodbyes to his family, but before I did, for reasons still unknown to myself, I turned to him again.
“By the way, Christopher wasn’t the only thing you were wrong about today…”
He was still grinning. “And what was I wrong about, ma’am?”
“Royal Ascot. That wasn’t the first time we met.”
--- --- --- --- --- ---
[A/N: Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you like it by liking this page or leaving a comment? It’d mean so much to me!]
#prince harry fanfiction#prince harry fanfic#royalfanficcollection#princeharryff#phff#princeharryfanfic#princeharryfanfiction#fanfic#modern royalty au#chapters#OPITCphff
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Alright babies, I’ve decided to put all my writings in one place so it’ll be easier for you to find them. There aren’t a lot yet but you’ve got more things coming your way. Bonne lecture!
* denotes filth
One Shots
Happy Anniversary*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry, lawyer!harry
In which you celebrate your anniversary in Harry’s office
***
“Don’t chuck me just yet,” he jokes, and you can feel the words said against your lips at the same time as you hear them.
You give him another quick kiss, giggling as you pull away. “Don’t worry,” you shake your head. “Not for another fifty years.”
“Make it seventy, will ya?” A sly smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Sixty five,” you deadpan. “Give or take.”
He’s chuckling as he lets one of his palms slide up your leg, the other running down your back, stopping just above your arse. His grins widen when he doesn’t feel anything else beside your work dress covering them. “You’re not wearing anything under this?”
“Not a stitch,” you murmur.
***
Good Morning Indeed*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
In which Harry and his wife is trying to sneak in a little quickie in the midst of the family’s morning chaos. Followed by 50/50 bread tantrums, wrestling a biscuit-hunting kid who’s set on having Hobnobs for breakfast and two stroppy teething babies. Fun.
***
She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper.
Great.
“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.
“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”
I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”
“Sshh, keep your voice down.”
“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.
“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.
“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”
“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”
“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”
“PORRIDGE.”
“I’M NOT A BEAR!”
Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.
***
Drs Styles*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry, doctor!harry
***
“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”
I can’t help but flashback to those days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.
“Well, I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would’ve been confusing then, wouldn’t it?”
“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being a Styles.”
“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”
“What?”
“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.
Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to kiss me. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.
“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”
***
Reconcile
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
In which nearly divorced Harry is trying to win his wife back. Oh and his bitter nine-year-old daughter.
***
“He makes her happy.”
“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”
“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”
“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.
“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.
“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”
Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.
But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.
“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.
I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”
“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”
My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”
“Which is?” He presses.
“That I want her back,” I mutter.
***
Reconcile II*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
***
There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage.
I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside.
Not yet. I need a moment.
These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns.
I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.
“Harry?”
I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“I should be the one apologising, Em.”
“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”
“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”
“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”
We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster.
“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.
“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”
Emma laughs under her breath.
“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife.
“He is.”
“That got legs?” I ask her.
“Possibly.”
“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”
“Harry…”
“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”
***
Stitches and Pucks*
tags: hockey!harry, boyfriend!harry
In which LA King’s best player (on and off the ice) has had enough scoring puck bunnies and is now whipped by the new team doctor.
***
“Let me drive you home,” I quickly say before she gets the chance to order a ride. Not sure why I did that because I certainly have never offered women a ride home without the promise of getting in their knickers, and I can assure you that I won’t be getting anywhere near hers tonight, but maybe I just don’t want this night to end yet.
We’ve been glued at the hip from the moment I bought her first drink, and three hours purely just talking with the same woman? That’s a record in my book. While I’m not ashamed to admit that I also like looking at her, honestly, to me that’s just an added bonus. I think it’s safe to say that I have never met anyone like her before. Granted, with most women usually there wasn’t much talking, but from what I learnt in just the span of three hours is that this doctor of mine is a hell of a lot of fun.
I swear she’s just a pure fucking joy to be around. Conversation with her is like a never-ending merry-go-round and she makes me laugh a lot. She’s bright and witty and she’s one of those people that knows no strangers. She can easily talk about anything from politics to sports even to crude jokes, and add on to that, she’s just so kind and inclusive that several times tonight I actually had to drag her away to one of the back tables so we could have a proper chat without the crowd around us.
“You don’t have to,” she gives me a hesitantly sweet smile.
“But I want to,” I gallantly insist as I turn and offer my arm to her. “Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”
“Well, alright then,” she smirks, her hand easily slides into the crook of my elbow. “I could save a few bucks.”
I roll my eyes and tease her, “didn’t take you to be such a skinflint.”
“Hey!” She playfully slaps my arm with her other hand as she laughs and I’m glad I amuse her.
No, seriously... I like her laugh.
There’s no doubt that she wants me, just as there’s no doubt that I totally want her. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on all night, and plenty of innuendo, but I won’t be surprised nor disappointed if she doesn’t invite me inside when we get to her home and nothing happens tonight.
We’ll get there, I’m sure.
Until then, I’m completely fine drinking beer, being her personal chauffeur, and getting to know her a little better.
***
Quid Pro Quo
tags: lawyer!harry, enemies to lovers
In which you can’t stand your colleague.
***
“I tell you what, this is ironclad,” you let out a heavy sigh as you throw the document on the coffee table in defeat. “Houdini wouldn’t even get out of this contract.”
“We need to adjourn,” Harry suggests, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Regroup tomorrow to get to the bottom of this with clear heads. I’ve got a trial at half nine but I’ll be done by noon.”
“I can’t rest before we figure this out,” you state stubbornly, pausing for a second to let out a yawn. “But you go home. I’ll let you know if I’ve got something.”
“No,” Harry shakes his head. “You have to rest. If you were to come up with something you would’ve by now.”
You feel a stab of indignation. “Are you saying that I’m not capable of getting to the bottom of this myself?”
***
The Law of Attraction*
tags: lawyer!harry
Sort of continuation of Quid Pro Quo. In which YN is using Harry to get over her ex, and well... he’s not complaining because she’s a damn good lay.
***
“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”
“Sorry- what did you ask?”
“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”
“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”
“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.
“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”
“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.
“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”
“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”
***
Did I Break It?*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
In which you and Harry share a glass of wine in the kitchen and enjoy scraps of leftovers from the kids while trying to figure out Year 3 maths homework. Followed by a giggly, quite realistic smut because some nights aren’t just meant to be, are they?
***
“Here, check your boy’s homework then,” you can’t help but grin as you slide his maths book across the counter.
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he mutters jokingly as he catches the book, and his eyes widen as he looks at the questions. “Whoa, equivalent fractions. Year 3 kids do that now? What ‘appened to number lines?”
You let out a hearty laugh. “I know right?! I’m pretty sure I did this in Year 5.”
“Okay, we’ve got this,” he rolls up his sleeves, making you laugh even harder, before tucking a pencil behind one of his ears. “Six over twelve is blank over ninety six. Fuck, what’s ninety six divided by twelve?”
“Now’s the time to use yer brain innit, big head?” You tease him this time.
“Oi!” He complains, trying to sound annoyed but the smile plastered across his face is hard to miss. “Be nice t’me.”
***
In Sickness And In Health*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
After the birth of the twins, Harry and YN’s marriage suffers.
***
Sometimes, when the frustration takes over, Harry can’t help but wonder if he could just confront her. ‘What do you want, really? Do you want to get a divorce? Just say it.’ Because he’s tired of feeling helpless. He’s tired of feeling like he may have a little hope one second yet having it crushed the next. But when he sees her, he doesn’t have the heart to.
She’s YN, his wife. He loves her and he can’t lose her.
***
Mess Is Mine
tags: dad!harry
A three-part story about a single dad Harry and single mum YN.
***
“Well, she’s named after me mum so she’s definitely her favourite grandchild so far,” Harry grins. “She’s basically Anya’s second parent, my mum.”
“Oh, I thought her mother is Russian!” YN exclaims. “I love her name.”
Harry’s grin widens as he shakes his head. “Thank you. No, my mum’s name is Anne and I want to name my daughter after her, but having two Anne(s) would be confusing. So I opted for another version of Anne.”
“That’s a really gorgeous name. Your mum must be very happy,” YN says as she tucks her hands inside her pockets because it’s getting a bit chilly.
“Definitely made her my mum’s favourite grandchild for sure. Well, she’s currently her only grandchild so that may change sometime soon,” Harry says proudly, grinning even wider. “I’m gonna be an uncle in a few weeks.”
***
Mess Is Mine II
tags: dad!harry
***
His eyes widen in surprise when YN giggles. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“What?!” He looks at her, surprised. “So you knew? All this time?”
YN is clearly having fun with this. “Knew what?” She asks nonchalantly.
“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t ya?” He says, his eyes twinkle in delight. “That I fancy ya?”
YN giggles again, folding her arms. “Well, you weren’t being very subtle but you weren’t straightforward either.”
“Tha’ a yes, then?” Harry grins, taking another slug of his wine.
YN smiles back at him. “That’s a hell yes.”
***
Mess Is Mine III*
tags: dad!harry, boyfriend!harry, husband!harry
***
YN is still in her bathrobe when he steps into the bedroom, smiling through the mirror at his reflection from the door. Her hair is done and she’s just putting the last bit of some make-up before she slips into her outfit for the night. Her black lace jumpsuit is ready on the bed, waiting for her.
Harry is still standing by the door, staring at her intensely. He folds his arms across his chest, not a word comes out of his mouth.
“You gonna stand there and gawk at me all night or are you coming in and help me get into my outfit?” YN smirks at him through the mirror.
***
On S’envoie en L’air?*
tags: husband!harry, dad!harry
In which a little mid-day quickie and cockwarming on the balcony are involved during their family holiday to Côte d’Azur. Plus Harry teaching his little boy to swim.
***
“On s’envoie en l’air?” Harry whispered, still standing between your legs as you sat on the edge of the tall bed. You let out a little chuckle. “Wha’?”
“Nothing. S’just your three year old speaks better French than you,” you teased him and he tickled your sides, earning a burst of giggles from you. “It’s true! I swear you only know three sentences; going to the cinema with your family and friends, how to make a coffee this delicious and sh-”
“Shall we ‘ave a shag?” He cut you off, finishing your sentence. A boyish grin plastered across his face as he continued. “Think we shall, hmm?”
***
Half A Heart
tags: dad!harry, husband!harry
In which Harry’s new album is stressing him out and he lashes out at the kids and his wife.
***
Both you and Harry were stubborn and it seemed that your three years old got that gene. She sighed heavily and tugged on the hem of Harry’s shirt to get his attention. “But, dad-”
She stopped mid-sentence because Harry startled her. He huffed loudly in annoyance and turned to her. His face was stern and it might be the first time in her three years of life that the little girl was scared of her daddy. “Eleanor, what did I say?!” Harry questioned her, not even bothering to use a term of endearment which was strange for him.
***
Half A Heart II
tags: dad!harry, husband!harry
In which Harry tries to make amends with his wife and kids.
***
“Love, don’t say that.” He begged you to stop. He couldn’t hear more of that coming from you.
“No, don’t love me and I will say whatever the fuck I want to say.” It’s rare for you to curse so when you do, he knows that you’re really upset.
“You know it isn’t true.” He spoke lowly. “I didn’t mean anything I said.”
You seethed. “No, I don’t know. I hope it isn’t but I can’t shake the thought that it might be true. The way you said it, it was just very conv-”
Harry cut you off. “It isn’t true. Please don’t let that idea get into your head. I was a complete twat, I didn’t even know what I said. M’sorry.”
***
A Bit Of Singin’
tags: dad!harry
In which Harry’s little girl being extra clingy before her daddy’s show and ends up running to the stage.
