. cinnamon heart

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DECEMBER 1, 2013 It was far from morning, time barely peaking past midnight, not yet kissing 1 am. There was no excuse for her behavior, her texting sloppy, her words even looser. What fell from her mouth was no less than a girly cackle, far past the feminine giggle that she never had in the first place. Though she was not the worst. Maggie lay in their bed, all limbs and very little clothing, her hair mused at the crown and her breaths heavy in her chest. Whether it was from laughing or her disorientation, Annie stopped trying to guess. "Damn it! My thumbs are too big for this right now." The dark haired teen threw the glowing piece of technology unceremoniously to the floor, anger flaring unnecessarily. Mind, that was always how she was, quick to temper. It would do no good to identify where her brattiness came from, for that was obvious. Reality TV was just as toxic for those in it as those watching it. Music, more or less just the bass, pounded away down the hall. The specifics of her birthday party were lost on her now. The location, exact number of guests and where her parents might have run off to with the camera crew that documented their every move didn't seem to matter. It also didn't cross the youngest Scott's mind that the excessive drinking she and the rest of her underaged friends were indulging in had much consequence. Her hand came out, looking almost like a claw with her nails also done to excess, slapping the leg of her blonde best friend, encouraging her to move over. Maggie's gaze met hers with a scowl and a pout, huffing as she turned over on her bony left hip. "Where's that brother of mine? I want to be taken to my bed." Annie's elbow dug into the spaces between Maggie's ribs. "Sorry princess, he's not coming. Looks like you'll have to walk there." Faced with the idea that he wasn't coming, the other girl heaved herself out of bed, taking most of the linens with her as she flounced through the door of their adjoined suites. Before she had even locked the latch, Annie Scott had a renewed interest in her cell, her sobriety only slightly shining through the thick haze of intoxication. SOS, MAGGIE WANTS YOU TO CARRY HER TO BED. A grin seemed to touch on her over drawn lips, fleeting and almost evil in the right lighting. She padded to the mirror, flipping dark hair over her shoulder as she took off the top she had been wearing and simply left the skirt and bra to hide the rest. Preening in front of he reflection, the knock almost scared her, as she had been so absorbed in herself that she had barely remembered the sneaky thing that she had done. As her slim fingers turned the knob to answer it, ensuring through the hole in the door that it was Nate, she opened it coyly, quirking a brow and resting one hand on her hip. "Hey, stranger." TAGGED: nate peterson MUSIC: my prerogative. NOTES: ihu.

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For the first time in possibly ever, Nate Woolfe felt old. He'd discarded his suit jacket for fear of someone spilling spiked punch down it, though the crisp white shirt that had once been protected now lay painfully vulnerable to that very plausible fate. Though he was by no means the only individual in the room erring on the side of intoxication, he was certainly the only legal one doing so, what with all the other drunken fools being well under the age of twenty-one. He probably should have expected that from a nineteen year old's birthday party, after all. In fact, it was the main reason he was there - his younger sister Maggie, herself nineteen, had been getting herself into so much trouble lately that his mother had insisted on his chaperoning this event, as fraught with risk of drama as it was. In truth, she'd have been better off sending in a body guard, or a life coach, or just about anyone other than Nate. As soon as the thump of indecipherable pop music had reached his ears, he'd reached for a glass of something strong.  Several glasses in, he was starting to feel its effects. Slumped miserably in the hotel lobby, he'd been enduring some girls' drunken rambling for the past twenty minutes, initially enjoying her ranting about his famous soon-to-be fiancee. But a half-hearted glance at his watch sent a jolt of panic through his body: it was nearly midnight, and that meant that he hadn't seen Maggie for almost two hours. "Shit." With an inevitable lecture on responsibility echoing in his ears, he heaved himself to his feet, completely disregarding the chatty teenager as he so did. Though he hadn't noticed himself doing it, he'd clearly put away some serious levels of scotch, since the room span ever so slightly under his feet. He got his phone out and prayed he could focus for long enough to call her... only to find an 'SOS' text. "Shit," he repeated, though relief poured through him as he finished reading the text with a grin. "Fucking lightweight."   With some help from a kindly clerk, Nate found his way to the suite this whole evening had started in. In some odd way he was glad Maggie had a motley crew of irresponsible women to hang out with - at least they tended to prematurely pass out drunk together, rather than in the back of some guy's car. When Annie answered the door with a sultry smile and sans shirt, he furrowed his brow in confusion. "Weren't you wearing a shirt earlier?" Brushing past her, he glanced around the otherwise empty room, his drunken confusion deepening. "... Don't tell me she's puking in the bathroom. I didn't sign up for that." MUSIC: beethoven. lexa judges me. NOTES: i stole your code. fight me.