***
Suddenly you wanted to sneeze so you let go of Charlotte’s hand to cover your mouth and nose. And what a big mistake that was. Charlotte immediately ran to the stage. You and George tried to catch her but that kid was fast. One of the crews who was standing near the stage managed to catch her but she screamed from the top of her lungs, “NOOO! I WANT TO GO TO M’DADDY!”
The song just ended so the arena was silence for a second, only Charlotte’s screaming was audible. Harry turned to look at her, shaking his head as he laughed. “Alright, alright, c’mere.”
The crew let go of her and she ran up to him immediately. Harry knelt down and opened his arms, pulling his baby girl into his chest before standing up and went back to the middle of the stage. “Y’just can’t wait can yeh?”
***
The Kitchen’s Closed
tags: dad!harry, husband!harry
A little Father’s Day special in which YN gives Harry a vasectomy appointment for his Father’s Day present.
***
“Do we really have to go?” Harry paced around your bedroom anxiously as he waited for you to get ready. The babysitters—yes you always hire two at the same—would arrive soon.
“Yes we do,” you tried to stifle your snigger. “It’s a really simple surgery, Harry, won’t take longer than 20 minutes.”
“Think m’balls know what’s going on and have gone into hiding,” Harry mumbled nervously. “They seem to have retracted into my body.”
“Your balls are fine, H. I’m sure they’re still there,” you snorted in laughter, shaking your head.
***
Baby Steps
tags: dad!harry, husband!harry
Harry and YN takes baby lad to the park to teach him to walk.
***
“Jeez, you’re such a mum.” He teased.
You rolled your eyes. “Well yeah you knocked me up.”
“Aye, that I did.” He cackled.
After you fed baby lad his snacks, Harry taught him to walk by holding his hands above his head, letting your baby set the pace and direction. The sight in front of you was really heartwarming.
“Where’s mummy? Should we walk to mummy?” He looked down to your baby and your baby flashed a grin, making the two bottom teeth and the newly popped two upper teeth that were responsible for your lack of sleep two weeks prior fully visible.
***
Mates*
tags: bestfriend!harry
Can Harry help his best friend to forget her ex?
***
“Morning mate,” greeted the man before he took a sip of his coffee.
Harry mumbled in response before it was cut with a yawn. “Mor- whoa,” he raised his palm to make a stop sign, and continued after he finished yawning. “You don’t live here.”
“Uh,” awkward silence filled the kitchen. “I don’t.”
“What are you doing here?” He knew it was a stupid question, but that somehow didn’t stop him from asking.
“Er, uh,” the guy looked down at his mug for a second before he answered. “Visiting.”
“Visiting what? My roommate’s uterus?”
Blurbs (or concepts or drabbles... you name it)
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#masterlist#Harry Styles#harry styles imagines#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurbs#harry styles concepts#harry styles drabbles#dad!harry#husband!harry#boyfriend!harry#fiance!harry#jamaica!harry#instagram prompts#tfln#text from last night#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#talesofstyles
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Pardon Me
Once Donny comes to terms with the fact that he’s a lame duck, he’s going to issue a metric shit ton of pardons to all of his co-conspirators followed by himself. Now, Richard Nixon sought a corrupt bargain in which he resigned and had his successor pardon him, presumably in the belief that he did not have the power to pardon himself, but we all know or a fact that Trump absolutely believes he has that power. He will not hesitate to pardon himself, and it will be very telling to see the exact period of time he issues the pardon for. In Nixon’s case, President Ford gave him a sweeping pardon for any and all crimes he committed, may have committed, or may have taken part in, throughout his entire presidency, from January 20, 1969 to August 9, 1974. When Trump pardons himself, it will be interesting to see how far back he goes; will he give himself a full pardon just for his presidency, or are there some earlier crimes for which the statute of limitations have yet to expire?
All the Constitution has to say on the matter is that the president can issue pardons for federal crimes “except in cases of impeachment.” A conservative Supreme Court Justice, of which we now have 6, would interpret this to mean that so long as a president was not formally impeached by the House of Representatives for a given crime (or if we’re being super conservative, they could have been impeached but acquitted by the Senate), then they can pardon themselves for it. This would mean the president is above the law; that statement is de facto true as it stands, as no president has ever faced consequences for any actions in American history, but to clarify that it is de jure true would be devastating because it would allow any president to commit any crime without fear of consequences. By pardoning themselves before they can be formally impeached, they can get away with any crime scot free.
Of course, if Trump pardons himself there will be a long protracted legal battle over whether that technically violates the constitution, and the Supreme Court would finally have to weigh in on the matter. On the one hand, the conservatives generally interpret the Constitution in a very literal sense, meaning that if a right is not explicitly written down then it is not protected while simultaneously saying that if a power is not explicitly forbidden than it is absolutely permissible. They play both sides like the crooked lawyers they are, saying “it’s not technically illegal,” even if it clearly violates the spirit of the document. Slavery is not technically illegal; the 13th amendment allows prisoners to be sentenced to slavery, we just don’t call it that anymore, so nobody bats an eye. No amendment exists to limit executive power, so executive power is potentially limitless under a corrupt enough Supreme Court.
On the other hand, conservative Justices may not want to set the precedent that the president may pardon themselves, because they won’t want the incoming Biden administration to take that as a blank check. Of course Biden is nowhere near as corrupt as Trump, and were he to commit such a pardonable offense he would probably pull a Nixon and resign so President Harris could pardon him instead; he’s not the sort of person who would pardon himself even if he had the power to do so because the shame would follow him forever, whereas it will never follow Trump. Trump has no shame, he believes in no social norms but those that benefit him personally. No one within his party would ever try to blacklist him for pardoning himself; in fact, they would double down in support of his self-pardon, calling it an incredibly smart political maneuver while simultaneously calling any future instances of self-pardon by the Democrats as corrupt and vile.
Republicans always get to have it both ways.
#pardon#pardon me#ford pardons nixon#ford#nixon#trump#trump pardon#fuck trump#presidential pardon#crime#criminals#federal crime#federal crimes#federal offense#biden#harris#constitution#the constitution#constitutional crisis#amendments#amendment#scotus#supreme court#judicial branch
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📚 Drunk in Love (last thing I remember) by @lovehoperomance
He’s stumbling to the left of the street, hopeful that it’s in the direction of his flat, when he sees it. A food truck. Lit up in gold. It's as if God has taken a giant highlighter and drawn a halo around it. Okay, so it might be the streetlight shining down on it and the yellow light emanating from within...but Louis will still claim godly intervention if anyone asks.
He weaves across the pavement, shivering in what he now realises is a very brisk London evening, coated in fog.
“Hello. Hi.” Louis steps in front of the entire line, waving an aimless hand at the man in the truck who looks completely bewildered by Louis’ antics. The man is littered in tattoos and wearing a green headscarf that matches the sea foam of his eyes. “Do you have any fried chicken? Or a drink? Oh, oh, do you have chips? Oh please tell me you have chips?”
The man’s face, which Louis faintly registers is quite angular, shifts from bewilderment into a stunning, slightly crooked smile.
Or, the one where Louis wakes up, naked, in a stranger's bed and has no idea how he got there. Maybe it's foul play. Maybe it's just the kindness of a handsome stranger amused by his drunken antics.
🌹 Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy by @chloehl10
Harry whimpered as Louis pushed himself up onto his tiptoes, grazing his ear lobe with his lips. His breath tickled Harry’s ears, and Harry swallowed, already anticipating what Louis was about to say.
“I’d like to ride you, cowboy…”
Or, Harry's a barman at Flaming Saddles, a country and western themed gay bar.
Louis’ a customer who’d like to see if the tall barman is as good on the ropes as everyone says he is...
📚 And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2
I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.
Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.
At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…
Unless one of them dies.
Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.
🌹 I’ll Fly Away by @vintage-harry
“Harold,” Louis spoke, but not too loud. He didn’t want to startle the cat pile.
“Louis? What are you doing home?” Harry greeted him with a toothy smile.
“Why are there three cats?” Louis pointed at the third one.
“That’s Hail. He’s so sweet.”
Louis blinked and shook his head slightly. “Why is he on the sofa, in the house, on the cats?”
“He lives here now,” Harry stated as if Louis should already be aware of this.
He was not aware of this news until now. “Since when?” He poked the cat in the head, his tiny black curtained head with white ears popped up. He mewed softly before blinking a few times.
Louis thinks he looked offended. He looked at Harry expectantly. Harry looked fond.
“For three days now.” He smiled at Louis. It reminded him of Dori smiling at Marlin in Finding Nemo.
Or, Louis and Harry live in a small town in Texas of just over 500 people and Harry seems to be growing cats in his garden. Love and fluff.
📚 Baby Honey 2.0 by @vintage-harry
A few weeks passed by and Louis had spent a large portion of his time with incognito mode on as he Googled ways to hint at pregnancies. He came up with a few ideas but was impatient and felt uncreative at any idea. The most he read about was for online announcements. Louis decided one day while he was at Niall’s with two kittens laying on his stomach to take a photo and post it. He knew Harry would see it pretty quickly as he had Louis’ Instagram notifications on.
Louis held his phone out and took a few shots of the sleeping kittens on his stomach, thumbed through them and found the one he liked best and posted it with the caption, “Three little kittens” he hit post and waited. It didn’t take long, ten minutes later Harry left a comment asking where the third kitten was. Louis rolled his eyes and deleted the photo.
Or, Louis is pregnant this time and tries to find creative ways to hint about it to Harry. Only it doesn’t go as planned.
🌹 fuck fake friends by @artxghoul
It’s better to just stay away. So he does. He tries his very best to.
It’s just weird when you can’t be happy for someone. When you can’t encourage their achievements anymore, because they did it alone or with someone else, when it was supposed to be with you.
Harry was supposed to always be with Louis.
Or, if you love someone, set them free. if they don't come back, text them when you're drunk.
📚 The Daddiest Place on Earth by @chloehl10
dilfs_atdisneyworld: Ooh he's popular. Is it me or has it got hot in here? #dilf #hothothot #gimme
louist91: What the hell? Why the fuck am I on a DILFs page again?"
dilfs_atdisneyworld: louist91, Hello! You're on here because you're a DILF. A dad I'd like to f...😜
Louist91: dilfs_atdisneyworld Oh my god. Fuck off mate.
Or, Louis. Harry. Instagram. A whole lot of confusion and a whole lot of laughs...
🌹 Harry Poppins by @jacaranda-bloom
When Louis’ best friends pass away he finds himself with an instant family. Maddie and Thomas are wonderful children but take an immediate dislike to every nanny that sets foot inside their house. After nanny number six is summarily dismissed Louis is at his wit’s end, that is until an unusual man arrives on their doorstep. Harry Styles is like nothing any of them have ever encountered before, and perhaps, exactly what they’ve been looking for all along.
📚 tonight’s not over (come over and stay) by @microlouis
Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?”
Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password.
“No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?”
“Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis.
“Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?”
Or, harry is a famous singer and louis is a student who just wants to write his novel.
🌹 Fiction Romance by @rougeandtonic
Harry has a type.
He likes older, sophisticated, mature men. Well-educated men. Men with life experience and passion for arts and social causes. Men who are established in their careers, who've sorted their lives out.
Niall knows this.
And so Harry can't understand why he's sat here opposite Louis Tomlinson.
Or, a punk Louis/uni Harry blind date AU.
📚 Hope when the moment comes, you’ll say I did it all by SilverShadow1
Standing in front of them with an amused smile was an — there really was no other suitable word to describe him — angelic creature. Soft brown hair that was shaved on the sides and bright blue eyes that Harry had only seen in photos of the ocean; the lad was probably close in age to himself, yet seemed entirely boyish.
“Dad, put me down!” demanded Jess with no malice in her voice.
Harry looked down in surprise, forgetting that she was in his right arm.
“Oops,” he said, flushing. That caused the other lad to laugh.
“Hi,” said the man at the door.
Or, the one where Louis is a piano teacher and Harry and his daughter are goners for him.
🌹 Graphic design is my passion by @kingsofeverything
Graphic design student Louis Tomlinson has exams to study for and final art projects to complete, if it would stop raining long enough for him to walk across campus. Luckily Harry Styles has an umbrella, and he’s perfectly willing to share.
Louis doesn’t plan to get his heart broken and he doesn’t plan to make almost a hundred silicone dildos. One of these things definitely happens.
📚 i gotta get better! by @dystopianharry
Harry’s sex life has been pretty nonexistent since he broke up with his last non-soulmate boyfriend. after a chance encounter with someone online, he decides to enlist them to help him out. no strings attached, obviously.
Or, soulmates can feel each others’ pain and harry has some kinks he wants to explore.
🌹 Dreaming of You by @mizzwilde
The Begrudging Starbucks AU.
The world is winter and steamed milk and creamy espresso shots. The world is a never ending queue. The world is a Starbucks logo and a pink-cheeked smile from Niall and a bored scowl from Zayn and the world is Louis watching his best mate, Liam, fall in love with their newest customer, Harry. Who may or may not be in love with Louis. The world is cruel.
📚 Through a Mirror Dimly by @londonfoginacup
Louis Tomlinson, in his third year at university, does not expect nor want the roommate that is being assigned to his room.
Harry Styles, in his first year at university, has just been kicked out of one dorm and doesn't want to deal with yet another snobby, rich roommate.
They don't get along, and that's just how it is, until circumstances force them to reevaluate.
🌹 Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2
Louis stared at his luggage.
Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.
“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”
“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”
Louis continued to stare at the luggage.
📚 His and Mine by @kissyboystyles
Harry is adopted by a wealthy family, soon to be cleared of his connection to his soulmate without discussion on his twentieth birthday-- a gruesome rite of passage. For the past eight years, Harry has been staring at one name: Louis. But what happens now that his heart starts fluttering for a stranger, helping him remain strong at his weakest points? Harry feels he should be cautious; what kind of person goes by the name Tomlinson anyway…
Or, Harry legally isn't supposed to meet his soulmate-- he's rendered physically unable to recognize him even if he did-- but yet, of course, he does.
🌹 Drop to Hold You by @becomeawendybird
After the end of the Second Wizarding War and the ensuing diplomacy between Muggles and the Wizarding world, the long-defunct Merlin College at Oxford opened it's doors again.
The ultra-competitive programs at Merlin require a rigorous application process. None more than the Auror training program. Louis finally manages to get in with his best friend Liam after a few false starts, only to be faced with the most beautiful, distracting man he could ever imagine.
📚 The Lone Hydrangea by @lightwoodsmagic
“Thank you again,” he smiled at Harry as he picked up the arrangement and headed towards the door, and Harry quickly realised he didn’t know the man’s name.
“I – wait! Sorry, I just...what’s your name?” At the man’s eyebrow raise, Harry stumbled over his words, “It’s just, if you’re coming back, I thought I should…know.”
As the man looked at Harry, his smile only grew, and Harry’s heart thumped in his chest.
“My name’s Louis. Louis Tomlinson, and it was so lovely to meet you,” he shot one final grin in Harry’s direction, “I’ll see you next week, Harry.” And then he was gone.
“It was lovely to meet you too,” Harry whispered to the empty shop, putting his head on the counter, “Louis”.
Or, the post Hogwarts AU where Harry's a florist, Louis' a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other.
🌹 A Little Bit Like Fate by @28shadesofpink
“So,” Harry starts. “Since I heard you and your friend are not getting married, uhm... Would it be appropriate to ask you to stay for the kiss-in?”
“Really?” Louis says, light and playful. “And who would I be kissing?” He looks up and offers a sweet smile, perfectly innocent.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Harry is playing along, keeping his tone airy, but he takes a step forward and smirks. “With those cheekbones, I think you could kiss whoever you wanted.”
Or, Louis stumbles upon a kiss-in protest for LGBTQ rights, and he meets Harry. They click. It feels a little bit like fate.
📚 come together by @bottomlinsons
Harry and Louis slept together three weeks ago, and haven’t talked.
Their coming group project is gonna change that.
🌹 Seeing Blind by @that-idiot-overthere
Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”
Or, the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.
📚 Sweet as Cherry Wine by @harrieberrie
Broken hearts are healed by the luck of the Irish
Or, Louis and Niall are a mess, Niall’s daughter has a hopeless crush, and Harry is hopelessly clueless
🌹 at the end of my rope by @saffona
"Baby?” Harry mumbles, voice laced with sleep and a shiver goes through Louis at hearing the term. He hasn’t called him that in so long, in that voice and, clearly, even Louis’ body fucking misses it.
“Did you cheat on me?” Louis finds himself asking. If he’s being honest it’s more so he can see Harry’s reaction, than a genuine question, but what has he got to lose?
Sure enough, Harry’s face changes from sleepy to the most incredulous look Louis’ ever seen on him. He actually looks terrified, all wide eyes, mouth gaping like he can’t believe Louis would even assume that and Louis would laugh at it, but he’s so done with the way Harry’s been acting, he just wants to know what the hell’s going on.
Or, the one where they go to Crete and Harry is definitely hiding something.
📚 truth, justice, and the gay way by @hattalove
Liam needs a costume. Louis needs a best best friend award, a holiday, and to get a grip.
(Harry’s just in the right place at the right time.)
🌹 Hello My Name Is Harry by @a-brighter-yellow
Louis’s 20-year high school reunion takes a turn when a celebrity classmate – who also happens to be Louis’s long unrequited crush – unexpectedly shows up.
A famous/not-famous AU inspired by Chris Evans.
[Previous Monthly Recs]
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a man afront to all men
stevetony, strangers carpool from Boston to Brooklyn. A four-hour drive takes them 2 days because they get distracted. Amongst other things. strangers to lovers, one night stand, bastardised ‘when harry met sally’ au, 1.2k
for ‘road trip’, @iron-man-bingo
--
“Steve, this is Tony, Tony, Steve, try to New York in one piece, yeah?” Natasha perfunctorily introduces them, as Steve puts his suitcase in the back of Tony’s car. They shake hands.
Natasha never told him that her friend is hot, he has this whole ‘clean-cut’ boy look going on, blond hair, blue eyes and the shoulder-to-waist proportions of a dorito, but the way he tracks his eyes up and down Tony’s body says something else entirely.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tony,” he says, holding his hand longer than probably needed before he drops it. Tony will not blush goddamnit.
Natasha looks between them and rolls her eyes, before saying goodbye and going back to Clint.
“I’ll take the first 2 hours, we can take a pit stop, then you do the rest?” Steve offers, leaning against Tony’s car with his arms crossed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Tony almost feels sorry for the straining seems on his shirt.
“Sounds good,” Tony says, tossing him the keys and walking over to the passenger seat. He catches the keys one-handed and grins, swinging open the door and climbing in.
They’re driving from Massachusetts to Brooklyn for Steve and then Tony’s going on to Manhattan, Natasha set them up, both of them are fresh out of college, Tony ready to take over the company, with three PhDs and enough notches on his bedpost to make the thing fall down, and Natasha told him that Steve majored in art.
“So,” Steve starts as they pull out from the curb, “wanna play 20 questions?”
Tony gives him a look, shuffling around to prop his legs up on the dashboard. And if he knew precisely which pose makes his legs look downright R-rated, and if he does it right now then the only people who know that is Tony himself and Steve, if he notices.
“Sure,” Tony says.
The car jerks a little when Steve looks over at him, so Tony’s pretty sure that he noticed.
“Sexuality?” Tony asks, shameless.
Steve laughs and says, just as shameless, “Cute engineers.”
Tony grins and runs a hand through his hair then tucks his arm behind his head. “Oh, really, mine’s cute artists, what a coincidence.”
Steve gave him a dark, heated look, “I’m gonna pull over and suck you off, so if you have any objections, speak now.”
The blood rush from his head to his dick almost makes him dizzy. Steve pulls over into a hard-shoulder - thank god it’s late, Tony can’t handle another public indecency charge.
Steve twists himself, all graceful strength, turns out he’s far more flexible than he looks, and cups the back of Tony’s neck, pulling him into a kiss that’s all rough passion and heat. He breaks away to leave kisses down Tony’s throat that leave him gasping and moaning.
“I want you to know-- fuck--that usually I wait until at least the tenth minute upon meeting,” Tony groans out.
Steve stops what he’s doing, the pressure on his crotch disappears, as do the lips on his neck, “Do you want me to wait another five minutes for your reputation?”
“Fuck no”
Tony’s relatively sure that if he waits another five minutes, he’s going to die of blue balls.
Steve, thankfully, doesn’t wait.
“I am so… doing that… to you,” Tony pants, blearily, eyes closed.
Half his brain has just been sucked straight out of his dick, so forgive him if he’s not entirely there yet. The rest of his brain bluescreens when he actually opens his eyes and sees Steve; his lips are a swollen cherry-red, slick with spit and Tony’s come, his hair is a veritable mess from Tony’s hands and he looks entirely wrecked. If Tony hadn’t just had the most intense blowjob of his life, he would be hard again, just from the sight of him, and the newly acquired information of what that mouth, that tongue can do.
Steve thinks for a minute. “I still have a week left on my student accommodation, wanna go back?”
“What, can’t handle another hour?” Tony teases.
“Tony,” Steve says, looking straight at him with blown-out pupils, “if I drive for longer than five minutes right now, we’re going to crash.”
“Let’s go back,” Tony replies, grinning. He really, really wants his dick in him.
The second they get into Steve’s apartment, Tony’s being shoved against the wall, bracketed by Steve’s arms with his body pressing against his.
“You drive like a madman when you’re horny,” Tony tells Steve, in between kisses.
Steve groans and drops his head into the crook of his neck, “Next time I’ll go half the speed limit and stop at yellow lights.” He flits his fingers under Tony’s shirt, intent clear.
“I was stating a fact,” Tony says, far breathier than he wants to admit, “don’t want you to change.”
When Steve’s hands work their way up Tony’s torso high enough to brush his thumbs over his nipples, all thoughts of Massachusetts Road Safety and Law fly out of his mind.
-
“Hey, how’s New York?” Natasha asks, over the phone. It’s early morning, the call woke Tony up from a peaceful slumber in Steve’s arms.
“We, uh, never made it out of Boston.”
“Goddamnit, Tony.”
-
The second time they attempt the drive, the next morning, they get halfway before Tony drags Steve into the restrooms when they stop at a service station and drops to his knees.
“Told you I’d do that,” Tony says grinning, before he’s pulled into a kiss and Steve’s hand is making its way into his pants and he comes just like that.
They manage to finish the drive, mostly, when they get to Brooklyn, all it takes is for Steve to send him a look and he’s following him into a highrise and staying the night.
-
“We can’t be together.”
“Good morning to you too?”
Steve looks unfairly good for the hour. And confused just makes him look adorable. Which just isn’t fair.
“I live in Manhattan,” Tony barrels on, “you live in Brooklyn, you have things, and I have things.”
“That’s generally how life works, glad you’re catching up,” Steve says, no less confused, but amused. He moves so he’s sitting up, mirroring Tony. They really shouldn’t be having this conversation when he’s shirtless.
Tony lets out a frustrated noise that he didn’t know he could make. “No, just, look, I like you, you’re cute and very very good at sex, those are things I appreciate.”
“Well,” Steve starts, grinning, “Buck always did say I could turn to prostitution if art fell through.”
Tony absolutely does not get jealous over the thought of Steve having sex with other people. He doesn’t. He just thinks that he could treat the guy better than some lonely bugger on the street.