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"What, you're not here to wish me a happy birthday?" Her voice holds a sweet jest to it, though under the chorus of niceties she is almost serious. She beholds him with a locked eye, her gaze never wandering as he pushes past her into the room, almost enraged that this was the only reaction he could muster to her half naked appearance. Before she could fully face him, Annie rolled her eyes, but then her lashes turned back to sweetly fluttering as the brunette looked him full in the face. She was quite certain that Maggie would have something to say about this, if she had been conscious, but Nate's little sister and her apparent best friend was drunkenly snoring in the room next door, locked away like some form of bad Disney princess. Their drinking had started together at an age that was far before their interest in boys, and subsequently, Annie's interest in Nate. It was the one little detail she had been capable of hiding from her best friend. "Nah, fortunately for you, she got up and moved herself right after I sent that text. I should have told you not to bother, oops!" Her laugh is subtle, and her sobriety seemed to be seeping back with each passing second. She was in fact, pretending to be a lot more drunk than she actually was, sitting down on her bed and dragging the sheets to her chest in an almost demure manner. As if on cue, a blush started forming on her cheeks. Who ever said reality tv stars weren't real actors had clearly never been manipulated by Annie Scott. "You caught me in a state of undress, but I will cease taking my clothes off now that you're here." The starlet dropped the sheet and leaned back on her hands, switching from innocent little girl like easily flipping a coin. Her teeth found her lower lip, motioning to the mini fridge from her spot on the bed. "Would you bring me the rest of my birthday cake? I need something to sober me a little." As if it wasn't coming on it's own enough. Her brow quirks once more, crossing her legs so that he couldn't see up her skirt (though she hoped terribly that he would be trying). "It's your favorite flavour you know, I had the caterers bring you up some too." MUSIC: none. NOTES: this is short but I'm mobile so SHOOT ME.

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The question prompts yet more confusion from the cloudy-headed man. "Oh shit, yeah, it's your birthday!" He pulls her in for a clumsy hug, arms wrapping round her tiny frame with ease. He breaks away, the lingering smoky scent of scotch and Acqua di Parma cologne following his movements. "I shoulda bought you a shirt." Still looking for his wayward sibling, he bends over to check under the bed. You never did know with her. Finding it devoid of the long limbed blonde, he slumped down onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. The explanation of where Maggie was put whatever concerns he'd had completely out of mind, though somewhere deep down he knew he should probably check on her... that wasn't gonna happen any time soon, though. The mattress was reassuringly bouncy under his weight, the Egyptian cotton of the sheets achingly soft. He was annoyed that he hadn't booked himself a room too.    The sheets adjust under him, and he glances up to find them draped across her slight frame. "You look like you're shooting for GQ." He pauses, mulling over how that thought came to be. "Fuck, yeah, Seven's doing that today. I should text her to see how it went..." he mutters, though by the time the suggestion has left his lips he's over it, or maybe even forgotten it entirely. It was getting hard to keep track. A slow smirk creeps across his face at her remark, and he looks up at her again, propping himself up on one arm. "You sound like you're in Downton Abbey. Maybe a Downton Abbey porn parody... Downtown Abbey. The name needs work, but hey, there's an idea with legs. By all means, undress away."  Instinctively, his eyes follow her as she stretches back. It's not until she asks him to fetch her cake that he realizes he's staring, and the awkwardness forces him from his inertia, pulling him to his feet and across the room. As he reaches down to get the cake, he takes a quick glance at the mini bar contents. Definitely depleted. Rolling his eyes, he pulls out a box containing two slices, his smirk turning to a grin at her comment. A more sober Nate would question how she knew he would be coming, but drunk Nate wasn't so astute. Dropping himself down on the bed next to her, he started shovelling cake into his mouth before she could respond. "Holy shit that's good. How'd you know raspberry's my fave?" MUSIC: madvillain. NOTES: SO INAPPROPRIATE

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Again, the brunette starts to blush furiously. It creeps up her neck and to her cheeks as he encourages her to keep undressing. Annie makes no movement to do such, she knows where to draw the line between teasing and tacky. As he moves towards the fridge, mind obviously focused on food rather than on her, her eyes roll. Nate's always been good looking, but his intelligence has never been factored into the reasons for her attraction to him. The porn parody remark barely brings a grin to her face, but she chuckles fluidly anyway, forcing herself to enjoy the joke falling from his lips. "Oh Nate, you always were so clever!" The delivery is almost seamless, her hand brushing on his forearm before he entirely leaves the bed in favor of birthday cake. However, she is about to be enraged a second time, the mention of Seven making her teeth clench. She's always been the jealous type, possessive, easily annoyed. The temper tantrums associated with her childhood never really went away, age only turned her anger into manipulation rather than curbing it entirely. But the ripple of emotion in her face to show her discontentment did not last, and she grinned up at the older male in front of her, accepting her piece of cake by sitting up, making sure to cup her chest with the sides of her arms, giving them a fuller appearance. As he sat back, appreciating the raspberry, she took a forkful of her own (chocolate), and sucked almost inappropriately on the utensil, watching him with dark eyes as he bit into his own. "Maggie told me. It's her favorite too. I figured I would try to accommodate the Woolfe palette while picking my cake flavors." He's not responding as she'd like. Her slender figure inches closer, kneeling in front of him. Dark eyes drip with a needy want, a pout coming to her mouth as she sticks out her lower lip. "Natey, give me a bite of yours!" MUSIC: none. NOTES: this is short but u wanted it posted.