“Long-distance isn’t something I do,” Tony says, focussing on the matter at hand, and not Steve-the-prostitute.
“Okay. Do you do intermittent relationships?” Steve asks, genuinely curious.
“I think that’s the most lawyer way I’ve heard someone describe friends-with-benefits.”
Steve shrugs. The movement draws Tony’s attention to his shoulder muscles, which Tony didn’t even know he had a thing for, until him. “Intermittent relationship sounds better, whenever I’m in Manhattan, you’re in Brooklyn.”
Tony kisses him in agreement. And then some.
Tony ends up in Manhattan two days later than he planned, and he’s greeted by a pile of paperwork, an hour-long reprimand for the missed meetings and a new PA, but he has a new number in his phone and the beginnings of an (intermittent) relationship to make up for it.
--
iron man bingo masterpost
tell me what you thought?
#steve rogers x tony stark#steve x tony#stevetony fic#stevetony#stony fic#stony#iron man bingo#ironmanbingo3000#my fic#my writing
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Not so fine (Cissamione One shot)
Hogwarts doesn't have the only library in the wizarding world, of course. There's a library for adult witches/wizards when they're no longer students, which Hermione frequents. When she finds out she's gotten a heavy fine and marked "DELINQUENT" in their scrolls, she goes to apologize and figure out what she did wrong. As it turns out, one Narcissa Malfoy works there at the Hexes and Fines desk, and she is not inclined to be forgiving.
(Somehow asked by @rubikanon)
-peeks from above laptop screen- You know, this is the perfect time to mention that I tend to use the word “tease” not only related to the stories I write itself but for my lovely predilection of writing open endings in one shots I keep as one shots just because.
A03 Version
Walking briskly down Brompton Road, dodging groups of tourists and London-born groups of muggles and wizards, Hermione left Harrods behind as the biting cold of the last hours of the afternoon gnawed at her cheeks. Buildings rising at both sides of the street, the first lights already beginning to blink back to life, she refrained her compulsion on checking her wrist watch as she already knew she was twenty minutes away from finding the National Art Library, as muggles knew it, closed.
Growling inwardly, the young woman put her fists even deeper into the fastened coat around her body, the nervousness that had appeared inside her chest earlier in the day when a memorandum had arrived to her office with the words: LOAN DENIED- DELINQUENT, resurfacing again as she needed to almost duck and jump between two groups as she kept her pace down the heavily packed streets. No one on their right mind would walk during this time of the day on this side of London. An idea that assaulted her as she, finally, saw the corner of the building she had been so intent on reaching before the clock struck six thirty. Unfortunately, she truly hadn’t had any other option; deep as she was in the middle of a case for the Ministry she knew that there wouldn’t be any other time for her to look up the books she had requested to loan. Hence the sick feeling that had coiled around her stomach when she had received the notification of how she wasn’t supposed to be lend the books.
Shaking her head, the witch tried to recollect a time when she had forgotten to bring back a book in time. There had been some close calls back at Hogwarts, but she had always been able to put them back in time before Madam Pince asked for her head. Even after Hogwarts, she usually wrote notes for herself in the case her memory didn’t work. Which was the reason why the note had been a surprise, one she very well intended to fix. If she reached the building in time, of course.
Not quite jogging but half-way considering the possibility, the witch finally put a foot on the entrance of the building, extracting her right hand from her pocket and pushing the door open as she slipped inside. The scent of books, warm and recognizable, hit her nose just as the door closed behind her and, even with the anxiousness that had been eaten at her ever since the note, she couldn’t help herself but smile just slightly at what had been the only perfume for her during her formative years. And even beyond that.
Her moment, however, was short lived as her eyes focused on several wizards and witches that were mixed with the reading muggles inside the place. Their slightly widened eyes told her that she, again, had been recognized and despite how well Harry had learnt to pretend being comfortable on situations like this after ten or so years of the war’s ending, she herself hadn’t mastered that yet. Nor she understood why there were some who still gawked at her. Shaking her head and walking towards the counter in were two clerks were patiently seated at, she produced the enchanted card with her name and moving picture.
“Would it be possible” She began with a soft voice towards the obvious witches’ duo that glanced at her in some mild-annoyance the brunette suspected was learnt by everyone working on a library long enough. “to talk with someone from Hexes and Fines?”
The right witch from her wordlessly pointed at the open doors at the other side of the room, the ones Hermione knew were the ones that would led her deeper into the library archives and, also, the place was the mix of muggle world and the magic one came to a halt. Muttering a quick thanks that went completely unnoticed by the duo, she turned and walked towards the doors, taking long strides once she left behind the hawk-eye like gazes from the clerks and onlookers alike. Glancing at her clock, she saw that she, apparently, still had ten minutes to spare. Ten minutes she hoped to use in order to pay the fine and be able to pick up the books she had been denied before.
Her thought process reached a halt when she, finally, found a small dark-wooden door at the right of the hall she had been working, one that was definitely longer than it should have had from a muggle perspective. In the door, etched in white lettering, the words “Hexes and Fines” welcomed her just as she pushed the door open in a similar manner she had done mere minutes before. The small, square-shaped office that welcomed her was full with the same scent of books and dust that she knew by heart but the brunette still felt like taking a step backwards out of pure surprise when her eyes zeroed on the desk propped up the farthest corner of the room in where, surrounded by books and what seemed to be quite the amount of parchment and quills that were exquisitely organized, sat a woman Hermione had certainly never expected to see there.
“Mrs. Malfoy?”
The blonde, who had been reading something from quite the long parchment, didn’t startle -it would be unbecoming of course and Hermione had always had the hunch that every manner Bellatrix lacked Narcissa Malfoy had it in spades- but rose her head quite quickly as she let the parchment return to its previous rolled state with the flick of a finger. Raising one brow at Hermione as the twenty-something-year old woman approached the desk, her blue eyes bore into her, not amused.
“It’s Black now.” Her voice had the soft, cultivated accent Hermione recognized and, despite herself, the younger witch found herself blushing slightly as she was reminded of the divorce that had certainly shaken the wizardly world after the buzz of the Death-Eater trials had ended. Swallowing and unfastening her coat, letting the long lapels to fall limply and a peek of her Ministry-ready clothes glance from underneath, the brunette let out a hum.
“Of course, I’m sorry.” She muttered and some of Narcissa’s iciness disappeared at her answer. It being quickly replaced but something that Hermione couldn’t quite place even if hold a frightening similitude with Andromeda’s mischievousness from the times she had visited the older witch.
“How may I help you, Hermione?”
It was strange, the brunette halfway thought, to hear her name falling from the woman she had in front of her, the way Narcissa’s lips curved upward slightly, forming a lopsided smile making her avert her gaze for a moment, trying to find the words she had been rehearsing all day on her office. Words, however, didn’t seem so keen on coming out.
Over the years, there had been very few times in where Hermione had been left speechless, but she quickly realized that the surprise of seeing Narcissa Black working there, in one of the biggest wizardly libraries of London, had done the trick. Swallowing and grazing her teeth with the tip of her tongue, she re-focused on the woman again a part of her brain focused all that too much on how the blonde hadn’t seemed to even age a day. A thought a younger her wouldn’t have given much of a thought but her older version recognized as what it was. Something that didn’t quite help with the lawyer of sweat she felt beginning to form on the palms of her hands.
“I was sent a memorandum.” She finally started, and she winced inwardly at the way her voice was slightly shaky. Clearing her throat, she fished out the note from her pocket, the handwriting on the note glaringly obvious now as she walked even closer to the desk and placed the piece of parchment on top of the other documents Narcissa had been reading. “I believe there is a fine I need to pay… although I don’t remember which was the book I didn’t return on time.”
It was supposed to come out as light and soft, the sort of comment that Hermione knew was expected as a small talk, a detail of her own silliness. However, Narcissa didn’t seem quite that amused with the last part of her statement, her hands quickly reaching for her wand -still the same Draco had used, Hermione quickly thought, the dark wood as polished as the day she had last seen it- and letting the notice float back to one of the many niches and crooks Hermione could now see built within the walls around them. A veritable archive on its own.
“If I remember correctly.” Narcissa began, and nothing, from the smoothness of her voice, to the way she folded her hands in front of her made Hermione think she was doubting herself for a moment there. “You already returned the books a week later than they were due. You don’t need to pay a fine… but you can’t take more books until the end of the month.” Her blue eyes gleamed under the warm lights produced by light bulbs Hermione wasn’t entirely sure if they had been enchanted or not to make the blonde’s hair seem almost liquid as she tilted her head and the brunette needed a few seconds of open staring before she blinked, registering the words she had just heard.
“Am I being banned?”
Her voice rose in disbelief and Narcissa let out another lazy smile of hers as she rose her shoulders. It was quite surprising, the brunette thought, seeing the once all powerful Lady of the Malfoy house work in such a place with such ease but the witch wasn’t in the mood to stop and think on such details or the way the back of her brain had certainly picked on the black and blue tailored robes the older witch wore. Not certainly when Narcissa rose and, before picking the parchment she had been reading, she circled the desk, approaching the wall that stood a few feet away from Hermione, placing the parchment inside one of those nooks.
“Not banned.” She said, turning to look at Hermione, one brow raised and the light capturing the movement on her long hair once more. “But I’m afraid there is nothing you can do until the month ends. You are still able to come and check whatever book you may need of course. You simply cannot take them outside.”
The brunette could feel her blood turning ice as she took into the blonde’s words.
“That’s still a week away.” She muttered and Narcissa’s perfume rose to her nose as the blonde walked back towards her desk, leaning on it instead than taking the chair as before. “There isn’t…”
“Any other way?” Narcissa’s lopsided smile turned into a smirk in mere seconds, her eyes narrowing in a way that Hermione’s mind were unable to process. “I’m afraid that’s not the case, Miss Granger.”
The sudden change, the use of her surname instead of her name like she had done mere minutes ago, was more than enough to let the brunette know the blonde was certainly enjoying whatever mishap she had been responsible from by no returning a book she still hadn’t been informed which one had been. Bristling but still shocked enough for her famous temperament to still not take control of her actions, Hermione took a step closer towards Narcissa noticing that both of them were almost a similar height; the way Narcissa carried herself giving the impression of someone taller despite her petite frame.
“I need those books.” She said hotly. And it was true; she was in the middle of an investigation; she needed the books just as she couldn’t deal with a week’s delay. Her words, however, didn’t seem to move the blonde who, with eyes shinning almost like sapphires, ducked to her right, her robes grazing Hermione’s side.
“Come tomorrow.” She said with the curve of her smirk mellowing for a moment, just a second enough to make Hermione swallow, unsure and blaming her damned brain, her damned crush. “You will have all day to read those books. Here.”
“Miss Black.” She began but it was no use; the older witch was already walking towards another corner of the office, picking up a coat of her own as she did so.
“Tomorrow.” The blonde replied, and Hermione gritted her teeth before nodding and turned towards the door of the office; already planning on look into every paper, every book, every place on her small apartment and find any recollection of that book she had apparently returned late. She couldn’t afford not being able to pick those books and check them at work. And if she needed to do anything, everything, in order to make Narcissa Black cave… so be it.
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Chaos Theory Pt. 2
Pairing: Cedric x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, alcoholism and drug usage (mentioned), low key violence?
Word Count: 4644
A/N: okie dokie chapter two here we go! first, i want to thank everyone who has commented/reblogged/messaged me about Chaos Theory and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know via my inbox. To all my friends in AO3 town, thank you also for your support. Another note: I will be away over the next two weeks so I won’t be able to post the next chapter of Chaos Theory until then. However, when I do get back, I’ll post the next two chapters.
Chapter Two:
There is something pleasantly sweet about Cedric Diggory’s smile.
It’s gentle and unassuming; a perfect display of pearly-white teeth framed by soft, kissable lips. Sometimes, it reaches his eyes and gives off a warm radiance that you could bask in for an eternity. Sometimes, it tickles the corners of his lips in a subtle display of sincerity. But it always, always, has an effect on you that you can’t exactly describe.
You’re not sure if it’s because you’re drunk on adrenaline from the Quidditch World Cup or you’re just being sentimental, but you feel as though you’ve drowned a cauldron of amortentia and the potion bubbles frantically inside your stomach whenever Cedric so much as glances your way.
Your eyes can’t help but drift over to him like you’re a compass and he’s true north. At the moment, he’s laughing and chatting animatedly with the rest of your friends, but there are secret moments shared between the two of you where your gazes clash and linger with a sense of longing. You can’t help but wonder if it will always be like this; stealing glances at each other from across the room but neither of you taking the first step.
You hope that one day, you’ll be brave enough to break the pattern.
You decide to try and distract yourself by trying to soak up the moment. Most of the Weasley clan bar Mr. Weasley are gathered around a large fire and joined by Fred and George’s friend, Lee Jordan. The host, Cedric, sits between Bill Weasley and Harry, who looks a little tense around the shoulders. You’re about to get up and join them but your brother, Luke, playfully jabs you with his elbow and nods in the direction of your gaze.
“Like something you see over there?” His voice is teasing and condescending and the knowing smirk that goes with it jolts the itch on the inside of your wrist to life. You resist the temptation to scratch it, instead choosing to narrow your eyes on your brother.
“No. I was simply…observing the campfire.”
“Were you now?”
“Yes.”
Luke shakes his head, amused by your obvious attempt at a lie, “You’re lying.”
The irritation begs to be scratch, practically pleading for you to peel the skin back and plunge your nails into the flesh.
“No I’m not.”
Luke sighs in mock disappointment, “You truly are a terrible liar. I thought I taught you better…”
You work your jaw, “Might I remind you that you crashed our party because all of your friends are drunk and high, and you didn’t want to spend the night alone?”
Luke shrugs, his grin lopsided, “What can I say? They’re all lightweights...amateurs. And don’t change the subject.”
He wags a finger at you in the same way a scolding parent might, and you bat it away with a sigh. You roll your eyes at him and throw your arms up in surrender. Luke pumps a fist into the air and grins triumphantly.
“Why are you serpents always so perceptive?” You grumble, scowling at your brother.
“It’s a curse,” he chortles and shrugs, “Besides, that’s what future lawyers like me do; we perceive things and stick our noses where they don’t belong.”
You give a very loud snort, “That’s presuming you’re actually smarter than you look.”
Luke clutches his chest in mock offence, “That’s a low blow, even for you.”
You shrug through nonchalance, though you can feel Cedric’s eyes on you again and you have to fight every single cell in your mortal body not to look or you might as well turn into a pillar of salt.
“He’s looking at you right now, y’know,” Luke playfully nudges your shoulder with his own, “What are you going to say to him?”
“I...” you pause, realizing you’re at a loss for words, “...I don’t know–? I mean, what can I say, really. He’s him and I’m me and we both have responsibilities...especially since this is his last year and–”
“–wait, what are you talking about?” Luke interjects, brows knitted together in confusion.
You give him a quizzical look “It’s Cedric’s last year...”
Luke studies you for a long time, a familiar expression filling out his features. It’s the same look he wears when he’s piecing a puzzle together, or if he’s deciding whether something is genuine. You can almost see the wheels and cogs hissing and turning in his head, like you’ve peeled back his scalp and peered into his skull, watching the electrical currents scuttle along the network of synapses in his brain.
“Who–who did you think I was talking about?” You ask, slowly, in a voice filled with caution. Luke’s lips quirk into a smile, flashing a row of pearly-white teeth.
“Well–”
“-Luke, buddy, where’ve you been?” A slurred voice booms through the air, it’s owner emerging from the shadows shortly after. Caleb Jin stumbles into view, a crooked smile spread across his lips, “We’ve been looking everywhere for bro...”
He stops, realizing that Luke isn’t alone. For the first time since he’s arrived, he’s noticed you and your friends, and he gives a teasing, sarcastic salute.
“Ah, finally nice to meet the pretty one,” he winks and tries to smirk. It’s as appealing as a limp piece of celery. “Now all I have to do is meet the other three and I’ve met the whole set…”
“He must be pretty wasted if he’s referring to Hermione, Ron, Harry and I like we’re collectable chocolate frog cards,” you note, watching as Caleb begins to unbuckle his belt.
Luke winces, “Yeah…though I’m 66.6% sure he’s being serious.”
“What?” you bleat and Luke shakes his head.
“I’d...better make sure he gets back to his tent safely...” he murmurs, rising from his seat, “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”
You nod at your older brother and watch as he waves goodnight to everyone and saunters up to Jacob, slinging an arm across Caleb’s shoulders to support him.
“Bye, pretty one,” Caleb waves at you hopefully. You wave back and hear him cheering in the distance.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” you announce as you turn back to your friends, “Thanks for tonight…”
“Already?” Harry asks, somewhat disappointed in your decision to leave, “It’s barely ten o’clock.”
“Still, I better go. We’ve got a long trip tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll come, too,” says Hermione, climbing to her feet and walking toward you.
“Oh, come off it, Hermione, you’re probably going to go and read or do nerdy stuff like study,” Fred flaps a hand at her dismissively.
“And what’s wrong with that?” she snaps, hands planted on her hips.
“We should take you back to bed as well, Gin,” Bill interrupts, rising from his spot in the grass. Ginny folds her arms across her chest indignantly.
“But I’m not tired!” she moans, and Bill narrows his eyes on her.
“It’s late, Ginny. We’ve all got to get up early to make it back home in time for breakfast.”
Ginny turns to Charlie, pleading him with an imploring look. Charlie grimaces, as though he’s fighting the urge to concede to her wishes, “Bill’s right, Gin.”
“I thought you were supposed to be the fun brother,” Ginny grumbles as she stands, pushing her hair off her glowering face.
“Hey!” Fred and George exclaim in unison and Ginny waves a hand at them.
“I’ll walk you guys back,” Cedric springs to his feet.
“No need,” you blurt, your hurried response embarrassingly shrill.
“Oh, but I insist.” Cedric smiles, and the way it curls transfigures your spine into a strand of spaghetti. Your mouth flaps open to protest, but Hermione interjects before you can say anything more.
“That would be nice,” she smiles graciously, but the way it pinches the corners of her lips suggests that she’s scheming. You narrow your eyes on her suspiciously, and she shrugs innocently. Ginny stomps over to you and Hermione and Cedric leads you away from the campfire.
“It’s been a really lovely night,” Hermione smiles as the three of you stroll toward the Weasleys’ tent.
“It has,” Cedric agrees with another gracious smile (Curse him), “The game was thrilling and the company…” He glances shyly at you, “…well, I don’t think I would have enjoyed it very much without you.”
You notice Hermione and Ginny exchange a look and by the way Hermione’s shoulders tremble, you suspect they’re stifling giggles.
“Well I’m certainly glad I came,” you say, fighting back the warmth in your cheeks.
Cedric’s eyes linger on you for a moment, dancing between your eyes and your lips, “As am I.”
Does he want to–?
“Well it’s certainly made me realize why the boys love Quidditch so much,” Hermione admits, and you can hear a faint teasing tone in her voice, “It’s all rather thrilling, isn’t it?”
“Thrilling indeed,” Cedric remarks, “Never thought the Weasley Twins would predict the outcome of the game.”
“They’re smarter than they look,” you joke, “Though I think they learned their lesson.”
Cedric raises a brow, “And that is?”
“Never make deals with the devil.”
“Or someone just as trustworthy as they are,” Hermione adds, “Which is not trustworthy at all.”
A gentle laugh trickles from Cedric’s lips and curls in the air, “I suppose they had that coming.”
The conversation soon steers toward the upcoming year. You and Ginny exchanged a pained look, but before you can change the subject, Hermione has launched into a lecture about what she’s anticipating the most.
As she rambles, Cedric’s hand grazes against yours, long fingers reaching out tentatively to tickle the skin of your hand. Your heart floats in your chest as though someone had untied the arteries and veins attached to it and set it free. You imagine it drifting around like a helium balloon after it’s string have been snipped; lighter than air, ascending into the milky white clouds of heaven.
Eventually, you arrive at the tent. Ginny bids Cedric a curt ‘goodnight’ before marching into the tent. Hermione turns to you wearing a smile of her own.
“Well, Good night,” she smirks suggestively, her eyes flicking toward you and Cedric before she disappears into the tent. You and Cedric loiter in the awkward silence, wondering who will break it first.
“I really did mean it when I said that I was happy you came,” Cedric finally says, smiling, and you realize with a delighted thrill that it was more than just a compliment. It was genuine.
You chew your bottom lip, biting down on a goofy grin, “And I had no reason to doubt you.”
Cedric studies you for a long moment like he’s trying to draw the edges of your face on the canvas in his mind. His tongue darts out to slide across the cushion of his bottom lip and you wonder if he knows how handsome he is when he does that or if he can hear the blood rushing through your veins at the sight of it.
“You know, it’s nice to see you smiling again,” he finally says.
A wave of embarrassment drenches you in an uncomfortable warmth that burns beneath your cheeks as you recall the last time you saw Cedric. You remember the heat of the day; the air hot and sticky and sweetly perfumed with the scent of salt and butterbeer. Imaginary tears ghost over the rosy-pink skin of your cheeks and stain your lips with salt. Your hand moves to wipe tears that aren’t there.
“Yes I–I never did thank you for…what you said. So…thank you.” You stumble for words, your cheeks practically aching from all the bashful smiles.
“No need to thank me,” he smiles, “I’m just glad that you’re doing better.”
More awkward silence, filled only with the distant, drunken cheers of the Irish wafting over the campsite like a bad smell. You and Cedric shift awkwardly in the moment, eyes darting everywhere in a shy dance of will I? should I? before you shatter the moment with a quick nod.
“I should probably start writing my article,” you blurt, tucking a stray ribbon of hair behind your ear.
“Already?” Cedric asks, brows raised, “Talk about commitment…”
“What can I say?” you shrug, smiling, “Sleep when you’re dead, right?”
“I wish my teammates were as passionate about Quidditch as you are about writing,” Cedric says, eyes roving over you in awe. “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
You turn quickly and move to retreat into your tent but your feet stop in their tracks, hesitating outside the folds. And, before you realise what you’re doing before you can even talk yourself out of it, you’re spinning on your heel and turning toward Cedric, reaching up and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. It’s decidedly chaste since it doesn’t seem appropriate to snog Cedric yet, but the warmth of his smooth skin against your lips is rather intoxicating, and there is a moment where you want to move a few inches over to kiss his lips but you don’t.
It leaves more of an impression than you expected, and you watch as a bright pink hue stains the exact spot where your lips had made contact with his cheek, the colour blossoming like wildflowers in the spring. It’s an adorable boyish look, and you admire for the millionth time how handsome he is, even in the low light. Even when bashful and unprepared and surprised.
Cedric beams, and it looks like he’s swallowed the sun. “Well, er – see you in the morning?”
You nod, biting your lip as Cedric begins to walk backwards as though he can’t peel his eyes away from you, his expression fixed as though he’s in a trance. He stumbles unceremoniously into a tent and issues out a string of mumbled apologies, making you giggle.
Yeah, you think, your fingers moving to brush across your lips, the warmth of his cheek still ghosting over them, excitement bubbling up inside of you and bursting like a balloon filled with liquid sunlight, See you in the morning.