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Whole minutes have passed since he last had a drink, and the world is balancing out around him. Between the cake and the company, his senses are stabilizing. Not only can he taste creamy raspberry filling and moist vanilla sponge, he can smell the subtle spice of her perfume, the faint sharpness of hairspray. When he glances at her it's with fresh eyes, and he can see her properly now, can see that fuck, she doesn't look like one of his kid sister's friends, doesn't look like the little kid he used to attack with water guns whenever she dared join a Woolfe family holiday. For a moment he thinks of Maggie, and how grown up she looks now... it sends a sharp pain through his chest, worry for his little sister out in the big bad world, with the body of a woman deceiving the mind of a child. But somehow he doesn't have the same concern for Annie. Instead, he's looking at how full her lips are, at how very bare her chest is. He loses interest in the cake.  Still hazy, he has to force his gaze from her face to the box in his hands, though now he's finding the confection is sickly sweet. Ready to abandon it on her bedside table, it finds a new use as Annie kneels in front of him, chest pushed out and lips curved into a pout. He can feel his heartbeat accelerate. Remember who this is. Wishing Maggie hadn't left him to the wolves, he tried hard to look the girl dead in the eyes. Drunkenness forced his eyes to stray downwards, though he finally cleared his throat, passing the box her way. "Knock yourself out, birthday girl."   Clearing his throat again, he ran a hand through his hair. He sat up straighter than before. He suddenly didn't know what to do with himself, sat as he was on her bed with her so dangerously close. He couldn't stop staring, then catching himself, then staring again. He realized he'd have to try to find neutral ground. "Has this been a good one? A good birthday, I mean. Did you get everything you wanted?" Hearing himself talk to her like a kindly grandfather, he inwardly cringed. "I hope you aren't planning on airing any footage of Mags drunk, my mom will go apeshit. Actually apeshit, you'll get phone calls from our lawyers all hours of the day." MUSIC: debussy. NOTES: shorttttt.

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That look is one she knows too well. It is the same one that her father's friends give her when Yani Scott isn't looking. It is the wolfish (no pun intended), hungry gaze that comes from realizing that her body was no longer that of a little girl's but that of a woman's. In that instant, when is drunken eyes can barely tear themselves from the tops of her breasts, a grin curls on the lower part of her mouth, pushing her lip out until it is as full as it can possibly be. Annie tosses her dark hair from one side to the other, blonde ombre touching down on her Armenian skin. The golden tone of her skin nearly blends into the ends of her lighter strands, and she cannot help but look at Nate as if he is dinner of her own. He seems ready to get rid of his box, his movements hasty. But Annie has something else in mind, her own limbs taking more time to move across the bed. She readily accepts the box, but sits up on her knees right in front of him, dark eyes never leaving his as she does so. In the vague back of her mind, the film camera and her parents are somewhere, shooting filler material. It never occurred to the young woman that this position was precarious, that there were many people whom it would hurt if she and Nate were to be found, let alone filmed, edited, and exploited to look even worse. Yet, Annie was never worried about what it might do, desensitized to the cameras and how it stunted her emotional development. "No, Nate." A wicked grin forms, passing it back into his hands and ensuring to brush them with her own in passing. Though they didn't stop, not even there, skating down his stomach, pausing at his belt as her other hand pushes him down slightly, both legs coming to straddle one of his own. "Feed me." MUSIC: fashion killa - a$ap rocky. NOTES: IDC.

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If he'd hoped for a break, it looked like it wasn't coming any time soon. The young woman moved ever closer to him, her movements fluid and feline-like where he would have honestly assumed them to be a lot clumsier. It was obvious even through his intoxication that seduction was a language she was fluent in. Again he thought of Maggie, wondering if she could also mimic a woman much older than her nineteen years... he prayed it was a skill unique to Annie.  After all, the last time he had been so thoroughly suckered in had been with Seven, and she'd had two husbands to show for it. Running a hand over his face, he's about to reach for his phone to text his girlfriend when she takes it to another level, spectacularly breaking through the touch barrier as she pulls a tanned leg over to straddle him. He swallows hard. Though he knew deep down that this could look very, very bad, he somehow felt like this was out of his hands - what choice did he have but to comply? The hand that isn't clutching the cake box finds her hip, her skin warm under his fingertips.    Sitting up ever straighter, he tries to get matter-of-fact about this. Removing his hand from her hip, he prises the box open, shoving his fork in there and scooping up a mouthful of cake. He could fight this. He wasn't an animal, a slave to his impulses... Trying to go back to thinking of her as childlike even as his blood runs so hot, he holds the fork up as though feeding a toddler. "Come on then, open up."  MUSIC: iggyyyyy. NOTES: even shorter.