***
You’re not sure when you fell asleep exactly. Between working on your article for the school newsletter and the almost dreamlike night you had experienced with Cedric, it was a wonder you even slept at all. But your sleep is broken by two trembling hands shaking you awake, and you emerge from the cloudy greyness of sleep to find Hermione’s face looming over you.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“We have to get Mr Weasley,” Hermione whispers, her voice low, “We have to get out of here!”
“Why?” you ask, but then a scream pierces the air like the high-pitched shriek of shattering glass, and the heavy thrum of what sounds like a crowd of people tripping over themselves fills your ears.
Hermione gestures toward the tent’s folds, “Have a look for yourself.”
Yanking your nightgown off the bedpost, you wrap it around your pyjamas and poke your head out of the tent, your eyes widening in horror.
The campsite has been thrust into a world of pandemonium. Screams of terror cloud the air like a fog as stampede witches and wizards clamber past, retreating into the surrounding forest for safety. A large crowd of hooded wizards chases them into the wood, laughing and hooting as various bursts of light streak through the air like bullets. The air is thick and heavy with smoke and dust, rubble smouldering and tents burning.
Perhaps the worst part of it all is the four figures twisting and turning mid-air as though suspended by imaginary strings. The hooded wizards are puppeteering them into grotesque positions. Two of the figures are children.
Somehow, you don’t think you’re going to see Cedric in the morning.
You clamp a hand over your mouth as you watch the scene unfold.
“How cruel do you have to be to prey on children,” Ginny mutters darkly, gripping her wand tightly, “We have to help them.”
“No,” you snip, grasping Ginny’s wrist and yanking her back, “Us three against a crowd of wizards? Ginny, we’ll die. We have to be strategic about this…”
You release your grasp on Ginny and she turns to Hermione, whose brows are furrowed in thought. “(Y/N)’s right. The proper authorities will be here soon. They’re trained to do this sort of stuff.”
Fire rages in the dark depths of her chocolate-brown eyes and she forces out a sharp huff as though she were breathing plumes of smoke, “Well we can’t just let them torture those muggles!”
“There’s nothing else we can do,” Hermione says, composedly, “If we try to help them, we will all die.”
Ginny’s mouth twists into a thin frown like she wants to argue the point but doesn’t. Instead, she concedes with a curt nod of her head. Guilt twinges in your chest.
“For what it’s worth, you really are a force to be reckoned with,” you remark, giving her a half-hearted smile. Ginny beams proudly, “Just…remember to choose your battles wisely.”
Ginny perks up at that, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. Hermione glances at you furtively, a warm smile tugging the corners of her lips. The touching scene is interrupted by Mr Weasley as he bursts through the tent’s entrance, eyes wide and voice tainted with an unnerving tone of panic.
“Good, you’re up,” He notes, eyes darting between the three of you, “We need to leave. Now.”
The three of you follow Mr Weasley out of the tent and spot Ron and Harry standing close by, both of them just as horrified as you are. You rush up to Harry, and a warm feeling of relief sinks into your skin.
“Bil, Charlie. Take them into the forest and wait for me there. I’m going to see what I can do to help.”
Bill and Charlie nod as Mr Weasley hurries off. They lead the group of you toward the forest, and as you reach the fringe of the woods, you and the others turn back to watch the scene. A group of Ministry members have their wands drawn out and directed at the group, attempt to diffuse the situation with words, though it doesn’t seem like they’re achieving much at all.
You bite your lip, eyes scanning the crowds for Luke, praying to every known god that he is safe. You don’t think you could lose him, too.
“We should keep moving...” Ron murmurs to you and you nod. Hermione gently pats your shoulder, massaging into the tense muscles.
“He’s going to be okay,” she whispers, as though she had read your thoughts, “I saw one of his mates earlier. He’s probably with them...”
“Yeah, you’re right. He’ll be fine. He can take care of himself,” you say, trying to convince yourself that it’s true. Hermione takes your hand and leads you into the Forrest.
The four of you walk in a tense silence, listening to the worried murmurs and distant screams filling the air around you. The shadows of the night cloud around you like ravenous demons as you walk further into the woods, but you keep your hand in Hermione’s as she leads you deeper and deeper.
Your thoughts sprint through the events of the night, anxiety churning inside of you and awakening the itch on your wrist. What if Luke got hurt in all the commotion? Where is Cedric? Is Mr Weasley going to be okay?
Hermione squeezes your hand, as though she can read your thoughts. Behind you, Ron yelps in pain. You stop abruptly, Harry very nearly crashing into you.
“Ah, shit.” He mumbles and you squint at the forest floor, only just making out Ron’s lanky figure.
“What happened?” Hermione asks, anxiously, blinking through the darkness, “Where are you? Oh, this is stupid, Lumos.”
A narrow beam of light pours from the tip of her wand, lighting up the winding path. Ron lies, sprawled, on the floor, dry leaves and dirt sprinkled in his hair. You swallow the urge to laugh and help him to his feet.
“I tripped on a tree root,” Ron mutters, angrily. He dusts the dirt from his knees and Hermione picks the twigs from his hair.
“Well, with feet that size I suppose it’d be hard not to,” an oily voice drawls from behind you and rage surges through your veins like rivers of lava.
Draco Malfoy leans against a tree, his demeanour visibly taunting. He’s calm and composed, radiating the same, ugly energy that usually reeks off of him. You narrow your eyes on him and speak without thinking.
“Well you know what they say about wizards with big feet,” you glance at his feet and raise a brow, “And yours look kind of small.”
Ron snorts.
Draco’s nostrils flare.
In all honesty, you have no idea how big Draco’s feet are, but you’re satisfied with the look of offence and disdain that crosses Draco’s face.
“What’s that?” Draco cups his ear, “I can’t hear you from all the way down there.”
Ron steps forward protectively, “Fuck off, Malfoy.”
“Language, Weasley,” Malfoy drawls, his pale eyes glittering maliciously, “Or do you have to eat slugs again for you to finally learn your lesson?”
“What do you want?” Harry snarls.
“I’m just trying to find a good seat,” Malfoy shrugs, lazily, “Though you’ll probably want to hide the mudblood.”
“Shut your mouth, Malfoy!” Ron shouts, “Or I’ll have to do it for you.”
“That is the second time you’ve threatened to do so today,” Malfoy sneers, “Yet here I am.”
“Oh this is so pathetic,” Hermione snaps, “Let’s go.”
“The only thing that is pathetic here is you, Granger,” Draco spits, eyes narrowing like a snake eying its prey, “If you ask me, you should be out there with the muggles they’re torturing.”
“Oh, shut up,” Harry snaps, “You’re only saying that because you feel threatened by her superiority.”
A cold, metallic laugh splits through the air, lacking amusement and warmth, “Please Potter, who are you trying to impress with these two charity cases? Your parents? Because we all know how that’s going to work out.”
“Alright, this has gone far enough,” Hermione says, composedly, “Let’s go.”
“What’s going on here?” says a familiar voice, and relief fills you up like sea water.
Luke steps into the light of Hermione’s wand, and you launch yourself into his arms. He returns the hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, breathing into your hair. You hold him close, clinging onto him like you might crumble. He’s okay. Everything will be okay.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you murmur, eyes wet with unshed tears, “I can’t lose you, too.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do without me,” Luke teases, untangling himself from your embrace. His smile is loose but genuine.
Draco straightens, his casual demeanour shifting immediately. He’s nothing but talk, especially when a teacher or someone with authority arrives. And Luke is that person right now; a Slytherin prefect with an impeccable reputation.
“Draco,” Luke regards him with a simple nod, “I’ll see you at school.”
Draco nods wordlessly. As Luke and your friends move to walk deeper into the woods, you turn to Draco and stare at him curiously.
“What made you so cold and dead on the inside, Draco?” you ask, and Draco’s face falls. For once, he can’t come back with a retort, and you leave him staring into the darkness, completely speechless.
***
The walk home from the Quidditch World Cup somehow feels longer than the journey there.
You all walk in silence, too tired to even string a proper sentence together. You sluggishly trail down the road, exhaustion slowing you down as though it had hooked a rope around your waist and was yanking you back. You rub your eyes, stomach growling, limbs heavy as your mind sprints through the events of the long, chaotic night.
Through all of it, the Dark Mark still haunts your thoughts like it’s still looming over you like some sort of cruel god of pandemonium. The return of the Death Eaters has everyone on edge, as though their all denying a simple yet terrifying truth.
Fortunately, you had caught up with Cedric before you left. He promised to send an owl as soon as he arrived home. You would have liked to chat with him for longer if it weren’t for Fred and George, who tried to lure him into buying one of their ‘experimental candies.’
Harry gravitates toward you, his expression unreadable, “You alright?”
“Yeah,” you sigh through the lie, “Just tired. You?”
“Yeah,” Harry shrugs, “So…how did you meet Cedric…?”
The sound of his name jolts through you, and you suddenly feel more awake. “Oh, well, we met last year and we just…clicked.”
“Clicked, huh?” Harry echoes, though his voice has a slight edge to it, “That’s…good.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. Nice of him to walk you back to the tent, too.”
Your brows knit together as you study Harry’s expression, “Where are you going with this?”
“Nowhere,” Harry snaps, his voice cracking sharply like a whip, “I’m just saying it was nice of him to walk you back…”
“Well, he didn’t just walk me back.”
“I know–”
“¬–and why bring this up after the night we’ve just had?”
“Because–”
“–Because what?”
“You’re not giving me a chance to answer!”
“Well if you’d just hurry up and spit it out–”
“Would you two shut it? We’re nearly there!” Ginny interrupts, pointing into the distance. Ron and Hermione stare at you like they’re cataloguing your every move. They tear their eyes away and exchange a glance.
If you were less tired, you would have questioned them. Instead, you ignore them and turn back to Harry. He isn’t paying attention anymore, his mouth twisted into a frown as he glares at the Burrow. You can tell by his expression that he doesn’t want to talk anymore, and you cross your arms, deciding it’s better not to.
Picking up your pace, you catch up with Fred and George and the three of you chat lightly as you slowly approach the Burrow. It’s faint, but you think you hear a grumbled protest from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to find Ron, Hermione and Harry arguing quietly amongst themselves.
What are they up to?
Your thoughts are interrupted by a relieved Mrs Weasley, who rushes up to the group of you and throws herself into Mr Weasley’s arms.
“Oh thank goodness you’re alright,” she mutters, squeezing him tight. A copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet falls from her grasp, slightly screwed from where she had been gripping it. You pick it up and flatten it out while Mrs Weasley pulls her children into a bear hug.
SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP the headline reads in large, bold letters. An image of the Dark Mark floats beside it, and a twinge of fear plucks the centre of your chest as the memory of last night flashes in front of your eyes. Shudders rattle your spine.
“This isn’t good…” you murmur.
“Well, obviously,” Harry grumbles from behind you, his tone dripping with sardonic venom, and you jump, slightly startled. He stands behind you, reading over your shoulder, and he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath fanning across the nape of your neck. A different type of chill shoots through you like electricity.
“Lets – er – go in and have breakfast…” Ron suggests, glancing uneasily at Hermione. Harry grits his jaw and shakes his head, snatching the Daily Prophet out of your grip. He marches inside with Ron on his heel, but Hermione lingers behind.
“What has gotten into him?” you snip, and Hermione gives you a strange look, as though she knows more than what she’s letting on.
“We’re all just a little bit tired and hungry,” she sighs, patting a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “But don’t worry about it for now. Come on, let’s have something to eat.”
Don’t worry about it for now, you mentally repeat as you follow her inside, that’s easier said than done.
***
Chapter three will be released soon.
#cedric diggory x reader#harry potter x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#harry potter imagine#cedric diggory imagine#cedric diggory fluff#cedric diggory#harry potter#draco malfoy#fluff#draco imagine#draco malfoy fluff#harry potter fluff#harry imagine#imagine#imagines#harry potter fanfiction#georgie writes#chaos theory
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Kamala Harris Lives In One Of The Most Segregated Neighborhoods in Los Angeles Frontpage Mag ^ | 07/18/2019 | Daniel Greenfield
Senator Kamala Harris, who lives with her white husband in one of the most segregated neighborhoods in Los Angeles, has come out with a call for busing children to distant schools to fight “segregation”.
That’s great for Kamala, who has no children. Her stepson, Cole, who works at the William Morris Agency, which is about as diverse as his dad and S-Mamala’s Brentwood hood, won’t be bussed to work at more diverse talent agencies, and Ella, won’t be bused from her studies at Parsons School of Design (4% black) to a more diverse design college. Like most politicians, Harris wants to penalize other people.
None of these provisions and solutions to problems that don’t exist will actually apply to her and hers.
If segregation is the mere absence of diversity and requires government intervention, as she insists it does, what is Senator Kamala Harris doing to desegregate her Brentwood neighborhood?
Kamala’s $4.8 million Brentwood home is located in a neighborhood that is 84% white and 1.2% black in Los Angeles, a city that is nearly 10% black.
Senator Harris has come out for busing children to schools that aren’t sufficiently diverse. What about busing some folks from South Central to Brentwood to live across the street from her home?
“There was a little girl in California who was part of the second class to integrate her public schools, and she was bused to school every day. And that little girl was me,” Senator Kamala Harris whined.
Because the only way a successful Democrat can run for office is by playing the victim.
The truth is that little girl, the privileged daughter of wealthy foreign grad students, wasn’t bused.
She was flown around the world.
That’s not a “right-wing conspiracy theory”, as the media now describes any account fact-checking Kamala Harris’ imaginary past, it’s right there in the words of her own mother who couldn’t stop bragging about the wealth and power that was Kamala’s birthright by way of family and connections.
“When Kamala was in first grade one of her teachers said to me, ‘You know, your child has a great imagination. Every time we talk about someplace in the world she says, ‘Oh, I’ve been there.’ So I told her, ‘Well, she has been there!’”
“India, England, the Caribbean, Africa—she had been there," Kamala's mother told Modern Luxury magazine.
These days, Kamala actually has a great imagination. She has to work hard to imagine being oppressed.
That’s the actual little girl being displayed on those t-shirts that Kamala Harris For the People (the official and officially laughable name of a campaign funded by California millionaires) is selling for $30 bucks.
"Two decades after Brown v. Board, I was only the second class to integrate at Berkeley public schools. Without that decision, I likely would not have become a lawyer and eventually be elected a Senator from California,” Senator Kamala Harris claimed.
Kamala’s insistence that without busing she wouldn’t have become a lawyer or a senator takes place in an exciting fantasy world in which her wealthy, famous and powerful parents never existed. In the real world, her Brahmin mother, an internationally famous cancer researcher, sending her "Montreal’s tony Westmount" high school probably had a lot more to do with her becoming a lawyer.
Busing certainly didn’t put Kamala Harris on a path to the Senate and the White House. Not unless there were buses running directly to Willie Brown’s house and stopping in a shadowy spot at the back door.
It wasn’t civil rights, but an alleged extramarital affair with a dirty San Francisco city boss that made her.
Forget the trauma of busing. To get to where she was, Kamala, at 29, hooked up with Willie, at 60, and ended up in a Brentwood home with no children, but a Senate seat and a shot at the White House.
“And that little girl was me.”
It’s understandable politically and personally why Kamala would want to invent a past in which she hadn’t used her privilege and connections as a down payment on ruining her life and selling her soul.
Kamala’s story, in which busing took her out of the grim inner cities of Berkeley, where she had to watch three beatnik poets recite bad verse before she got to her bus stop, and opened the world to her, so that one day that little girl in the old creased photo could aspire to be president, is much nobler.
It’s a much more satisfying story than sleeping with a married politician and getting a BMW and a seat on a commission. There are no t-shirts at Kamala’s campaign store showing her old self driving in Willie’s BMW to the job that Willie got her, attending California Medical Assistance Commission meetings twice a month, for over $120,000 in current dollars, while still managing to miss 20% of them.
That not so little girl was her too.
If Kamala had at least allegedly slept with Willie because she was that “little girl” from the ghetto, clawing her way up the ladder, that would have been understandable. But the story is much worse. Kamala didn’t need Willie Brown to get a good job. She needed him to get jobs she didn’t deserve.
Like the one she has now and the one she wants now.
That’s the truly damning thing.
Senator Harris wasn’t a poor little girl from the ghetto. She mingled with the Nob Hill set. Her life was filled with privilege and wealth. It wasn’t desperation. It wasn’t need. It was greed.
Senator Kamala Harris has to reinvent her past because she needs to run as a victim. And because it shifts the social context behind the entire Willie Brown story to make her seem more defensible.
What can you expect from an oppressed little girl from the Berkeley ghetto trying to survive?
It’s not just Kamala rewriting her past. The media is working just as hard to reinvent a woman that the local press had covered thoroughly, while denying all the stories it had written about her in the past.
There’s always been speculation about Obama’s rise in Chicago politicians, but there’s never been much ambiguity about Kamala’s rise in San Francisco politics. We know how it happened and why.
But, now that’s a “right-wing conspiracy theory” even if it appeared in all the big California papers.
Before the media reinvented Kamala Harris as living on a Berkeley plantation with white and colored marijuana dispensaries, the Los Angeles Times had described her as a, “privileged child of foreign grad students”. These days, repeating that will see you accused of spreading right-wing conspiracy theories.
Reality, history and the media’s own stories are all notoriously right-wing conspiracy theories.
But meanwhile “that little girl” lives in one of the most segregated neighborhoods in Los Angeles, without ever saying anything about it, with her entertainment lawyer husband, in a $4.8 million home with a “spa-like” master bedroom, and a kidney-shaped pool. The median income is $112,000.
Kamala has an estimated net worth of $391,000.
Once upon a time, she got a BMW from Willie Brown. These days, it’s unknown what she drives. But, like most wealthy people in Los Angeles, Senator Kamala Harris would never actually take the bus.
Busing is for other people.
TOPICS: Culture/Society; News/Current Events; Politics/Elections; US: California
KEYWORDS: 2020 dem primary; blue zones; busing; california; clown car; delaware; india; jamaica; joe biden; Joe clown car biden; kamala harris; losangeles; segregation
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OPINION: Well, we all know these days that the Democrats are liars, thieves, obstructionist, crooks, evil, devious, un-ethical, etc. etc. and they can never be trusted with anything that they put their hands on. They are deceptive in their actions and are only looking our for themselves.
In fact, they are boarder-line anti-americans, that will say or do anything for self only. They have shown no love for this country ‘ever’!
It has always been about them not ‘us’ Americans.
No other Political Party in our Country have sent out ‘on the record’ threats of violence toward those that are ‘conservative’ and anyone that was using ‘freedom of speech’.
They will attack you, harm you, almost but kill you in public and they will dare the ‘Main-Stream Media’ to report their rootless action. You can’t prosecute them because they have Judges in places to rule in their ‘favor’ no matter how hannist the ‘crime’ is.
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Primrose Path (Harry Wells x Reader, Chapter 15)
Rating: Explicit
Summary: When you, a lovely florist, move to Central City to open your flower shop, you had no idea you’d fall for such a complicated and dangerous man who deals in a less-than-legal business. Harrison Wells - a major player and powerhouse within the underground mafia world of the region - sweeps you off your feet as you quickly become his greatest weakness.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of War, Coarse Language, Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths
Tag List: @aryaarathornson @cursedfaechild @jadedragon1903 @disneyoncerlover815 @child-of-winter-1215 @thecaptainsgingersnap @miss--mercy @fireboltrose7559 @xccentriktigress @12monkees @harryisjustsocute @obsessedadryana @ill-breach-you-there-right-now
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(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12) (Chapter 13) (Chapter 14)
A/N: Sorry we’re 2 days late! Normally @letyourimaginationrun would post this week, but she’s been so busy and working so incredibly hard that she hasn’t had a moment to spare to post. Life is stressful, hope you understand ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Harry sits at his desk, working intently on some legal S.T.A.R. Labs business. He’s already had two people come and grovel to him over the fact that this newest piece of tech isn’t ready for manufacture yet and that the company was going to have to find the extra money for it somewhere. He’d only dropped you off at the shop just over two hours ago, but it seems that since then, everything has gone to shit.
Just as he thinks he’s beginning to solve the problem with the device’s schematics, there’s a knock on his office door and Matthew steps into the room.
“Yes?” Harry asks curtly, huffing that he’s being interrupted at such a crucial stage.
“Doctor Wells, there’s a detective here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Send him in,” Harry orders, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is the last thing he needs. Matthew withdraws from the office and Harry hears him tell the detective to enter in his place.
A blond man steps into the room as Harry gets out of his chair, rounding the desk to shake the other man’s hand. But the resolute expression that he sees warns him that he needs to be very careful with what he says from here on out. This is a man on a mission.
“Detective Thawne, isn’t it? You’re West’s partner. What can I do for you?” he asks, trying to start this off civil.
Thawne stands in front of him as Harry leans back against the edge of his desk. “You might as well cut the niceties, Wells, I know you’re going to be as difficult as you can be,” he says, his smile telling Harry that he believes he has the upper hand here.
“And why’s that exactly?” Harry counters, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ve received a tip-off that something isn’t quite right with your accounts. I’m going to need to see your books,” Thawne tells him in a commanding tone, putting his hands on his hips to reveal his badge and gun.
Harry gives a wry smile and a small huff of laughter, glancing at the revealed items then raises an eyebrow. “If you think you scare me, Detective, you’re mistaken. I’ve dealt with people far more intimidating than you.” Harry follows this up with a look, heading back to his chair behind his desk and taking a seat. Without looking back up at the younger man, he says, “Come back with a warrant, and I’ll get you my books.”
“Got something to hide?” the detective pushes, taking a step closer to the desk and getting Harry to look at him again.
“I just don’t like people I don’t trust going through my things.”
“Well, it seems that someone you do trust is ballsing it up for you anyway. How else would I have gotten a tip?” He places his hands firmly on the desk’s surface and looks menacingly at Harry. “And I tell you now - if I find anything crooked in them when I get that warrant? Next time, I’ll be turning up on your doorstep to arrest you.”
Harry leans forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and tenting his fingers in front of him. “Is that a threat, Detective?”
“Everyone knows that you’re up to your neck in illegal activity. We just need someone who cares about justice enough to prove it.”
“And that’s you, is it?”
“Yes,” he replies immediately. “I’m working with this tip now, but I’ve got plenty more angles I can work it from. Your girlfriend seems to have a particularly soft spot for the metas. Maybe if I charged her with aiding and abetting fugitives of the law, we can see how quickly you’d cave then. Either that or she’s bound to know something, maybe enough to put you away for good.”
The mention of you makes all the civility fly out of Harry’s demeanour. He stands, anger almost visibly radiating from him. “She would have the best lawyer in this city at the snap of my fingers. You leave her alone,” he growls back.
“Way to show that you’re not corrupting her with all this, Wells.”
Harry pushes off from the desk, and in a few long strides, gets right in the detective’s face.
“If you even think about coming after me or my girlfriend without a warrant again, not having a job will be the least of your problems. Trust me.”
Thawne takes a step away, a small triumphant smile on his lips, knowing that he’s managed to find Harry’s pressure point.
“I’ll let that one slide, but sit tight, Wells. I’ll be back, and this palace of yours is going to come tumbling down, brick by brick.”