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America's Next Top Model, and the scandal that is provoked, was what made Annie Scott understand that she could get away with almost anything, so long as she was physically appealing. Damian's inability to keep his hands off her, especially when she dangled her nearly naked self right in front of him was pleasure enough, even without the sexual acts that had taken place between them. She had learned quickly that she could get whatever she wanted, so long as she made her lips a little fuller and her movements deliberate when she was around men. Though she had heard the argument time and time again, imploring her to be a lady, be classy, keep herself wanted rather than had, Annie had never listened to the heeds of her mother and her older sister. Instead, she did it her way. Even now, in his lap, he was trying so hard. Watching him squirm like an ant as she picked his legs off one by one gave Annie a satisfaction that bloomed deep in her belly. His words shook awkwardly in his throat at the same time her lust for him shot down her spine. She was delighted by every moment of awkwardness, by every last second of his internal struggle. As he spoke, the brunette opened her mouth slowly, tongue moist for her bite of cake. As the fork entered her mouth, she closed her lips around it slowly and sucked the sugar from it, indulging in the bite more than necessary. Her hand still rested gently on his belt buckle, moving to pass lower over the trousers of his suit in a place that her hand should not be. "Yummy." MUSIC: i'm at work taking the piss srry it's like the shortest ever. NOTES: HIIIIIII.....

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This interaction had come six months later than he would have preferred, and the fact that he was so teetering on the edge of serious commitment made it all the more tempting to have one last dalliance with no strings attached. Worse, a dark little corner of his ego was turned on by the whole situation, this younger woman brimming with seductive energy and turning it on him with absolute intention. Where his younger sister's blossoming was a source of great distress for Nate, Annie's was darkly appealing, her physical transformation mirrored in the sensual way she'd started to carry herself. Had he been single there wouldn't have been a shred of hesitation. Maggie's inevitable bad feeling about this was uninteresting to him (after all, no doubt she would be all over Luke in a heartbeat if she felt she stood a chance), and his own moral compass was skewed enough that her age was a pro rather than a con. But Seven would never forgive him.. would she? He ran a hand over his face again, drunkenness simmering down to a low sense of doom.  If only doom was all he felt. Inhaling a little sharply as she adjusted her position, he jolted away from her, discarding the cake to one side. He couldn't shake the mental image of the fork slipping from her lips, her lingering eye contact pushing his imagination into overdrive. Sighing heavily, he tipped his head back against the headboard for a moment, eyes shut as he tried to get a grip on the situation. With his fingers threading through hers, he looked her in the eye with a crooked smile, an edge of pleading in his voice. "Are you trying to land me in shit with everyone we know, Annie?" Groaning, he put his head against her bare shoulder, breathing in her heady perfume. "You're killing me here." MUSIC: miley. NOTES: idk why i'm listening to miley.

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As Nate lowered his cheek to her shoulder, her hand ran up through his hair, as to not encourage whatever soft feelings he might be having in regards to this situation. Her fingers wound themselves in the strands, tugging lightly and almost brusquely. Her hips leaned into his feather weight touch, ignoring any and all voices of her conscious that screamed for her to retract herself from his lap and slip into bed with Maggie. In all honesty, she had forgotten everyone else. His sister and their plethora of friends, Percy and Seven. She had forgotten that his girlfriend was cousins with her boyfriend, that this would certainly ruin anyone provided they found out. She forgot her parents and their twisted way of making money whilst documenting their entire lives. All Annie knew was the way she had him pinned beneath her, barely even blinking as he scampered away. He'd come back, that she knew. "But I'm the birthday girl, aren't I supposed to get whatever I want?" A slender finger moves from his hair to stroke his cheek, beard growing in rough and sharp. It thrilled her to think that she might have both hands placed on either side of his face, feeling that scruff as he gave into her. It was taking whatever she could, not to reach around and pry her bra off, but she knew these things took time, and that if he hadn't gone anywhere yet, he certainly wouldn't be. Her head tilted, teeth coming to graze his ear, her voice only a whisper. "I didn't even get to kiss Maggie at midnight." MUSIC: NONE. NOTES: it's 3 am im going 2 bed have this empire of shit.