Harry watches as Detective Thawne leaves the room, throwing his fist down on the desktop after the door has closed.
But he doesn’t have time to linger on this threat right now. He has to check that the books aren’t going to reveal anything incriminating. This will certainly be a test of his new bookkeeper’s ability. Harry has maybe twenty-four hours before Thawne comes back with his warrant.
He calls Matthew back in and orders him to find James and have all the accounts brought up to his office. The possibility of a mole tipping off the police in the first place would also have to be dealt with.
After these actions have been set in motion, Harry takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. He knows what he needs right now, and he just hopes that you’ll be able to make some time for him.
Taking his phone from his pocket, he finds your contact and dials your number, waiting a few rings for you to pick up.
“Hey, Harry, everything okay?” He can hear the concern in your voice and smiles at your sweetness despite himself.
“Hey, Flower. I’m having a nightmare of a day and I wondered if you could spare half an hour to have lunch with me?”
You pause for a second, likely looking at the clock before answering. “Of course, baby, give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”
“You’re amazing,” he replies, feeling himself relax a little while you let out a small chuckle.
“I try,” you reply. “Hang in there.”
***
You end the call with Harry, looking at a couple of customers who were browsing the flowers. While you wait to be able to head to your lunch break, you make a little bundle out of the daisies you have near the counter. It sounds as though Harry could do with something to brighten his day besides having you pop in to see him.
You serve both the customers, doing up a quick bouquet for one and take an order down for the other. After making sure to grab your bag, you put the little sign in the window to say you were going to lunch, and head over on the road to the S.T.A.R. Labs building.
The people inside give you their polite greetings as you make your way to the elevator to head to Harry’s office. As soon as the doors open, you’re striding over to Harry’s door, lightly rapping your knuckles on it before opening it up.
“Harry?”
“(Y/N),” he replies, head snapping up at the sound of your voice. “Come on in.”
You grin back, but before closing the door, you take one of the daisies from the bundle and slide it into the lock as a message to everyone that Harry has you over. You want him to be able to tell you whatever is going on with him without interruption.
As you close the door, Harry, just in his shirtsleeves, gets up and meets you halfway across the room to take you in his arms, giving you a tight hug.
“That bad, huh?” you say, hugging him back and gently smoothing your hands up and down his back. He buries his face into your neck, and you reach one hand up to pull him closer to you, combing your fingers through his hair.
After a minute of standing in each other’s embrace, Harry pulls back and looks at you, studying your face. Your hands go to his cheeks as you let out a small sigh.
“Who hurt my man, hmm? Let me at ‘em,” you joke as Harry lets out a little hum of laughter.
“It’s err, it’s nothing for you to worry about, Flower, it’ll all be alright. As long as I have you by my side,” he replies, bringing his hands up to hold your own, a reassuring smile on his face. You study him for another second before moving around him to place the daisies in the vase you’d given him. You turn back around when they’re in place and you can see from his expression that he’s so grateful for the gesture.
He leads you over to the couches on the other side of the room where two paper bags emblazoned with ‘Big Belly Burger’ already sit waiting for you. Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat and pull one of the bags towards you, taking out the cartons of fries and pass one to Harry.
“I didn’t have you pegged as a fan of fast food, Mister Fine-Taste?” you tease, taking a fry and eating it as he sits down next to you.
“Sometimes I like a… change of pace,” he tells you with a smile, passing you a milkshake after poking the straw in it. You thank him and take a sip before bringing up the previous topic again.
“You know I’m not going to let it go that easily, right? You asked me over here to talk, I can tell, but now you’re trying to shut me out… Talk to me, Harry, whatever it is, I can take it.”
You put your hand over his on the table and look into his eyes, intently trying to get him to open up. He sighs and runs his free hand over his face before looking back at you.
“A detective came to see me… Thawne? He works with West. You might have come across him-“
“-we’ve had a couple of run-ins,” you mutter and Harry nods.
“Well, if you have any more, you need to call me immediately, okay, Flower?” Harry puts his hand over yours and looks intently into your eyes. “Thawne has a lead on me… but if that doesn’t work out, he’s threatened to come after you in order to bring me down. And I’m not going to let that happen.”
“But we’re together. Surely there has to be some sort of rule to stop him from doing that? You know I’d never willingly testify against you, right?”
“Of course I do… But no, sweetheart, that unfortunately only applies to spouses and you’re not my wife yet…”
“Yet? Someone’s keen,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood and Harry chuckles, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. This is too serious for joking around.
“I mean it, though, (Y/N). If Thawne starts trying to tempt you into selling me out or heaven forbid, he arrests you like he’s threatened, you call me, or this number right here.”
He takes a calling card out of his pocket, like the one he’d given you all those months ago and passes it to you. This one is cream with a decorative border around the edge and the words ‘Cecile Horton, Attorney at Law’ printed in the centre, accompanied by a phone number.
“Cecile Horton is the best lawyer I know, and if you need her, she’ll be there. I just want to keep you as protected as I can.”
You nod, squeezing his hand to reassure him that you understand. “I know you’re doing everything you can to keep me safe and I love you even more for it.”
You lean in and softly press your lips to his, and he lets out a small sigh of relief when you part.
“Come on, we need to eat before this goes cold,” you say, nudging his shoulder, “and there is nothing worse than cold fries.”
Harry gives an agreeing hum and pulls out the rest of the food to split between you. You eat your lunch, talking about making plans for the weekend and generally trying to lighten the mood after the threats of this morning.
And it seems as though your flower has been enough to keep everyone from opening the door and intrude on your private time. You’ve found one of the best parts of dating the CEO of a company/mob boss was that each one of the men who worked for him seemed to be afraid to interrupt him in his office when he was alone with you. When you’ve finished your food, Harry pulls you onto his lap to get you to straddle him, his hands going to your hips as he holds you close.
"Daddy wants some love."
"Does he indeed?" you ask, running your hands over his shoulders. You place a few kisses on his jaw and he lets out a content little sound. At this, you continue showering him with kisses, cupping his cheeks and nuzzling his nose. “It’s all going to be okay, Harry, I know it will.”
But before he can reply, there's a knock at the door to his office and a familiar face comes into the room. You blush a little at the intrusion and turn away because of the position you're currently in. Harry lets out a low growl and instantly appears pissed because it is the new bookkeeper that has interrupted your precious alone time.
“I’ve brought the files, Sir,” he says, taking a few hesitant steps forward with the documents in his hands.
"James, get out,” Harry says curtly.
“But, Sir, I-”
“-James, you’re new here, so I'm going to say this once and only once. Do not interrupt my time with my Flower." You forget that he's even capable of that deadly serious tone because you almost never hear it.
"I-I'm sorry, Sir," James cowers, “but you-”
“-Leave them here and get out,” Harry orders. The bookkeeper expeditiously removes himself from the room. You turn back to Harry and giggle embarrassedly into his shoulder.
"You're a very scary man, Harrison Wells."
"Hell yeah, I am. Now, where were we?" He pulls you back by hooking a finger underneath your chin, bringing you into a heated kiss and running his hands over your sides.
"I should leave you to get on with some work..." you say gently against his lips as you play with the hair at his nape. “It looks like you’re going to be busy with the books.”
“Mm, but I don't want you to go," he says, going in for another kiss only for Cisco and Barry, followed by Frost, to barge in with smug smiles. Only three people were allowed to interrupt you and Harry without suffering his wrath. You quickly climb out of Harry's lap and you both turn to the others.
"We have intel!" Barry announces.
"What have you got?" Harry asks.
"Okay, first- ew. Like please, we're at work, man," Cisco says gesturing a hand to both of you.
“I’m in my office, man,” Harry counters.
"Besides the point, bud," Barry says to Cisco before turning back to Harry. "We located Snart’s next heist. Oliver and his team are going to accompany us there to help." You can feel Harry study you from his seat because you've never been present for any of this particular business before. You’re well aware he wants to keep you safe, and as far as all this is concerned, it’s probably best if you know as little as possible about the specifics. Especially when Thawne is digging around in all this.
"What's this guy going after?" you ask, crossing your arms in front of you. You catch a small smile grace his handsome face.
"It's Leonard Snart, so definitely something cold related. I think it has to do with some sort of new gadget from Palmer Tech?" Barry says unsure, looking to Cisco for confirmation.
"Dude thinks he’s some kind of ice queen or something," Cisco says, giving Barry a side-eye.
“When really, that description belongs to me,” Frost remarks while making her fingertips blue.
"What are we going to do to stop him?" you inquire, finally learning a bit more about this side of Harry's life. Why not learn a little bit more about the business? Besides, Harry wasn't asking you to leave…
"We," Harry says, getting up from the couch and heading out of the office with you four in tow, "are going to come up with something crafty enough to catch him off guard. Can't have an egomaniac running around destroying cities. Mainly my city." Harry turns to you when you reach the elevator, blocking your path.
“Listen, I appreciate you trying to get involved, Flower, but I need you to go and finish up your day and then go home, it’s too dangerous,” he says, taking your hand.
"But I want to help. Even though it’s dangerous, it’s all for a good cause."
"I know, but I want, need, you to be safe, okay? Promise me you'll go home and wait for me there?"
You sigh in defeat. "Yeah, okay."
"If you really want to help... I suppose I could have our account books sent home to you to have a look over. That’s as far as I want you in with all of this, though. Just the paperwork. See if everything’s in order? Wouldn’t hurt to have another set of eyes check it through. Eyes I know I can trust… and that are so beautiful." A big smile works its way onto your face. He really couldn’t bear to see you unhappy. You nod quickly before kissing him.
"Just come back safe."
“Always. I’ll send a car to the shop at the end of the day to take you home,” he assures and you agree with his decision.
Harry and his trusted team head out just as you head back to Primrose Path to finish out the workday. Once you’re home later that evening, the account books get dropped off and within an hour or two of looking them over, you manage to track several errors and fix them promptly. Seeing everything spread out, it seems to you like the new bookkeeper wants Harry to get caught… Either that or he seriously wasn’t right for this job.
Could there be a spy in our midst?
Well, Harry's going to need to do something about that.
You peer up at the clock, noticing it's only half-past eight. You hold on to his dog tags which hang around your neck and hope that he's taking care of himself. You have no idea when to expect him home.
In the meantime, you decide to take a shower and start getting ready for bed, wearing one of Harry's shirts that he's basically had to surrender completely to you to use as pyjamas. You crawl into bed and start to read a book in order to take your mind off things, looking towards the door every so often.
It isn’t until you’re half-asleep hours later, lying against the plush pillows with your book next to you, that you register the sound of the bedroom door opening in the back of your mind. You half-hear Harry walk in, stumbling a bit and change out of his suit and into a pair of pyjama pants. Once he gets into bed, he takes you in his arms, causing you to stir fully.
"Harry...?"
"I'm here, baby," he whispers gently, kissing your forehead.
"Did you sort it out?" you ask sleepily.
"Yeah, Snart won't be a problem for a while," he replies, stroking your hair as you snuggle into his chest.
"That's good." You press a kiss over his heart. "Harry..." You pause to yawn. "I need to... tell you about the..."
"Shh, you can tell me about whatever it is tomorrow. Right now, we both need sleep. It’s been a long day,” he whispers to you, then kisses your lips. You nod and fall asleep, the warmth of your man surrounding you and filling your senses giving you a feeling of security.
#reader insert#harrison wells x reader#harrison wells imagine#harrison wells fanfiction#harry wells x reader#harry wells imagine#earth-2 Harrison Wells X reader#earth-2 Harrison Wells imagine#the flash imagine#the flash fanfiction#central-city-meta-pocalypse#letyourimaginationrun#primrose path#harry wells au
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